by Wayne Smith
“Ouch!” Mom said when she saw them.
She knelt next to Thor and gripped the patch of skin around the tear duct in one hand and Kitty’s paw in the other. Gingerly lifting the claw out like a fishhook, she removed it without harm.
Thor was so relieved that he jumped up and gave Mom a big wet one right on the mouth, just the way she didn’t like them.
“Oh, yuk!” She wiped his saliva from her lips and sputtered like a cigar smoker trying to spit a piece of tobacco off the tip of his tongue. “Dumb dog!” she said, without real anger, and went back to the laundry.
Thor and Kitty picked up the game where they’d left off.
Thor looked away from Kitty, daring her to take advantage of his vulnerability, secretly watching in his peripheral vision for the last-minute squirm, the one that always came right before the pounce.
There it was!
He closed his eyes and ducked as Kitty flew overhead and skidded across his back. She tried to grab hold of his back, but her claws weren’t long enough to penetrate the thick fur, especially at the speed she was doing.
She sailed over him and onto the floor with a dull plop.
Now she was really furious. She jumped onto Thor’s head from behind and bit the skin behind his right ear, kicking his neck with her hind feet. Then, having asserted herself, she scampered down and got into position for another launch. That was cheating, of course, but Thor didn’t mind. Her little bites and scratches felt kind of good.
Suddenly something distracted Thor. A feeling. He tilted his head slightly and listened intently. Nothing. Mom was doing laundry — nothing else was happening that he could tell. Without knowing whey, he looked at the phone.
Something was coming. Something Bad. He remembered the feeling he’d had at Uncle Ted’s, and suddenly felt the need to check on the Pack. He stood up abruptly, just as the cat leaped. He didn’t even notice her attack until she crashed into his now-upright legs. The impact startled him a little, but he looked down and prodded the cat gently with his nose, gave her a lick, and went to the living room window.
The phone rang just as he hopped onto his lookout chair. He ignored the electronic chirping and peered out the window.
Whatever was coming was far away. Too far to see and too far to hear. Still, he watched the street for any sign of an approach. The thought of checking other windows never entered his mind. When the Bad Thing came, it would come by the road.
Mom answered the phone.
“Ted! How are you doing?”
Silence. Mom gasped.
“What? How far? When we were there? Oh my God!”
Silence again.
“So what do they think did it?”
Silence.
“What are they going to do?”
Silence.
“I understand. Of course. No, I wouldn’t want to, either. Of course.”
Silence.
“No, of course not, you know that. Do you need any help?”
Thor listened distractedly to Mom’s distressed tone of voice, but his attention remained focused on the street. He was listening for something that made no noise. Not yet.
“Are you sure? Okay, if that’s the way you want to do it. We’ll see you then. And Ted . . . I don’t want you to feel that you’re imposing on us, okay? Stay as long as you want, you’re welcome here. Okay? Okay. See you then. Bye.”
She put down the phone and sighed heavily. Her poor brother. What next?
At the window, Thor felt the Bad Thing pause in its advance.
It would not come today, but it was coming. Thor felt it.
Mom picked up the phone, poked it, and spoke briefly to Dad’s secretary. Thor sat and watched the street until she went back to her laundry.
* * * *
Thor resumed his watch at the living room window early that evening. He wished Dad would come home soon. He would feel much better with Dad home. Even more so than usual.
When Dad arrived he offered Thor only a perfunctory greeting, and went straight into the kitchen to talk to Mom. Thor followed and quietly lay on the kitchen floor. The tension in the air was almost palpable.
“I got your message,” Dad said. “What’s this about a body?”
“A woman,” Mom said. “A hiker. She was camping out on Skyline Trail last weekend, and she didn’t show up on Monday. A search party found her body just below the trail, just off the path that connects Ted’s property with the trail.” Mom paused and took a deep breath. “Apparently, she was there while we were visiting Ted.”
“Jesus!”
“Here’s the weird part,” Mom continued, “the coroner says she was killed by a wolf.”
“What?” There hadn’t been wolves within a hundred miles of Ted’s house for decades, maybe more.
“Ted says the place is crawling with hunters. The sheriff’s department and the forestry service have parties trying to find the wolf, and as Ted put it, ‘Every jerk with a rifle is out there, shooting at anything that moves.’ He says he’s not afraid of the Big Bad Wolf, but he doesn’t feel safe with the hunters. He wants to stay here for a while, until they kill it. I told him he could.”
“So when is he coming?”
“Saturday. He says he’s just going to toss some essentials in boxes and leave everything else there — most of his stuff is already in storage. He’s letting the sheriff’s department use his house as a base of operations.”
“He sure has a dark cloud following him, doesn’t he?”
Mom said nothing.
Thor was disappointed. Mom and Dad’s concerns were strictly for Uncle Ted; they didn’t appear to know the Bad Thing was coming.
He got up, walked back to the living room, and climbed into the lookout chair to watch the street and worry.
Chapter 7
Thor’s sense of foreboding steadily intensified over the next two days. He tried to hide his anxiety from the Pack, but Mom saw it, and so did the kids.
It made Mom nervous to see him spending the bulk of the day in his lookout chair, staring out the window. Whatever he was watching for, he wasn’t looking forward to its arrival. At night, he listened more carefully to the footsteps of neighbors and strangers one the street, and barked at faraway sounds more often.
When the kids were home, he shadowed them. He tried to do it surreptitiously, tried to act casual and make it look like pure coincidence that he happened to be hanging out wherever they happened to be playing. He didn’t want the Pack to see how worried he was.
Without realizing it, Mom began to mimic Thor’s behavior. She kept the kids a little closer to home, paid more attention to people in the neighborhood, and picked up a habit of glancing out the living room window for — who knew what?
As Saturday approached, Mom’s nerves got steadily worse. It didn’t help to see Thor getting more nervous, too. She made up her mind that the whole thing was ridiculous, that she was the one imagining things, and the dog was probably just picking up on her irrational fears, caused by her anxiety over Ted. She resolved to ignore her misgivings, but it was easier to make the resolution than to keep it.
By Saturday, Thor was unbearably jumpy. Mom held her breath and watched him closely as Ted’s car pulled up, and when Ted stepped out and Thor still scanned the street, she felt a great weight lift off her. Uncle Ted was not what Thor was watching for after all.
* * * *
Thor watched Uncle Ted’s arrival with interest and confusion. Uncle Ted wasn’t the Bad Thing he was waiting for; and yet, when Uncle Ted arrived, the Bad Thing’s journey was also complete. The Bad Thing was no longer en route to the Pack, and yet it wasn’t here. It was here and not here at the same time.
??????
Could Uncle Ted be the Bad Thing? Thor hopped off the lookout chair and paced from window to window as Dad and Uncle Ted got out of the car. He would give Uncle Ted a thorough sniffing as soon as he came through the door.
But when Uncle Ted entered the house, Thor knew immediately that he wasn’t
the Bad Thing. The Bad Thing was closer, much closer, so close it might arrive at any moment — but it wasn’t Uncle Ted. He ran back to the chair and urgently scanned the street. The Bad Thing might be across the street, hiding in the neighbor’s shrubs, or it might be in a car about to turn the corner and pull up to the Pack’s house, or it might sneak into the woods behind the house, waiting for nightfall . . .
A hand touched Thor’s back, startling him, and he wheeled around snarling, teeth bared, and snapped savagely at the air.
“Jesus!”
Thor was horrified by what he’d done. He’d gotten lost in thought, feeling the shapeless, nearby danger — and he’d snapped at Uncle Ted!
All thoughts of the Bad Thing left his mind as the enormity of his faux pas washed over him. Even showing teeth to a guest was forbidden; to snap was unthinkable.
Years ago, when Thor was full-size but still young and impetuous, Mom and Dad had thrown a party. Thor had never seen anything like it. The house was packed with strangers, and though Thor didn’t know a single one of them, Mom and Dad appeared to be comfortable.
But Thor wasn’t. The sheer size of the crowd made him nervous. And to make matters worse, there were people in the crowd who radiated untrustworthiness, and some who even struck him as downright malicious. One of the guests reached to pet him — one of the untrustworthy ones. Thor was not interested in developing a relationship with such a person, so he growled just loud enough for the creep to hear.
But Dad was standing right behind Thor, and he heard it too.
Dad quietly grabbed the loop in Thor’s choker and dragged him into the kitchen, to the cellar door. He opened the door and pushed Thor through. Only then, away from the guests, did Dad tell Thor he was a Bad Dog. Then he slammed the cellar door.
Thor spent hours at the top of the stairs, mewling and whimpering through the door. But no one let him out or consoled him in any way. No one even stopped to listen to his pleas. It was as if he’d ceased to exist.
He was a Bad Dog, unfit to live with the Pack.
He worried for the Pack’s safety with the untrustworthy guests, but he worried more about his own position in the Pack. What if they never let him out? What if he was banned from the Pack forever?
By the time the party was over, he’d been in a state of panic for hours.
It was a terrible lesson he never forgot.
And now he’d not only growled at a guest, he’d snapped at Uncle Ted, Mom’s own brother.
Dad spoke the awful words that Thor knew were coming.
“Bad Dog!”
Dad picked up a newspaper, rolled it up, and slapped Thor hard on the snout. It stung his nose a little, but the pain was nothing compared to the effect of Dad’s words. It was bad enough to snap in panic and discover he’d offended a Pack relative, but nothing was worse than Dad’s disapproval.
“What’s the matter with you?” Dad demanded angrily. He grabbed Thor’s collar and dragged him off the chair and over to Uncle Ted. Thor crawled as close to the floor as he could and looked left and right as if for an escape route, as his tail wagged involuntarily. He didn’t want to face Uncle Ted. He knew what he’d done. He was terribly ashamed of himself.
He wished he could make his tail stop wagging, but he couldn’t even slow it down. The best he could do was restrain it a little, so it thumped the floor a little less loudly. His tail wasn’t wagging from pleasure, of course — far from it. It was the intimacy of his engagement with Dad that made his tail move. For this awful moment, only he and Dad existed. There was a certain terrible excitement, almost a sexual feeling to the situation. As miserable as he felt, he almost got an erection.
Dad took Thor’s head in one hand and held the choker collar in the other. He lifted Thor’s face up to look at Uncle Ted. Thor tried to avert his eyes, but with his nose pointing directly at Uncle Ted’s face, he couldn’t avoid meeting Uncle Ted’s disappointed gaze.
Dad slapped his snout with the newspaper and chanted, “Bad Dog! You understand me? Bad! Don’t you ever do anything like that again, you hear me?” Thor trembled, but deep inside he was tremendously relieved. He knew this would be the limit of his punishment. He would not be exiled to the cellar.
His place in the Pack was not at risk.
Uncle Ted felt bad about Thor’s predicament, but he knew better than to interfere in family affairs. He put on a sympathetic face for Thor’s benefit, but Thor didn’t see it — he was too ashamed to look.
When Dad finally finished scolding him, Thor was overcome with relief and a desire to made amends. He tried to kiss Dad’s hands, still keeping his rump near the floor and his tail between his legs to show his contrition.
“Don’t apologize to me,” Dad said, pointing to Uncle Ted. “Tell him you’re sorry!”
Thor understood immediately and turned to Uncle Ted, who turned out to be a much more receptive audience. Uncle Ted knelt down and stroked Thor’s neck.
“That’s okay, Thor,” he said. “You’re okay. You’re a Good Dog.”
Thor appreciated the sentiment, but he wondered how Uncle Ted could be so wrong on such an elementary point. Thor couldn’t be a Good Dog and a Bad Dog at the same time. He was a Bad Dog until Dad said he was a Good Dog, and not before.
Feeling he’d done his duty to Uncle Ted, Thor turned again to Dad, and again tried to lick his hands. He dared not leap up for a face kiss before he was forgiven.
Dad was moved, but not very far.
“You gonna be a Good Dog?” he demanded. “Huh? Are you?” Thor answered by desperately kissing his hands. Dad accepted his answer. Almost. He wagged a finger reproachfully at Thor as he said, “You better be. Asshole.”
Thor was back in the fold. He wasn’t a Good Dog yet, but he wasn’t a Bad Dog any more. He would be a Good Dog soon enough. He leaped once and kissed the corner of Dad’s mouth.
“Stop it!” Dad said, annoyed but not angry. Dad opened the front door and pointed to the yard. “Go on out for a while, Stupid.” Thor was more than happy to oblige.
The incident pushed the Bad Thing out of Thor’s mind, and it didn’t return for the rest of the day. He retained a sense of increased caution, but nothing like the nerves he’d been experiencing for most of the week. It was as if the Bad Thing had come and gone.
Dad came out and moved his car into the garage so Ted could park his car under the stairs to the garage apartment.
Thor spent the rest of the afternoon watching Dad and Uncle Ted unload Uncle Ted’s boxes and carry them up the stairs. He followed them up and sniffed at the contents of the open boxes as they put them down, then ran back down the stairs to watch them take more boxes from Uncle Ted’s car.
Finally Uncle Ted got the last item, a suitcase. Dad sat at the top of the stairs, watching Uncle Ted lug the suitcase up with Thor at his heels. Mom stepped out of the kitchen with some beer cans in a plastic web.
“You guys look like you’ve earned a reward,” she said, holding the six-pack up for their approval.
“Great!” Dad said. “Bring ‘em up. I don’t even want to walk down the stairs until I take a little breather.” Then, to Uncle Ted he said, “I thought you were only bringing a few essentials.” Uncle Ted just laughed and pushed past Dad and disappeared into the apartment, followed closely by Thor.
Thor had picked up a surprising scent emanating faintly from Uncle Ted’s suitcase: the scent of the Wild Animal. The smell sent a thrill through him; under normal circumstances he would have whined and poked his nose at the suitcase. But he restrained himself.
Uncle Ted was acting guilty, like a Bad Dog again, only much more so. And once again, no one else in the Pack seemed to notice. So Thor concealed his own emotions. No particular reason; it just felt like the right thing to do under the circumstances.
He watched Uncle Ted out of the corner of his eye, kept his distance, and tried to sniff and poke through his belongings as unobtrusively as possible.
And, though he would never know it, he was right to be s
urreptitious. If Uncle Ted had suspected that Thor smelled the Wild Animal in his belongings, he would never have let him near his things. As it was, Thor’s subterfuge worked perfectly; Uncle Ted blithely tossed the suitcase on one of the two small beds in the apartment, and opened it with Thor standing no more than three feet away.
As he cracked the case, the smell of the Wild Animal wafted out, almost as strong as it had been near the woman’s body. Uncle Ted lifted some clothes out and walked to a dresser opposite the bed, and Thor put his front paws on the bed and poked his nose deep into the suitcase, into the stifling, overwhelming odor of laundry detergent, looking for the source of the Wild Animal’s scent. Uncle Ted turned around and saw what Thor was doing.
“Hey! Get out of there!”
Thor was almost there, almost to the source of the smell. He pushed aside clothes with his muzzle and uncovered the scent carrier just as Dad stepped forward. Thor jumped off the bed, withdrew to the door, and innocently sat down. He was eager to see the source of the scent, but he wasn’t eager to get on Dad’s bad side again.
He didn’t miss much. If he had seen it, he wouldn’t have known what it was.
But Tom saw the shiny police handcuffs in the bottom of the suitcase. They’d been hidden among Uncle Ted’s underwear until Thor uncovered them.
For an instant, Tom had to stifle a laugh. He and Janet sometimes acted out harmless fantasies. Occasionally he tied her up, and would let Janet tie him up if she wanted to , but she didn’t. He almost made a joke about it; then he remembered Uncle Ted’s tragedy.
At a loss for words, he finally said, “Well.” And then, “Thor, you’ve got to have more respect for Uncle Ted’s privacy.”
Of all the mementos to a lost love, Tom thought, handcuffs are an awfully grotesque choice. Not matter how innocently they might have been used.
* * * *
Thor watched Dad and Uncle Ted closely as they looked into the suitcase at the source of the scent. Their reactions would probably tell him more than seeing the thing firsthand.
