put a trash can between us.
I inspected the collar. It was black leather with what looked like an army dog tag attached. The rectangular tag had the name ZEKE stamped on it in large letters and nothing else.
“Oh. My. God,” I said as the dog approached me. “Huge” does not begin to describe how big this dog was. It must have weighed more than two hundred pounds, and it was a dark chocolate truffle color, almost as black as the evening sky.
My heart beat double time. I was standing in the dark with an injured dog as big as a bear. Scratches on the left side of its head and neck still bled from its struggle to get free of the thorns. Surely it was in pain. Would it attack me?
I’ve seen the dog whisperer; the rule is that I should assert my dominance by holding my ground and not dropping my eyes. Easier said than done, believe me, when a two-hundred pound dog is stalking you, but I managed not to run. Why make the attempt? Running wouldn’t help, because no way could I outrun it, and— I don’t know why, but I needed to gain its respect.
He, and I say he now because it was pretty obvious, circled me, his movements slow and predatory. I circled with him, trying to maintain eye contact. After a couple of circles, he came in close. With his tail wagging, he bent his head and rubbed his face on my hand. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then he licked me.
Yuck! Before I could wipe my hand on my jeans, he whipped his head toward the street and growled, a low, menacing rumble that made me shudder. I became as still as a stone waiting to see if he would attack me or something else. What was out there?
The area went silent. Not the chirp of a cricket, the flutter of a bird’s wing, or the scurrying of a squirrel broke the stillness. I waited. Zeke just nudged me and licked my hand again. I moved slowly to put his collar back on, and he stood patiently to let me.
“Zeke, why don’t you go on home? Shoo!” I tried to sound commanding, but my new, giant BFF just nudged me again with his big head and trotted off toward the house.
Great. Alan will love this. I retrieved the trash can, tucked the thorn-shredded mail under my arm, and headed toward the house, just in time to catch the cloudburst. Zeke and I both dashed for the cover of my big front porch. Then we shook ourselves off and watched the rain.
“Zeke, go on home now,” I said after a few moments, trying to put more force behind the words. I even tried to push him away. He just yawned and then sprawled out as if it was time for a nap. Some dog whisperer I was. Well, he didn’t look hurt too badly. If he was still around in the morning, I’d try to find his owner.
I went inside and re-locked the door behind me and then peeked through the blinds. As I watched, Zeke scrambled to his feet, startling me into jumping away from the door. I was glad I hadn’t turned the porch lights off yet—it would have been scarier to have seen only his eyes in the pitch blackness.
I held my breath. After a few moments, he stretched and then set off down the steps, moving with incredible grace for such a massively huge dog. Massive …mastiff…Zeke had to be a mastiff! That’s what he was. I’d had no idea that they got so big. You can’t appreciate the size until you stand next to one.
I was glad he left before Alan got home. Alan doesn’t have the same rapport with animals that I do. Crap! I couldn’t even warn Alan, since I have his cell phone.
Chapter 9
Circus Act
As the adrenaline receded, the cold set into my bones. I shivered and dripped as I squished through the house and up the steps to my bathroom.
I turned on the shower to let the water get hot. When I glanced in the bathroom mirror, I looked gaunt and tired. Maybe the rain wasn’t the only thing making me shiver. My normal, uneventful life had taken a serious turn for the weird, and my face showed every bit of my anxiety. I had dark circles under my eyes, and I looked like I’d been in a
I inspected the collar. It was black leather with what looked like an army dog tag attached. The rectangular tag had the name ZEKE stamped on it in large letters and nothing else.
“Oh. My. God,” I said as the dog approached me. “Huge” does not begin to describe how big this dog was. It must have weighed more than two hundred pounds, and it was a dark chocolate truffle color, almost as black as the evening sky.
My heart beat double time. I was standing in the dark with an injured dog as big as a bear. Scratches on the left side of its head and neck still bled from its struggle to get free of the thorns. Surely it was in pain. Would it attack me?
I’ve seen the dog whisperer; the rule is that I should assert my dominance by holding my ground and not dropping my eyes. Easier said than done, believe me, when a two-hundred pound dog is stalking you, but I managed not to run. Why make the attempt? Running wouldn’t help, because no way could I outrun it, and— I don’t know why, but I needed to gain its respect.
He, and I say he now because it was pretty obvious, circled me, his movements slow and predatory. I circled with him, trying to maintain eye contact. After a couple of circles, he came in close. With his tail wagging, he bent his head and rubbed his face on my hand. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then he licked me.
Yuck! Before I could wipe my hand on my jeans, he whipped his head toward the street and growled, a low, menacing rumble that made me shudder. I became as still as a stone waiting to see if he would attack me or something else. What was out there?
The area went silent. Not the chirp of a cricket, the flutter of a bird’s wing, or the scurrying of a squirrel broke the stillness. I waited. Zeke just nudged me and licked my hand again. I moved slowly to put his collar back on, and he stood patiently to let me.
“Zeke, why don’t you go on home? Shoo!” I tried to sound commanding, but my new, giant BFF just nudged me again with his big head and trotted off toward the house.
Great. Alan will love this. I retrieved the trash can, tucked the thorn-shredded mail under my arm, and headed toward the house, just in time to catch the cloudburst. Zeke and I both dashed for the cover of my big front porch. Then we shook ourselves off and watched the rain.
“Zeke, go on home now,” I said after a few moments, trying to put more force behind the words. I even tried to push him away. He just yawned and then sprawled out as if it was time for a nap. Some dog whisperer I was. Well, he didn’t look hurt too badly. If he was still around in the morning, I’d try to find his owner.
I went inside and re-locked the door behind me and then peeked through the blinds. As I watched, Zeke scrambled to his feet, startling me into jumping away from the door. I was glad I hadn’t turned the porch lights off yet—it would have been scarier to have seen only his eyes in the pitch blackness.
I held my breath. After a few moments, he stretched and then set off down the steps, moving with incredible grace for such a massively huge dog. Massive …mastiff…Zeke had to be a mastiff! That’s what he was. I’d had no idea that they got so big. You can’t appreciate the size until you stand next to one.
I was glad he left before Alan got home. Alan doesn’t have the same rapport with animals that I do. Crap! I couldn’t even warn Alan, since I have his cell phone.
Chapter 9
Circus Act
As the adrenaline receded, the cold set into my bones. I shivered and dripped as I squished through the house and up the steps to my bathroom.
I turned on the shower to let the water get hot. When I glanced in the bathroom mirror, I looked gaunt and tired. Maybe the rain wasn’t the only thing making me shiver. My normal, uneventful life had taken a serious turn for the weird, and my face showed every bit of my anxiety. I had dark circles under my eyes, and I looked like I’d been in a
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