by Wayne Smith
Dad went through an unusual set of emotions; first amusement, then confusion, then embarrassment. And a faint shadow of guilt, too.
But the real show was Uncle Ted. His face, his hands, his whole body took on the heavy guilt of the Bad Dog again, much stronger than before. Dad saw it (for once!), but he didn’t seem surprised or curious. He seemed more guilty himself for having noticed it.
Uncle Ted’s Badness had become a cause for concern. It hadn’t mattered much at Uncle Ted’s house; the Pack was only visiting. But now Uncle Ted was living here (joining the Pack?) And he obviously planned to stay a while. His Badness could not be ignored any more.
And then there was the smell of the Wild Animal; it reminded Thor of his feeling that something Bad was coming. The two seemed somehow connected. He wondered what Uncle Ted’s connection with the Wild Animal could be. The scent only meant the two had made some kind of contact. The Wild Animal might have attacked Uncle Ted, or it might have entered his house while he was away, and left its scent on whatever was now in the suitcase. Uncle Ted might not even know the Wild Animal.
But the Bad Dog look on Uncle Ted disturbed Thor deeply.
For the first time, Thor considered Uncle Ted a possible threat to the Pack.
But if Uncle Ted joined the Pack, what could Thor do, other than keep an eye on him?
Chapter 8
“Would you feed the dog, Ted?” Mom said, and quickly added, “Little Ted, I mean. And open a can of cat food for Debbie.”
Teddy was once again stung by his new title, “Little.” Thor saw how he hated it, but no one else in the Pack seemed to notice. Teddy did a fair job of hiding his feelings.
Thor wasn’t confused by the similarity between “Uncle Ted” and “Teddy,” but since Uncle Ted moved in, Mom and Dad started calling him “Ted.” Even that wouldn’t have been so bad if Teddy hadn’t recently requested that he be called “Ted” instead of “Teddy.” Of course, that was before Uncle Ted arrived, but now his new name caused problems. So Mom started calling them “Big Ted” and “Little Ted.” Little Ted didn’t complain much (not enough to make a difference), but he seethed inside, and this latest indignity seemed to make him more determined than ever to outrank Thor.
Thor was well versed in the myriad names the Pack used. The kids could be “kids,” “children,” “guys,” or “brats” when they were acting up. Mom and Dad were also “Janet” and “Tom.” Anyone in the Pack might be “Honey,” if Mom was talking to them. Thor especially liked it when Mom called him “Honey.” Her voice was indescribably sweet when she said it. Thor could also be “Bozo,” “Stupid,” “Horse,” or “Nose.” He was proud of his nicknames. They meant nothing to him, except to remind him how well loved he was.
Sometimes when Mom and Dad were the only humans around, Mom wore a black nightie and Dad called her “Sweetcakes,” and she called him “Sailor.” Whenever they used those names, they either shut themselves in the bedroom and mated, or they shut Thor out in the backyard and mated in the living room or the kitchen, or wherever they happened to be. Afterward, Thor could smell what they’d done, even when they showered and the sickly perfume of soap masked the musky perfume of sex. And he smelled it in their bed, or on the kitchen table, or on the living room rug. And he could always spot that special contentment they felt afterward. The whole house was happier after they mated.
Thor was happier too, knowing they had reinforced their bond, and were doing their Duty as the Pack’s Mating Pair.
But for the moment, the only thing on Thor’s mind was food. The heady bouquet of aromas from the Pack’s dinner put a sharp edge on his appetite, and he watched impatiently for “Little Ted” to serve him his dinner. Dad was on his way into the kitchen, and “Big Ted” sat at the kitchen table, playing the part of the good brother, keeping Mom company. He was obviously going to eat with the Pack again, which Thor didn’t like one bit. Every time Uncle Ted ate with the Pack, it brought him a step closer to Pack membership. He’d been here for days, and he still had the look of a Bad Dog. And Thor was still the only one who saw it.
A permanently Bad Dog in the midst of the Pack. At least he didn’t sleep with the Pack. It was bad enough that he slept in the Pack’s territory.
Thor wanted Uncle Ted gone. He had to concentrate on protecting the Pack from the Bad Thing that was coming. He didn’t need the distraction of Uncle Ted’s guilty behavior, precisely because it was so distracting: He couldn’t tear himself away from it. As long as Uncle Ted acted guilty around the Pack (and he only acted guilty around them, a bad sign in itself), Thor was stuck guarding two fronts. He could only hope that when the Bad Thing arrived, Uncle Ted wouldn’t be around.
To make matters worse, Uncle Ted appeared to notice Thor’s surveillance. Uncle Ted seemed to understand Thor better than the rest of the Pack. On the rare occasions when he looked directly at Thor, it felt as if he looked through him, to see Thor’s very thoughts. Thor found the sensation unnerving. Thor and Uncle Ted went about their business as if they were invisible to everyone else, Thor secretly watching Uncle Ted, and Uncle Ted hiding his guilt from everyone else, and secretly watching Thor.
Uncle Ted had been doing things at night, too.
Thor stood watch at the kitchen window long after the Pack was asleep, listening to the sounds in the garage. He heard Uncle Ted cry out in his sleep and he heard him talk to himself when he was awake. Occasionally, Thor heard the metallic clink of handcuffs locking shut, though he had no idea what the sound was. Thor took to sleeping in the kitchen, as close to the garage as possible.
And now Uncle Ted was sitting with the Pack again, about to have another meal, further solidifying his position within the Pack.
Uncle Ted didn’t go to work, like Dad; he was around all the time. Thor didn’t like that either. If anyone should be around all the time, it should be Dad. Who did Uncle Ted think he was?
Teddy finally finished with the dog food and opened a can of cat food for Debbie. Kitty was Debbie’s pet, but Debbie couldn’t handle the can opener yet, so she did what she could — she spooned Kitty’s food into her dish and put the dish on the floor for her. Teddy gave Thor his food, and he began to chow down as Mom herded the rest of the Pack into the kitchen for dinner. Debbie carefully put Kitty’s food on the floor about ten feet away from Thor. Thor issued a low, whining growl, just to remind Kitty whose food was whose.
He’d had a problem with the cat over food a few days before Uncle Ted arrived, and the memory still rankled him. It had worked out all right (no thanks to Dad), but it was most unpleasant while it lasted.
The Pack kept the dog food and cat food together in a kitchen cabinet under the sink. The cabinet doors were held shut by magnets, not latches, and the kitten, in her tireless search for small dark places to explore, had discovered she could pull the cabinet door open with her paw. She grabbed the edge of the door and pulled, and the cabinet opened about a half inch before slamming shut again. She repeated the operation twice before she swung it far enough to stay open. The noise brought Thor into the kitchen just as she disappeared into the cabinet. Thor was aghast. He ran to the open cabinet and barked at the trespassing cat. Kitty had no idea why he barked. She backed deeper into the cabinet.
Thor lost it. The cat was cringing between his food cans! Something had to be done! He growled at her to get out, but she just scrunched herself deeper into the corner.
Thor’s mind swam in confusion. It the cat weren’t a Pack member, he’d simply kill her — no problem. Kitty might get in one or two painful scratches, but she would be dead before she could do serious harm.
But the cat was a Pack member. Violence was not an option.
Thor whimpered and whined, hoping Mom or Dad would hear him and come punish the cat for its criminal behavior. Nothing happened. He tried growling at the cat again, but the cat (who was just starting to relax) shrank back at the sound of the warning.
There was only one thing to do.
He stuck his head into the c
abinet, turned it sideways and gently took one of his dog food cans in his teeth. He backed out, walked across the kitchen, and put the can on the floor at the farthest point from the cabinet, whimpering for help the whole time.
He returned to the cabinet. Kitty was still inside. He tried growling again (what else was there?), and the kitten dug in. He switched from growling to whining as he lifted the next can of dog food out.
He repeated the process about four times before Dad came in to find out what all the fuss was about.
At first, Dad couldn’t figure out what was going on. He watched Thor remove a can, then looked in the cabinet to see what Thor was growling at. When he realized what was happening, instead of helping Thor, he fell on the floor laughing.
Thanks a lot, Dad!
Dad watched Thor empty the entire cabinet of dog food, a can at a time. Thor then removed a box of dog biscuits with extra care (but still managed to spill some on the floor). He growled extra loud as he went back to pick up the precious biscuits and drop them on the floor next to the box.
Dad finally intervened, but only after Thor had cleaned out all the cat food cans and started on the people food on the shelf above. Thor had looked to Dad the whole time, imploring him to step in and end this awful situation, but Dad just laughed. When Dad finally took action, it wasn’t to help Thor, but to stop him from removing the Pack’s food. He shooed Thor away and pulled the cat from the cabinet, then put the dog biscuits back in their box, and the box and cans back in the cabinet.
The very next day, Thor was distressed to discover the cat inside the cabinet again. But after a few replays of the incident (the kitten never did understand what was happening — she just enjoyed opening the cabinets and sneaking in), Dad got some tools from the cellar, worked on the cabinet for a while, and domestic tranquility was restored. Thor’s faith in Dad leadership was restored.
* * * *
Thor finished his dinner and strolled over to the kitchen table to see what treats he might pick up — and to watch Uncle Ted. As he approached the table, without warning, Uncle Ted tossed him a scrap of meat.
Thor was startled by the sudden move, but his reactions were up to it. He lunged, snapping it out of the air flawlessly. His performance was awe inspiring, as always.
He hoped it would demonstrate to Uncle Ted the foolishness of contemplating any Bad behavior toward the Pack.
“My watchdog,” Uncle Ted said sardonically.
“He’s not your dog!” Debbie objected. “He’s our dog!”
Uncle Ted laughed ruefully. “Oh, I know honey. That’s not what I meant. He’s your watchdog because he watches for you. But he watches me.”
Dad looked at Mom quizzically. Mom gave him a look that said, “I’ll tell you later.”
Thor ignored the conversation. He could see there were no more treats forthcoming (the Pack was still eating, and except for Uncle Ted’s oddball behavior, treats came after dinner only). He made himself comfortable on the tile floor, facing slightly away from the dinner table, slightly away from Uncle Ted, but keeping an eye on both.
Chapter 9
Dusk.
Uncle Ted had been living with the Pack for almost a month now, and Thor was miserable. His relationship with Uncle Ted, once his favorite relative, could best be described as a truce, and Thor didn’t have the slightest idea why.
Dad still wasn’t aware how deep the tension between them ran, but he knew something was wrong. Mom was painfully aware, but for reasons she didn’t understand, she hadn’t spoken to Dad about it. Thor was aware of Mom’s discretion and felt tremendously grateful to Mom for it, but like her, he wasn’t sure why. He had no idea what was happening. He only knew that the longer Uncle Ted stayed, the less Thor trusted him.
And it wasn’t just his feelings toward Uncle Ted that confused him; his feelings about himself were changing.
He used to enjoy the clicking sound his claws made on the tiled kitchen floor and the hardwood floor in the dining room. Now he hated it. It announced his every move, and made it difficult to shadow Uncle Ted without being obvious. And Thor’s constant pacing from room to room was getting on Mom’s nerves. Thor didn’t like being a source of annoyance, but what could he do?
He did what he had to do. He did his Duty. He kept an eye on Uncle Ted. He paced nervously when he was stuck inside the house, and on the rare occasions when Uncle Ted wasn’t on Pack territory, he sat in the lookout chair, staring at the street.
And now Uncle Ted was doing something at night; something more than just rattling around in his apartment.
He’d been getting more active every night for days, more fidgety toward sundown, and more eager to get away from the Pack before dark.
And every night Thor felt the Bad Thing come closer. The Bad Thing was always out there somewhere during the day, but it was very close at night. In the last few nights the Bad Thing was not only closer, it was bigger and stronger. Thor hadn’t slept at night for the last three days, and his daytime naps were so long and constant that Dad was getting worried about his health.
He wouldn’t sleep tonight either. Tonight, the Bad Thing was so near, Thor almost thought he could smell it. Tonight, Thor was frantic.
Uncle Ted had retired to his apartment at sundown, then left his apartment just after the sky became dark, as the kids were bedding down, and Mom and Dad watched the TV in their bedroom.
Uncle Ted walked down the stairs quietly, surreptitiously, and he glanced back at the house as he went. Thor pulled away from the kitchen window and backed into the shadows of the kitchen as Uncle Ted looked in his direction, but he knew Uncle Ted had seen him. It didn’t matter; Uncle Ted didn’t have to catch Thor in the act to know he was under surveillance. They both knew their parts in this little play.
Uncle Ted walked quickly into the woods behind the house, wearing clothes Thor had never seen before; a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and running shoes. Something at his waist glinted in the moonlight; the handcuffs. Thor made a mental note of the sound they made, the distinctive, high-pitched jingle of metal on metal.
Thor watched him disappear into the woods as the moon began to rise. The moon had been getting brighter lately, and once it cleared the horizon, Thor would be able to see almost as well as if it were daytime. Thor’s night vision was far superior to a human’s.
But light or no light, once Uncle Ted disappeared into the woods, Thor had no way of knowing where he was or what he was doing. He didn’t like it. He paced nervously from window to window, watching for Uncle Ted. Uncle Ted might circle back and approach the house from any angle.
Thor woofed quietly to himself. He’d learned, painfully, to refrain from barking at night. In the last few days, Uncle Ted had emerged from the apartment almost every night, always just as the sun was going down, and after the Pack was in bed. Each time, Thor had felt the Bad Thing come closer, much closer, as if Uncle Ted were calling it. Each time, Thor had sounded a warning, and each time Thor had been punished when it was discovered that the intruder was only Uncle Ted, going for a walk.
So he woofed to himself when he saw Uncle Ted leaving, and he woofed to himself in frustration when he couldn’t see where Uncle Ted went.
But now he woofed to himself for another reason.
The Bad Thing was here.
It was no longer here-and-not-here, it was here. Now. He could feel its presence in the woods behind the house. It had finally arrived. And unusual emotion passed through Thor, one he almost never felt: fear.
He mentally shrugged it off, and it was gone. But for a moment it had really shaken him.
Thor stared out the window at the forest, where he knew the Bad Thing was. His hair was high on his back and a low growl rumbled in his throat.
He saw nothing.
But something was happening.
Something not good. The Bad Thing was out there, and it wanted to get at the Pack. He felt its evil as strongly as he felt the Pack’s love, and he couldn’t keep silent any longer.
He barked as loud as he could, steadily, relentlessly, determined to wake the whole Pack. They were in terrible danger.
“What the hell?” Tom said angrily. He’d just been drifting into a pleasant dream when the barking woke him. “That damn dog!” He listened for a moment until he was sure it wasn’t going to stop, then really cursed as he threw off the sheets.
“Don’t assume,” Janet said quietly. She wasn’t angry like Tom. She was frightened.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means remember the boy who cried wolf,” Janet said. “We don’t know what he’s barking at, so let’s find out first. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll find out what’s up, then I’ll kill him.” He heaved himself out of bed, wrapped his wife’s bathrobe around himself, and trudged off to find out what was freaking out the damn dog this time. But on the way down the stairs, the urgency of the barking got to him, and he found himself seriously considering what Janet had said, and wondering if he shouldn’t have some sort of weapon.
* * * *
Thor’s barks bounced off the hard kitchen walls and floor like a sledgehammer. He stood with his front feet on the kitchen door, watching the woods as he repeated his warning to whatever was out there. He barked so loud he didn’t even hear Dad come down the stairs. But he felt the vibration of Dad’s heavy steps on the dining room floor, and he darted to the kitchen door to meet him, glad to have finally wakened someone who could open a door.
But Dad wasn’t glad to see him.
“Be quiet!” he shouted, barely audible over the constant barking. Dad squinted through the kitchen window at the moonlit backyard and the woods beyond, and saw nothing.
But Thor refused to stop. The danger in the woods was far more important than mere disobedience. He dashed to the back door, put both paws up, looked through the glass, and barked to show Dad where the problem was.
