close
. Annubis sniffed the air. Mingled musks, sour-sweet breath, the corn-chip smell of paws, and the ever-present undercurrent of ammonia.
Closer than I thought
.
Suddenly, the darkness surrounding him was blasted away as a bank of blinding bright lights exploded up ahead. Annubis winced and shielded his sensitive eyes from the harsh light. Through his paw-hands he saw a guard tower topped with a cluster of piercing klieg lights.
“Stay!”
a human voice commanded. Annubis found the urge to sit, paralyzed, almost impossible to resist. The voice repeated, never changing in timbre or volume. As his eyes became accustomed to the glare, he could see that the guard tower was empty.
“Stay!”
the voice squawked from a pair of rusty speakers beneath the abandoned guard station.
An automated intruder response
, Annubis gauged.
Nothing but a recording designed to give programmed commands, though I would assume that most of the passed-on pets here failed basic obedience.…
A crowd of slinking shadows emerged from the edges of Annubis’s sight. They crept, low to the ground, separate yet working together as one. Their gait was slow, deliberate, and cunning.
Cats
, Annubis realized as the fur on the back of his neck instinctually raised.
The creatures circled around him, silent and purposeful. The dog god counted thirteen in all. The cats, like inky shadows spilled across the newspapered landscape, stalked nearer, crossing his path on all sides. Their ebony fur rippled with sly, predatory instinct as they tightened their circle, a black velvet noose cinching snug and deadly.
A ragged chorus of bays, howls, and yaps discharged from beyond the rim of brutal light. The cats froze, sniffing the air—stock-still—while their tails jerked about like angry black snakes. Suddenly, above them, sailing over the guard station, were a dozen whizzing balls of yarn. The cats exchanged quick, edgy glances before abruptly bounding away, yielding to their uncontrollable urges. They gamboled past the guard station to intercept the brightly colored balls.
A chaotic jumble of shapes emerged from the murky shadows. A pack of dogs. The first was a terrier, next an Italian greyhound, followed by a beagle, a Chihuahua, and a French bulldog with a limp. Each had a red plastic Speak & Spell strapped to its side and a stylus tied around its neck, all save for the Italian greyhound, who had a round, plastic wheel with farm animal pictures belted to its shaggy side. The beagle was fitted with a pneumatic toy cannon atop its sloping back.
The terrier approached, alert, taking in Annubis with its open, white-and-tan face.
“Um,
good doggie,
” Annubis said, crouching, holdingout the back of his paw-hand for the little dog to sniff. “Thank you for—”
The dog snatched the dangling stylus in its mouth and tapped the Speak & Spell’s keypad.
“Name is Virginia Woof,” the box squawked in a computerized monotone. “You are in Stay! … receiving area for Furafter. We saved you from cats.”
Annubis, realizing that he wasn’t dealing with your average “good doggie,” withdrew his paw-hand and rose.
“The yarn was a clever diversion,” he replied. “Lucky for me you had it with you.”
Virginia Woof nudged the sack lashed to her back with her nose, before typing another message.
“We are pack animals,” the flat voice explained. “Prepared for anything.”
“And resourceful,” Annubis said, gesturing to Virginia Woof’s Speak & Spell. “Why do you choose to communicate in such a way?”
The spry terrier jabbed the toy.
“Old caretaker, Mr. Noah, taught us years ago. Now habit.”
The other dogs joined Virginia Woof. First, the beagle.
“This is Poochiano Pawvarotti,” Virginia Woof said, expertly tapping the Speak & Spell with her stylus. The beagle nodded as the Chihuahua sprang forth, quivering as it tapped its name.
“Hola,” it relayed through the red plastic box on itsside. “I’m Chi-chi LaRue.” The
. Annubis sniffed the air. Mingled musks, sour-sweet breath, the corn-chip smell of paws, and the ever-present undercurrent of ammonia.
Closer than I thought
.
Suddenly, the darkness surrounding him was blasted away as a bank of blinding bright lights exploded up ahead. Annubis winced and shielded his sensitive eyes from the harsh light. Through his paw-hands he saw a guard tower topped with a cluster of piercing klieg lights.
“Stay!”
a human voice commanded. Annubis found the urge to sit, paralyzed, almost impossible to resist. The voice repeated, never changing in timbre or volume. As his eyes became accustomed to the glare, he could see that the guard tower was empty.
“Stay!”
the voice squawked from a pair of rusty speakers beneath the abandoned guard station.
An automated intruder response
, Annubis gauged.
Nothing but a recording designed to give programmed commands, though I would assume that most of the passed-on pets here failed basic obedience.…
A crowd of slinking shadows emerged from the edges of Annubis’s sight. They crept, low to the ground, separate yet working together as one. Their gait was slow, deliberate, and cunning.
Cats
, Annubis realized as the fur on the back of his neck instinctually raised.
The creatures circled around him, silent and purposeful. The dog god counted thirteen in all. The cats, like inky shadows spilled across the newspapered landscape, stalked nearer, crossing his path on all sides. Their ebony fur rippled with sly, predatory instinct as they tightened their circle, a black velvet noose cinching snug and deadly.
A ragged chorus of bays, howls, and yaps discharged from beyond the rim of brutal light. The cats froze, sniffing the air—stock-still—while their tails jerked about like angry black snakes. Suddenly, above them, sailing over the guard station, were a dozen whizzing balls of yarn. The cats exchanged quick, edgy glances before abruptly bounding away, yielding to their uncontrollable urges. They gamboled past the guard station to intercept the brightly colored balls.
A chaotic jumble of shapes emerged from the murky shadows. A pack of dogs. The first was a terrier, next an Italian greyhound, followed by a beagle, a Chihuahua, and a French bulldog with a limp. Each had a red plastic Speak & Spell strapped to its side and a stylus tied around its neck, all save for the Italian greyhound, who had a round, plastic wheel with farm animal pictures belted to its shaggy side. The beagle was fitted with a pneumatic toy cannon atop its sloping back.
The terrier approached, alert, taking in Annubis with its open, white-and-tan face.
“Um,
good doggie,
” Annubis said, crouching, holdingout the back of his paw-hand for the little dog to sniff. “Thank you for—”
The dog snatched the dangling stylus in its mouth and tapped the Speak & Spell’s keypad.
“Name is Virginia Woof,” the box squawked in a computerized monotone. “You are in Stay! … receiving area for Furafter. We saved you from cats.”
Annubis, realizing that he wasn’t dealing with your average “good doggie,” withdrew his paw-hand and rose.
“The yarn was a clever diversion,” he replied. “Lucky for me you had it with you.”
Virginia Woof nudged the sack lashed to her back with her nose, before typing another message.
“We are pack animals,” the flat voice explained. “Prepared for anything.”
“And resourceful,” Annubis said, gesturing to Virginia Woof’s Speak & Spell. “Why do you choose to communicate in such a way?”
The spry terrier jabbed the toy.
“Old caretaker, Mr. Noah, taught us years ago. Now habit.”
The other dogs joined Virginia Woof. First, the beagle.
“This is Poochiano Pawvarotti,” Virginia Woof said, expertly tapping the Speak & Spell with her stylus. The beagle nodded as the Chihuahua sprang forth, quivering as it tapped its name.
“Hola,” it relayed through the red plastic box on itsside. “I’m Chi-chi LaRue.” The
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