The Heart of Dog

by Doranna Durgin

  That Sharlie had sensed the rising Flash all along.

  That all she needed now was Hanah's confidence.

  And Hanah clapped her hands in silence and cried, "Brave Girl!" and sent it to Sharlie with all the confidence she could muster, awkward with the newness of it.

  Sharlie's ears came up; her eyes sparkled. Instead of reaching out to Hanah, she pawed at a spot in the Flash—a fading, a thinness; a deep veil of scintillating fog with a faint landscape behind it. ::Here!::

  But as they stepped toward it together, Hanah's new-found stability turned to slam-and-tumble, scrambling her already uncertain orientation. She screamed silently into the confusion, barely snagging a glimpse of whirling energy—and then something snatched her up and tossed her through the air. Not once but twice, and again—

  Playing with her.

  Preparing to kill her.

  ::Nonononono!::

  Hanah fell again, lost her breath on impact with the imperfect ground, bounced and rolled and clawed her way to a stop. She looked up in time to see Sharlie in furious battle, her jaws latched tight to a limb Hanah couldn't see, back legs braced as Sharlie ripped and tore that ethereal flesh, spurclaws raking fiercely—and then the creature lashed out with a barely visible limb and swept Sharlie away.

  The tenuous connection between them snapped; Hanah's internal ear went silent, losing the sound of the Flash interface. She scrambled after Sharlie, screaming her name.

  But Sharlie clawed her way to her feet as Hanah reached her. Blood turned black in this light, splotching Sharlie's mottled coat; her whiskers seemed singed. Her foreleg dragged and her gaze drifted away from Hanah's as she staggered and recovered. There would be no voice between them, not now. Hanah pulled Sharlie against her, supporting her, searching for the creature that had attacked so suddenly and now coyly waited just out of detection in this roiling space, revealed only by an excited intensity of Flash lightning off to the side.

  Sharlie resisted Hanah's support. She lurched away, and then she looked over her shoulder.

  Hanah hesitated, her gaze darting from Sharlie to the lurking creature and back again—and with the greatest of effort, Sharlie lifted her drooping foreleg a quivering fraction, her spurclaw twitching to offer a submissive gesture. Beseeching.

  Too long Hanah had failed to believe in her companion. Too long she'd shut her out. And now Sharlie needed that belief even without voice between them...could only save them if she had it.

  Believe.

  Hanah ran to catch up, offering the hand signal of approval, mixing it up with the one for praise. It didn't matter. Sharlie barely kept her feet, but she still moved with purpose. She quartered only once, and then as the creature realized their intent and made a last furious sweep at them, Sharlie found the interface and took them home.

  ~~~

  "It's a big breach." Hanah waited outside the brace dog infirmary, her nose full of odors both strong and raw, an unsettling feeling of not-belonging pricking her from within. Roge stood beside her—a slight man with shoulders slightly bowed and a perpetual worry line over somber eyes. She told him, " The way it sits in that earth crack, even if you were hunting it, you wouldn't feel it."

  "We have been hunting it." Roge rubbed the back of his neck, gaze betraying concern as it wandered to the infirmary door. "We knew something had opened—and we believe it to have been the source of the recent attack in the city, not to mention a dozen smaller incidents we've managed to keep quiet. No mistake about it, being able to patrol that area directly will save Sprenten untold loss." He gestured at Hanah. "You haven't been seen to. Let me take you to a medic."

  Hanah had tumbled out of the Flash with a dozen deep cuts and a deep, rashy burn on her cheeks and forearms. She'd used the strap of her water skin to support Sharlie on the long, stumbling hike back to the city where the tower watch had seen them coming and sent out help and a padded cart...and now she was here, waiting. The cuts stung; the burns hummed like leftover Flash on her skin. Waiting. "I have to see Sharlie first. I have to know what will happen to her."

  Roge briefly pressed his lips together, thinning them. "You know she was badly hurt."

  "I was there," Hanah reminded him, more dryly than was respectful.

  He gave a short nod, moving against the wall so a brace dog medic could pass more easily, her arms full of salve pots. "For the most part, she'll heal. But—"

  "Her leg." Hanah thought of how lifeless the leg had been, how Sharlie could barely twitch it. How she didn't seem to feel it when the limp paw dragged on the ground, the top of the foot worn through to blood by the time they'd reached Sprenten.

  Roge took a deep, bracing inhalation. "She might get some control back, especially if we splint it. But she'll never handle rugged terrain again. It's a damn shame."

  His words seemed to imply more than the obvious, and Hanah gave him a quizzical look.

  His expression was more obviously patient than she expected. "She's got tremendous potential." And he said it in a way that suddenly made her understand that the masters had never questioned Sharlie at all, but that they'd never been certain Hanah could clear her mind of obstacles—of her past—well enough to hear Sharlie's voice. "We need her now more than ever."

  But Sharlie would never handle rugged terrain again.

  It must have shown on her face. Roge rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You need not worry about Sharlie, Hanah. Once she's learned to use her leg as she can, we'll add her to the city teams."

  Hanah's stomach clenched. "But—"

  But the city patrols were token positions—a waste of a dog like Sharlie. A city position would merely taunt her with what she could now never do, after she'd just proven she was of the best of them.

  "Things are changing, Hanah," Roge said gently. "The attack in the city marks a turning point, and we have every reason to believe the Flash activity will continue to rise. No matter the stigma, we're going to need actively capable—actively outstanding—brace teams in Sprenton. We'll find Sharlie a partner who's satisfied with city work." And as the shock of it rippled through Hanah, Roge added, "It would help if you talked to her. She needs to know this change is an honor, not a punishment. And as you know...she's extremely sensitive to disapproval."

  Hanah winced, but drew herself up. "I'll explain."

  But she didn't know how she could possibly explain good-bye. If Sharlie was on a city team, even working in the kennels wouldn't keep them together.

  Roge rocked back on his heels. "As for you...we'll assign you a new puppy shortly. Given your previous experience, we expect you to be one of the youngest teams out on active duty."

  Hanah blinked. "But—I've been dismissed!"

  "And much has happened since then, has it not?" Roge raised one eyebrow in pointed question. "Do you think we left Sharlie with you those extra days by chance? We'd hoped the dismissal would shock you into paying attention to your present instead of your past. It didn't work exactly as we'd hoped...but it worked. With your now-proven skills and knowledge of the terrain, I expect you'll make a strong brace partner for your next dog."

  "But—!" Hanah said again, and this time she nearly sputtered it. "Why didn't you tell me it was me?"

  Roge smiled a quiet smile. "We did, Hanah. You simply weren't ready to hear."

  Well.

  No.

  He must have seen the understanding on her face. He nodded once, and turned back to the door.

  "But," Hanah said again, and he wasn't expecting that; he looked at her in surprise. "If I'm not dismissed, can't I stay with Sharlie?"

  For the first time he seemed at a loss for words. "We thought...the city stigma...your drive to be the best—"

  "That," Hanah said, and crossed her arms with much defiance, "would mean staying with Sharlie."

  And as Roge slowly smiled, Hanah heard a tired whisper deep in her mind.

  ::My HanahPup,:: it said. And then, ::Now... Just Hanah.::

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Return to Table of Cont
ents

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  ConneryBeagle's Story

  By Doranna & Connery

  Connery is the quintessential Beagle, a clown who is also possessed by moments of astonishing singlemindedness. He has a LiveJournal where he chronicles his puzzlements about the human world.

  During 2007, Connery ranked in the top ten Beagles nationally in obedience, rally, and agility. But when push comes to shove, he's my best friend, and I don't want to let my best friend down. I desperately need to know if what's happening now with his health is a result of—or if the treatment will conflict with—the life-threatening immune issues he's had all of his life.

  Recently, he's faced a mysterious condition that—when he tracks, or plays, or bikes, or runs agility—leaves him wheezing, choking, and stuck in spasmatic "snorking." Without a constant stream of painkillers, he has terrible headaches and spends his time in a miserable little Beagle ball.

  So I need to do something for my dog kid. And this story collection will, I hope, help me come through for him.

  ~~~

  Here's the thing about Connery. All his running and titling have been done In Spite Of.

  Connery was six months old when his allergies manifested, and conventional treatments couldn't control the atypical inflammation or the itching—or stop the crises. After his second major episode in doggy ICU, I headed the three hours to the nearest specialist.

  Connery's allergy test results were profound beyond the specialist's significant experience. We immediately started him on Atopica (an $$immuno-suppressant$$). A special serum was created in the hopes that injections would diminish his allergies. He also started with frequent mini-baths and twice weekly bedding changes, and then went through many raw food diets, grain-free uber-foods, and supplements.

  By the next spring, however, he was worse, and after several additional crises, I pulled the serum treatments. The vets were startled when he improved; that's not the way it's supposed to work. Typically atypical. At this point, my vet expressed some surprise that Connery was still alive at all. He tried hard to prepare me for the inevitable.

  All the while, Connery was running for me, rising to the challenge on his good days. And he did, once the serum was pulled, finish his breed championship with a string of high majors, very much aware that while he was in the ring, it was all about him.

  Along the way, unfortunately, he was also attacked by a Mastiff who broke loose at a hotel and charged some distance to reach us. Connery evaded huge snapping jaws by a millimeter—an image I will always see in my mind's eye, crystal clear. I snatched him up, and then I waited to go down, too. The dog's owner got control at the last minute and marched away without comment or apology.

  So now my little guy was fighting both allergies and fears. It took about a year and lots of work to calm the fears—and during this time we realized that for whatever reason, he was also subject to horrifying retrobulbar infections (a specific closed sinus space). Over time I became really good at diagnosing these before they turned volcanic—and over time it became obvious that whatever he's dealing with, it's subtle, and it's also tangled with some undefined autoimmune factor.

  He still stayed in the national breed rankings in agility. He still ran for me. He still did as he's always done, which is to interrupt my writing with a paw resting on my leg—a demand for training time. We worked it out around his difficult days.

  Or we did, until a loose, huge black wolf-hybrid mix came after us in the dark at a hotel. Did not even see it coming...

  (You may now picture me holding Connery over my head, screaming for help and frantically circling to keep the wolf-dog from getting a direct approach.)

  Luckily, we already had a good foundation for dealing with fears; Connery seemed to recover fairly well.

  And then a month later, a Giant Schnauzer broke away from its handler and charged over extensive open ground to take us both down. Connery had soft-tissue and shoulder injuries that took a year to heal and are still vulnerable; my wrist took four months. The AKC did nothing, in spite of my many phone calls to National HQ.

  And Connery was done.

  He got an ulcer. He got a sinus infection that defied diagnoses. He was so sick and so fearful that he couldn't withstand the sight of a strange man, the sound of rain falling in a gutter, the flutter of paper in the wind. None of these things had ever hurt him, but he had learned well that his world wasn't safe. He couldn't accept human reassurance any longer, and withdrew from me.

  I started looking for help. I learned about target dogs, which were outside my experience. Connery is a beta boy; he wasn't posturing to these attacking dogs, as so many people suggested—he never even saw them coming. But some dogs are indeed natural targets. With him, is it because of his allergies? Dogs can smell cancer; they can detect seizures and diabetic crashes. I have no doubt they can smell allergies. I'll never know, I guess.

  I found trainers with vague suggestions, all of which I was already doing. I found one nationally renowned trainer who told me I should just get another dog. And I finally found a key, through a kind reader whom I hope is seeing this: Leslie McDevitt's Control Unleashed games. After several months of that work, I also found a (then) local trainer who would help me desensitize Connery to situations that I couldn't confidently handle on my own.

  Connery wasn't the only one left with fears and trauma, you see.

  Eighteen months after that attack, Connery began to find his joy again. Two years after that final attack, he earned his MACH (the ultimate agility title). He was the 20th Beagle ever to do so, and he's now well on his way to MACH 2, a process much interrupted by my crazy-making need to move two years in a row.

  So, things aren't perfect. He came out of that last attack with easily-triggered stress behaviors, and I heavily manage and protect his environment in ways both subtle and obvious. A hundred dog owners will never know how I broke their dogs' challenging eye contact, and many of them don't notice, as they pass, that I've not only quietly put myself between our dogs, I've literally pushed eagerly lunging dogs away from us.

  Connery is somehow, when his health allows it, again a joyful dog, bursting with BAWH.

  ~~~~~~

  CH MACH Cedar Ridge DoubleOSeven CD RE XF EAC EJC CGC:

  Breed Champion

  Master Agility Champion (WHEEEE!)

  Companion Dog (novice obedience)

  Rally Excellent

  Excellent FAST (AKC agility game)

  Exellent Agility Certificate (NADAC agility)

  Excellent Jumpers Certificate (NADAC agility)

  AKC Canine Good Citizen

  and a tracking/versatility title within reach...

  ~~~~~~

  But there's still at least one health crisis a year. And as of this writing, he's spent the last five months struggling with upper airway inflammation and massive headaches. We've cleared up an infection, but left the symptoms. We've tried all the low-key and non-invasive remedies, and yet every day, he chokes, sneezes, and backwards-wheezes. Without medication that he can't tolerate for much longer, he has miserable headaches. He's worn out; every fun thing he does turns his head inside out.

  As important as treating this problem is knowing what it is. Because immuno-suppressants keep Connery alive...but they mean that his immune system is severely compromised. If this is a lurking infection, it's got to be treated before it becomes much more. If it's a growth, then...we need to plan a kind and gentle way to move forward before he starts back on Atopica in April.

  I've always worried that I wouldn't be able to meet his needs, and now...here we are. He needs testing; I'm at the long end of a long string of publisher delays: late payments and contract slow-downs that push the next income further and further out regardless of my work delivery schedule. So I'm offering The Heart of Dog collection, the proceeds of which will provide the procedure—and follow-up—to help us understand what's going on with his health.

  Besides, of course, what I already know is in there—his i
ncredibly honest, joyful, bursting-with-heart little personality. Just a dog, like any dog...except that he's mine, and after all he's been through, I can't quit on him now.

  ConneryBeagle: BAWH!

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Return to Table of Contents

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Contributor Web Sites and Bios

  Jeffrey A. Carver

  http://www.starrigger.net/

  Jeffrey A. Carver was a Nebula Award finalist for his novel Eternity's End. He also authored Battlestar Galactica, a novelization of the critically acclaimed television miniseries. His novels combine thought-provoking characters with engaging storytelling, and range from the adventures of the Star Rigger universe to the ongoing, character-driven hard SF of The Chaos Chronicles. A native of Huron, Ohio, Carver lives with his family in the Boston area. He has taught writing in a variety of settings, from educational television to conferences for young writers to MIT, as well as his ongoing Ultimate Science Fiction Workshop with Craig Shaw Gardner.

  "Dog Star" originally published in the astronomy science fiction anthology Diamonds in the Sky, ed. Mike Brotherton

  Julie Czerneda

  http://www.czerneda.com/

  Julie E. Czerneda is a best-selling, award-winning author/editor. Her latest novel was Rift in the Sky (DAW) and up next will be her first fantasy, A Turn of Light (DAW 2011). Julie is co-editing Tesseracts 15: A Case of Quite Curious Tales with Susan MacGregor.