4. Madison
4
MADISON
My heart pounds in my chest as I run through the neighborhood, calling out for Scout. “Scout! Scout, where are you?” The panic is rising in my throat, threatening to choke me. How could I let this happen? I should have been more careful, should have made sure that Scout was safe in another room before I opened the door. Now this little puppy is out there, lost, and it’s all my fault.
I can just imagine his owner’s face if I call him right now and say he’s gotten out.
I stop at the corner of the street, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. My mind races with all the horrible possibilities—Scout could get hit by a car, picked up by some stranger, or run off so far that I’ll never find him.
I can’t keep dwelling on that. I need to use all my senses to find Scout. I need to use Samson. A dog can find another dog better than a human.
Taking a steadying breath, I head back to my house at a steady pace. Samson is sitting on the porch, alert, as though he is aware he’s missing out on the fun.
“Samson! Come!” I call when I reach the edge of the yard. He comes, but only as far as his electric fence lets him. I go inside the circle, take off his underground fence collar, and pat my leg. “Let’s find Scout!”
Samson is excited by this prospect of an adventure, and he hurries across the street to the neighbor’s yard. Wincing at how many rules I’m breaking right now, I let Samson circle the house, hoping to hear Scout’s yips as soon as Samson comes around the other side.
But there’s nothing. It goes like that house after house. We’ve walked the whole block to the cross street.
Once again, I listen carefully, hoping to hear the sound of his little paws on the pavement or someone shouting about a dog trespassing. But all I hear is the hum of cars going up and down the road and the rustle of dead leaves in the bitterly cold breeze. I bite my lip, trying to keep the tears at bay. Crying won’t help.
There’s just a thought in the back of my head that tells me that I could be responsible not only for losing Scout but also for single-handedly ruining my chance to earn an income from this dog-sitting business.
“Think, Madison, think,” I whisper to myself. Where could he have gone? He’s so small, he couldn’t have gotten far. Should I keep searching? Turn left…or right?
The streets go on for blocks and blocks, getting progressively further from the sound and closer to the ocean. The streets get busier the closer you get to the ocean.
“Samson!” I call, and Samson heels. “Scout!” I tell him, wishing I had been smart enough to bring one of Scout’s toys for the scent. I know Samson isn’t a tracker, though. He’s still a puppy himself.
Something tells me Scout didn’t get far. We have to comb this block again. I look down at my phone, surprised that over an hour has passed. I tell myself that if we don’t find Scout in the next hour, I’ll have to tell his owner.
“Samson, this way.” I move slowly, my eyes combing each yard as we walk. I live on a dead-end street, and mine is nearly the last house in the row. If he had gone the other way, he could have gone through the marsh behind the three houses on the cul-de-sac.
There are too many possibilities.
Then, just as I’m passing Ethan’s house—I don’t even want to think his name—I hear it. A sharp, high-pitched bark. My heart leaps in my chest.
That’s Scout! It has to be!
I spin around, trying to pinpoint where the sound came from, and then I hear it again, clearer this time.
It’s coming from Ethan’s yard, but it’s not just close to his house… It’s in his yard.
“Samson, this way.” I break into a run, and Samson bounds excitedly beside me.
Of course, it has to be here . My heart sinks a little. After the way things went down with Ethan yesterday, the last thing I want is to face him again. But this is Scout. I have to get him back. I can’t just leave him there.
I jog across Ethan’s front yard to where his backyard is separated by a fence. The tall wooden fence looms in front of me, the top just out of reach. It must be six feet tall. Why does he have such a tall fence? I try the gate, but it’s locked. Typical.
The barking continues, more frantic now. “Scout,” I call softly before glancing at the house. I’d rather get Scout out without confronting Ethan, but I’ll do what I have to do.
Scout runs over to the other side of the fence, and I hear him scratching against it. Samson sniffs eagerly at this side of the fence, and Scout’s barks become happier. Okay, good. Samson can keep him entertained while I worry about getting him out. I’m not going to just stand here and wait for Ethan to stroll out and let me in.
I take a deep breath, glancing around to make sure no one’s watching, and then I grip the fence and start to climb. It’s not easy, and I’m not exactly dressed for fence climbing. However, I manage to pull myself up and over, landing with a thud on the other side.
I wince. I definitely haven’t hurt myself, but that wasn’t a soft landing either.
I don’t even take a second to catch my breath before I’m up. Scout is all over me, his tongue on my face like I’m a piece of bacon.
I scoop him up and squeeze him to me, realizing I should have brought a leash. How am I going to get Scout over the fence without setting him free again?
Clearly, I’m new to this whole dog-sitting business.
As I try to figure out my escape plan, I realize I shouldn’t have to sneak out and try not to bother Ethan. He literally stole Scout and put him out here in the freezing cold. Based on Scout’s reaction, he clearly didn’t feel safe here.
My relief is quickly replaced by anger. I turn toward the fence, realizing the latch is easy to undo from this side. I push it open and slip through, keeping Scout firmly in my arms. Samson trots excitedly beside me. Instead of heading back home like common sense is telling me, I march toward the front of the house. I’m going to confront him head-on.
I reach the front door and start banging on it, not caring if I wake the whole neighborhood. “Ethan! Open up!”
It takes a few minutes, but finally, the door swings open. There he is, looking like he just rolled out of bed. His hair is mussed, and he’s wearing a robe. It’s difficult to tell what he might be wearing underneath…or if he’s wearing anything at all. He blinks at me, clearly surprised to see me standing on his doorstep with Scout in my arms.
“Hey! How did you get Scout?” Ethan asks as though I’ve just taken the last bag of his favorite chips from the store shelf. The look on his face makes him look even younger than his salt-sprinkled hair indicates.
“Don’t act like you own him. He’s my puppy.”
He frowns, looking genuinely confused. Then, he looks at Samson pointedly. “I thought that was your puppy. What are you talking about?”
Scout barks excitedly, like he wants to get in on the conversation too.
“I dog-sit, Ethan. He’s my responsibility, and you kept him in your backyard for hours while I was canvassing the neighborhood for him.”
Realization seems to dawn on him. “I found him in my yard a couple of hours ago. I thought he was a stray. And he wasn’t in the backyard for a couple of hours. I put him out there five minutes ago so he could pee… You know, not on the carpet.”
“A stray? He has a collar, Ethan. Did you even bother to check it?”
He narrows his eyes, clearly getting annoyed. But I don’t care if I’m ticking him off. It’s not my job to treat him carefully. “Yeah, I checked it. It just has his name on it. How was I supposed to know he belonged to you…or that you were dog-sitting him?”
“Maybe by asking around? You know, a normal person would talk to their neighbors instead of just assuming he was some random stray.”
Ethan crosses his arms over his chest, his expression hardening. “Look, I didn’t know, okay? I was going to take care of him until I found his owner. I was planning to take him to a vet to see if he was microchipped.”
“Take care of him? Putting him outside in this freezing weather isn’t taking care of him.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re being ridiculous. I was trying to help. If I hadn’t found him, he could’ve been hit by a car or worse.”
“I would have found him. I was out there looking for him the moment I watched him run out the front door. If your ears were working, you would have heard me calling his name. You didn’t ‘save’ him, Ethan. You just made things worse.”
We stand there, glaring at each other. Scout is squirming in my arms, sensing the hostility, and I try to calm myself down for his sake. But it’s hard when I’m this angry. Angry at Ethan for taking Scout, and maybe a little angry at myself for letting this happen in the first place.
Finally, Ethan sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. You’ve got your dog back. What more do you want from me?”
I stare at him, my anger still simmering just below the surface. There’s so much I want to say, but I know it won’t make a difference. He’s not going to apologize, and I’m not going to change his mind about what he did. It’s pointless to keep arguing.
“Nothing. I just want you to stay away from my dogs, and that includes Samson and the dogs I take care of. I’ve got it under control.”
Ethan’s eyes flash with something that makes them difficult to read. “I can see that.” He looks pointedly at Scout, and I hate the fact that he’s taking another little dig at me.
I turn around and march back to my house. To my annoyance, Samson stays behind for a few seconds longer to sniff Ethan’s leg before bounding after me.
Once I’m safely inside, I place Scout on the floor. He happily starts playing with Samson as if nothing ever happened. I’m shaking, though. I’m shaking with relief that I have the puppy back, and I’m shaking because I only said half of what I wanted to say to Ethan.
The rest of it, I can’t even put into words because I don’t understand it myself.