seldom went, was made of the same steel as the fence and was, in fact, even a little shorter. With a running start, I could probably clear it.
The idea wouldn’t leave my mind. I would leap over the fence and follow my nose and find the cooking meat and a person would give me something to eat.
Though the whole concept made me drool, just thinking about leaving the yard made me feel like a bad dog. CJ would need me to be here. I couldn’t protect her if I ran off in search of a meal.
Whimpering, I went back through the dog door to check my food bowl again. Still nothing. With a moan, I curled up, the sick emptiness in my belly too strong to allow sleep.
I was in the basement when I heard Trent calling my name. I ran out the dog door and he was standing in the yard, whistling for me. I was so happy to see him I barreled right into him, and he laughed and wrestled with me. I could smell Rocky all over him.
“Hi, Molly! Are you okay? You miss CJ, don’t you.”
I heard the back door slide open and Gloria was standing there. “Are you here to take him with you?” she asked.
“Molly is a she,” Trent said. I sat at my name. “Have you been feeding her?”
“Have I been feeding her?” Gloria said. I felt a small jolt of emotion—alarm, maybe—go through Trent.
“You haven’t fed her?”
“Don’t speak to me with that tone. I assumed there was food out for her somewhere. No one told me any different.”
“But … I just can’t believe you’d let a dog go hungry.”
“And that’s why you’re here. For the dog. Right.” An ugly emotion was coming off of Gloria, something like anger.
“Well … yeah. I mean…”
“You’re here because you think feeding the dog will get you in good with Clarity. I know you’ve got the hots for her.”
Trent took a deep breath and then let it out very slowly. “Come on, Molly,” he said quietly.
I followed Trent to the backyard gate, looking over my shoulder at Gloria when he stopped to open it. She was standing with her hands on her hips and staring me in the eyes. It made me frightened, the way she looked at me.
Trent took me to Rocky’s house and fed me. I was really hungry and growled at Rocky when he tried to get me to play before I was ready. When I was finished my belly was pleasantly full and I felt sluggish and just wanted to nap, but Rocky had a rope in his mouth and was running around in the yard as if I could never catch him, which of course was untrue. I ran over to him and grabbed the other end of the rope and we pulled each other around the yard. Trent was watching and he laughed, and when he did Rocky looked over at him, and I took advantage of the lapse in attention and yanked the rope away and took off, Rocky in hot pursuit.
That night Rocky and I lay together on the floor of Trent’s room, utterly exhausted. I’d momentarily forgotten about CJ in the battle for the rope, but now, in the dark room, I missed her and felt sad. Rocky sniffed me and nuzzled me and licked my mouth, eventually resting his head on my chest.
Trent left the next morning, and the way he did so—getting more and more hurried as he dressed, gathering papers—let me to conclude he was doing school. Rocky and I wrestled, played more with the rope, and dug a couple of holes in the backyard. When he returned home Trent fed us and spoke crossly to us as he played with the dirt, filling in the holes we’d made. Apparently we, or at least Rocky, were bad dogs for something, but we didn’t know what. Rocky stood with his head low and his ears down for a while, but then Trent petted him and everything was okay.
We were wrestling and Trent was in the house when the side gate clanged. Rocky and I barked, running over with our fur up, but I dropped my ears and charged joyously when I saw my girl standing there. “Molly!” she called happily. “Hi, Rocky!”
Rocky kept shoving that stupid rope in the way as CJ dropped to her knees and put her arms around me and
The idea wouldn’t leave my mind. I would leap over the fence and follow my nose and find the cooking meat and a person would give me something to eat.
Though the whole concept made me drool, just thinking about leaving the yard made me feel like a bad dog. CJ would need me to be here. I couldn’t protect her if I ran off in search of a meal.
Whimpering, I went back through the dog door to check my food bowl again. Still nothing. With a moan, I curled up, the sick emptiness in my belly too strong to allow sleep.
I was in the basement when I heard Trent calling my name. I ran out the dog door and he was standing in the yard, whistling for me. I was so happy to see him I barreled right into him, and he laughed and wrestled with me. I could smell Rocky all over him.
“Hi, Molly! Are you okay? You miss CJ, don’t you.”
I heard the back door slide open and Gloria was standing there. “Are you here to take him with you?” she asked.
“Molly is a she,” Trent said. I sat at my name. “Have you been feeding her?”
“Have I been feeding her?” Gloria said. I felt a small jolt of emotion—alarm, maybe—go through Trent.
“You haven’t fed her?”
“Don’t speak to me with that tone. I assumed there was food out for her somewhere. No one told me any different.”
“But … I just can’t believe you’d let a dog go hungry.”
“And that’s why you’re here. For the dog. Right.” An ugly emotion was coming off of Gloria, something like anger.
“Well … yeah. I mean…”
“You’re here because you think feeding the dog will get you in good with Clarity. I know you’ve got the hots for her.”
Trent took a deep breath and then let it out very slowly. “Come on, Molly,” he said quietly.
I followed Trent to the backyard gate, looking over my shoulder at Gloria when he stopped to open it. She was standing with her hands on her hips and staring me in the eyes. It made me frightened, the way she looked at me.
Trent took me to Rocky’s house and fed me. I was really hungry and growled at Rocky when he tried to get me to play before I was ready. When I was finished my belly was pleasantly full and I felt sluggish and just wanted to nap, but Rocky had a rope in his mouth and was running around in the yard as if I could never catch him, which of course was untrue. I ran over to him and grabbed the other end of the rope and we pulled each other around the yard. Trent was watching and he laughed, and when he did Rocky looked over at him, and I took advantage of the lapse in attention and yanked the rope away and took off, Rocky in hot pursuit.
That night Rocky and I lay together on the floor of Trent’s room, utterly exhausted. I’d momentarily forgotten about CJ in the battle for the rope, but now, in the dark room, I missed her and felt sad. Rocky sniffed me and nuzzled me and licked my mouth, eventually resting his head on my chest.
Trent left the next morning, and the way he did so—getting more and more hurried as he dressed, gathering papers—let me to conclude he was doing school. Rocky and I wrestled, played more with the rope, and dug a couple of holes in the backyard. When he returned home Trent fed us and spoke crossly to us as he played with the dirt, filling in the holes we’d made. Apparently we, or at least Rocky, were bad dogs for something, but we didn’t know what. Rocky stood with his head low and his ears down for a while, but then Trent petted him and everything was okay.
We were wrestling and Trent was in the house when the side gate clanged. Rocky and I barked, running over with our fur up, but I dropped my ears and charged joyously when I saw my girl standing there. “Molly!” she called happily. “Hi, Rocky!”
Rocky kept shoving that stupid rope in the way as CJ dropped to her knees and put her arms around me and
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