Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
DOG
C oming to Dad’s office was as far as I got in my planning. I know five different ways to get here from our apartment and a sixth that no one else knows about.
The automatic lights come on, and my chest expands. I look around the bathroom: sink, poop pot, shelves—it’s mostly the same, but maybe less gross. A girl must have been in here last because the poop pot is thankfully closed.
My stomach gurgles, and the fried chicken I found behind the gas station threatens to re-enter this world. I gag. Beast’s footsteps on the other side of the closed door are nothing like Dad’s. Why isn’t Dad coming? I shiver at the thought of being alone. If he’s not here, where else could he be?
I need a new plan.
I hop onto the lowest shelf and sniff the glass that smells like lemons. You should see the bathroom we have at home. So gross.
Hmm, what’s that other smell? Something . . . familiar. I sniff deeper. My nose twitches, trying to place it. My bone. Oh, how I’ve missed my baby girl. My tail pops up as I follow the scent.
Dad and I have spent a lot of time in this room. For a while, I thought sitting on the poop pot was his job. Hiding my bone here was the only thing that got me through those smelly days.
“That coffee goes right through me,” Dad would say.
I never did understand the point of drinking that black stuff if it just comes right back out. Seems like a waste of time to me.
The shelves are still stacked with the magazines Dad would flip through whenever we got comfortable in here. I'm a dog, so I understand finding the perfect poop spot is hard. Dad reusing the same one is pretty gross if you ask me. But hey, who am I to judge? My favorite hobby involves scootching my butt on the carpet when I think no one is watching.
Dad said my bone was the secret to me being the goodest boy. I’ve seen those doomsday prepper shows. You never know when you might be locked in the bathroom with someone searching for the golden poop moment. You might as well have a snack.
Am I right?
Nose to the ground, I get back to business.
“Don't worry, baby girl, I’ll find you,” I woof, hoping my bone hears me. I was made for this. Sniffing out where things are is something I’m never wrong about. This nose is made of gold.
I jump up on the poop pot and from there onto a higher shelf. I sniff every corner, knocking off everything in my way because this is an emergency. A bone emergency. Leaving no spot un-sniffed, I balance on the front of the sink. The scent grows stronger. I must be getting closer.
In the large glass thing that hangs on the wall, a mud-caked dog stares back at me. Not the internet-famous marine working dog who everyone knows and loves. Is that what I look like now? You can’t even see my gray eyebrows. My eyes widen. What if I smell as bad as I look? I’m all for a nice earthworm perfume on a summer day but even I have standards. I want the ladies to walk past me in the park and think, “Wow, now this is a guy I want to share my bone with.”
Personally, I’m an Aveeno Oatmeal Shampoo kind of guy. I take a whiff. I do smell worse than I look. I reek. My tail tucks between my legs. Dad always made me look and smell good before we went bye-bye to the park or the office. After each bath, he would tell me how handsome of a boy I was. I always shook and shivered while secretly enjoying it. A small whimper leaves me. I miss you, Dad. I even miss our bathtime. I hope I find you soon. Skin shuddering under my fur, I remind myself of the tasks at hand.
Find bone. Find Dad. Take nap. In that order.
Sorry, Dad. Priorities.
I walk to the edge of the sink and look down at the last un-sniffed corner. There behind a broom is my bone. She’s waiting for me. I hope she missed me as much as I missed her. My mouth starts to water. Man, even after the gas station chicken incident, I can’t say no to my bone. I jump down, paw it out of its little nook, and sit on the floor.
Task number one is complete. Go me. My tail wags. I really am a good boy.
Human voices sound from behind the bathroom door, and the magic ball on the door rattles.
Oh, no.
Hide.
Where do I hide?
As the door creaks, my heart is no longer in my body. I mean, I’m small. I can fit in most places. But where are the stacks of empty pizza boxes Dad hoarded that were tall enough for me to hide behind? The rumbling in my stomach returns. To cover my bone, I lay down. I slip into work mode and stay as still as possible like I did when danger was close by.
Beast slowly opens the door like I’m the suspicious one here, and his gaze finds me. He’s real tall. And . . . wide. The sleeves of his suit strain against his massive muscles. In his hand is one of those black rectangular soul-catching devices my dad loved putting in my face. I dare not breathe.
Be a statue. Don't blink.
My eyes strain as they dry like they do when I stick my head out the window for too long. If I keep them open for much longer, I may fart and puke at the same time.
Luckily, the door closes as quickly as it opened and I unfreeze. I stand up and blink. My legs wobble. Tiny shivers run up my spine. I lay back down, giving my body the much-needed rest from that large test of strength. My heart returns to my chest. I used to be able to hold the pose for a lot longer when I was working, but the pizza nights with Dad have made it much harder.
“So cute.” A woman’s voice says from behind the closed door. “Is it hungry?”
“We didn’t exactly have a conversation.”
Now that I can breathe again, I get into my prime bone-munching position, wrapping my paws around my girl. Yeah, this feels right. I give her one slow lick to take in the taste of the life I used to know. Bones are all I need.
Oh yeah, and Dad.
“Do you have any meat?” says the mystery woman.
My ears perk up. I might like her. I could go for some meat. Knowing that a chance for chicken nuggets or a cheeseburger is a possibility, I put my bone back in the corner for safekeeping. I return to the door, sitting in my pretty boy position with my legs swept to the side, and wait for it to open.
Something other than me growls on the other side of the door, and I go from pretty boy to dangerous boy in .5 seconds. I back up and give a low growl as a warning not to mess with me.
“No.” Beast grumbles.
Oh. No meat? That’s . . .um . . . disappointing.
The noise on the other side of the door intensifies. I extend my ears to hear what all the hubbub is about, but the sound moves away. I shift a bit closer.
I hear the word “Dog.”
I’m a dog.
“Treats.”
I like treats.
“Toys.”
I really like toys.
“Vet.”
Nope, don’t like that.