Fight Or Flight

by Amy Shojai

  Except her name on the baby bracelet—her real one, not the short version the Corazon’s gave her—told a different story. The bracelet’s dainty plumeria flowers framed a name spelled out in tiny individual letters:

  Apikalia.

  She’d looked it up. The flowers and the name were Hawaiian. It had to mean something.

  Angry with herself for rising to the old bait, Lia bent down and scooped up Miss Purple Collar. In order to tell puppies apart and keep track of health and birth order, each wore a color-coded collar. She relished the smell of puppy breath when the baby slurped her face, and Lia kissed the top of her smooth black head. “How about we play a new game? We’ll call it, TRIP. Sound good, puppy-girl? My little Karma?”

  This one attracted all kinds of trouble, but Lia liked her attitude and drive. “You like that name, Karma?” The puppy cocked her head and slurped her face. “Good girl, Karma!”

  If Grammy and Grandfather considered her a mutt, a poi dog unworthy of the Corazon name, so be it. Dogs loved you no matter what. The Karma-pup didn’t care about unknown fathers or dead mothers

  Apikalia meant my father’s delight. Had he chosen her name? Or was it her mother’s wishful thinking?

  Too many unanswered questions. Lia wanted—no, she needed to know where she came from before stepping into her future.

  Lia bounced Karma in her arms, and hurried to round up the rest of the litter. Everything depended on what happened today. Failure would mean a continuation of the Corazon’s told-ya-so hell.

  Chapter 3

  Karma struggled in Lia’s arms. She hated restraint. The girl’s hugs didn’t hurt but reminded Karma of her mother’s discipline. Even though Lia had the right to tell Karma what to do—she was the leader, after all—the unpleasant sensation made Karma squirm.

  Her littermates bounced around the girl’s feet, and Karma tried to enjoy her elevated view from Lia’s arms. The familiar building they approached meant home and safety, but it shut out the best sniffs and sounds. The sniffs and sounds that made life exciting and fun. Karma yearned for adventure, to explore beyond the wire walls of her kennel, and to escape the protective flank of her dam, Dolly. Even at her young age, Karma’s confidence outshone that of her mother and siblings combined.

  A loud rumbling growl sounded overhead. She strained to look upwards. Did a dog hide above? Dark billowing shapes mounded and surged as far as she could see, perhaps pushed by the same invisible breath that combed the grass of the nearby field.

  “Puppy-puppy-puppy, COME!” The girl’s sharp command had the litter surging through the open wired door, back into the kennel where Karma’s dam waited—shy as always and curled up tight in a corner. A handful of treats tossed onto the pavement prompted a rush of squeals and happy barks. Even Dolly roused enough to claim a few morsels.

  Lia’s arms tightened when Karma squirmed, she wanted her share of the treats. “Not you, puppy-girl. We’ve got a new game to play.”

  Karma barked and grinned. She knew two of those words. Sometimes she learned words all by herself. She was smart that way. What would happen when both play and game words came together? Her short black tail stood straight up, and her entire back end wiggled. That happened a lot when she recognized happy words.

  The girl unhooked a target stick hanging on the wall before she set Karma back on the grass. The pointer helped Karma know where to look while learning new games.

  Cold mud squished under Karma’s feet as she bounced across the yard. The wet on her paws reminded her of another urgent need, and Karma trotted off a short distance to squat. She didn’t even wait to be told to take-a-break. She finished and looked around with a hopeful wag. Sometimes she got paid for peeing. She liked it when that happened.

  But not this time. She cocked her head and focused on Lia for some clue about the game. Karma knew many of the mouth-sounds people used, the important ones like tug and play and Karma, and the sniffing game where she got to ferret out treats hidden around the yard. She also knew the less exciting words like come and sit. Karma loved hearing her new name because it signaled something fun would happen. But she didn’t care as much for sit or come. Beckoning sniffs, sights and sounds distracted and led her astray. But if treats or a game of tug were involved, Karma could be persuaded to do most anything.

  She took a moment to sniff the warm wet spot she’d made—self-smell made her feel happy and safe—before racing after Lia’s churning feet. The skipping shoes triggered her instinct to chase-chase-chase, to grab and grapple and wrestle.

  People covered their feet, muffling the good sniffs that came from between their toes. Karma wondered why Lia avoided the delicious feel of grass and dirt on her foot pads. How did people nibble an itchy paw? Balancing on two instead of four paws must be hard, too. How did people run at all without bare claws to dig into the ground for grip? Maybe that’s why people ran so slow and funny.

  The girl stopped and lifted one of her shoes and wiggled it just as Karma skidded to a stop within nose-touch range.

  Karma tipped her head at the swiveling foot, and looked up at the girl’s face, seeking a clue. Karma knew the rules of the game. She had to guess what the girl wanted, and when she got it right, Lia would make a CLICK-sound with her mouth and give her a treat. Even better than the treat, guessing right made the girl smile and laugh. And that made Karma’s chest swell with a warm happy feeling. She wasn’t sure why, but she liked that. A lot.

  The girl extended the tip of the long target stick, and Karma focused on its movement. She’d learned to pay attention because it often gave clues about the game. When the tip came to rest on top of the girl’s elevated shoe, Karma stretched her neck forward until she nose-poked the foot. Immediately, she heard the CLICK mouth-noise that said she’d guessed right. Karma couldn’t help drooling, and smacked her lips after she gulped the treat without chewing.

  She looked from the girl’s smile, and back to the target stick, wagging her back end so hard she lost her balance. She liked this game. Touch the foot, get a treat. Easy.

  Next, Lia put her foot on the ground before tapping the shoe with the stick. Without hesitation, Karma bounced forward and nose-poked the shoe again, and stared up with her mouth ready even before the CLICK sounded. She chomped the treat, head swiveling to follow Lia’s next move.

  When the girl turned her back and trotted away, Karma gave chase. Her four paws overtook the girl, and this time she didn’t wait for the target stick to direct her action. Foot movement through the long grass mimicked prey and she pounced, grappling the girl’s ankle and mouthing the strings on the foot covers. The “click” mouth-sound came, just as the girl tumbled forward and rolled onto the ground.

  Karma released the girl’s foot and danced away. She’d never seen people fall over. How exciting! She bounced forward again, growling and yapping with excitement. When the girl moved the target stick back to the same shoe, Karma nose-poked the foot, but stood puzzled when no CLICK followed. She poked the shoe again. Nothing. One last nose poke, and then with frustration, Karma grabbed the shoestrings and tugged.

  CLICK!

  With delight, Karma took the treat. She returned to the shoestrings, grabbed, growled and tugged, even shook her head to subdue the shoe.

  CLICK! A whole handful of treats fell from the girl’s hand.

  She didn’t know where to sniff and gulp first. Snuffling through the grass to collect the bonus reward, Karma’s brain processed the game as the girl regained her feet and trotted to the other side of the yard to repeat the lesson. Karma abandoned the few treats left, because the excitement of the new game offered way more fun. Karma dashed after Lia, eyes focused on the girl’s moving feet. This time, she needed no prompting, and tackled the shoe, ferocious play growls and happy yelps filling the air. She wriggled with delight when the girl didn’t fall at once, instead tugging back and struggling to step forward. What fun, a tug game with chasing.

  “TRIP! What a good TRIP, good girl, Karma. TRIP! That’s it, TRIP!”


  Karma continued to grapple the girl’s foot, understanding few of the words but registering the percussive final word and the repetition. She wasn’t sure just yet and continued to test and refine what the girl wanted.

  She bit harder—it felt good to bite—so she adjusted her grip and tugged, too. When the girl fell forward, rolling onto her side, Karma let go and danced out of the way. But that garnered no CLICK sound. Lia stuck out her foot, shook it and repeated, “TRIP!” So Karma launched herself once more at the shoe, biting it, and even clasping and humping against the girl’s foot in the ultimate display of dominance.

  “Good TRIP, what a smart Karma, good-dog. So you like the TRIP-game? Good girl, Karma.” The girl laughed and pulled out a handful of treats, tossing several for Karma to find in the grass. While Karma collected the yummies, the girl adjusted the padding on her lower legs before standing and starting the game again.

  Each time they played, the girl changed something. Not much, just a little bit. Just enough so Karma had to think and figure out what was different. She watched, smelled, and listened to every detail, paying exquisite attention to the girl—what she did, what she said, and especially Lia’s facial expression. Every wrinkle of her brow, flare of nostril or quirk of Lia’s lips spoke to Karma. The treats didn’t matter as much as figuring out what the girl wanted.

  More than anything else, Karma wanted to please the girl. So much so, she only struggled a little and didn’t growl at all when Lia scooped her up in a hug to end the game.

  Chapter 4

  The muggy atmosphere and dark clouds turned the day claustrophobic. Lia unzipped her light windbreaker to relieve the feeling of constriction but left on her shin guards and leg pads even after she settled Karma and her littermates in their own kennel. The client might want a demo after the temperament test.

  She didn’t like the bizarre weather. Her phone alarms kept her updated on the storm’s progress and she still couldn’t believe the warnings. Most February weather brought ice storms that downed power lines and shattered creaky trees. At that thought, she eyeballed the nearby bois d’arc when the wind made the claw-limbs scrabble against the kennel’s tin roof. The nails-on-blackboard sound made her teeth ache. Luckily, her two Pit Bull boarders were used to the noise and remained silent. She’d inherited their owner Sunny Babcock from Abe’s clientele, but now the woman could afford to go somewhere else for luxury digs since landing a role on a reality TV show.

  The noise was an invitation the litter accepted. One puppy started, then the whole group raised the doggy alarm with each thump, scrape, or blustery breath of wind. She sighed.

  The building needed refurbishing she couldn’t afford without more paying clients. But unless she spiffed up the facilities, Corazon Kennels couldn’t attract the high-end boarders she needed. Chicken-and-egg syndrome.

  It all came down to the puppies. If Derek Williams approved of the Rottie litter’s progress, his recommendation could put her on the map—and clients like Sunny would come in droves.

  Derek’s parents ran in the same circles as Grammy and Grandfather, and they all came from old money. His folks bragged on him and indulged his hobby-du-jour while they groomed him to take over the family business.

  Lia had hoped her own family connections would bring referrals to her new venture. Instead, Grammy apologized for Lia, and got a pinched look like she’d stepped in something with any mention of the kennel.

  Whatever. She’d make a success of this, no matter what. She owed it to Abe to keep his legacy alive.

  A black extended cab truck appeared in the distance, bumping far too fast down the narrow road. Lia held her breath, fearing the driver would slide off into the rushing water on either side. Rain over the past two weeks had overflowed ditches, and there was more in the forecast. At least so far her kennel roof had passed the leak test. Replacing the roof would cost more than the property was worth.

  Lia stood with her hands on her hips as Derek arrived. She stood in the doorway of the main building that doubled as her office and apartment. His truck tossed mud against the office window when he skidded to a stop. He was late. But she couldn’t afford to piss him off, and besides, it wasn’t as if she had anything better to do.

  When Derek had dropped off Dolly and her litter of two-week-old pups after Christmas, Lia hadn’t yet closed on what was then called Pesquiera Board & Train. She’d grown close to Abe during high school and college while working at his kennel, and bought the business after he got an offer to go home and manage the cattle dogs in Waimea, Hawaii. But before he could return to his beloved Islands, Abe died from a sudden heart attack.

  The papers had been signed, but Abe’s death left a number of issues unresolved. Lia’s inherited clients had reservations for spring break vacation next month. But that income wouldn’t arrive for weeks, and the seasonal after-Christmas slump was a killer. Derek’s much needed fees would bridge the income gap.

  Today, Derek wore jeans with fashionable rips in all the right places, custom running shoes, and a silk tee shirt that outlined his muscles and exposed a full sleeve tattoo of some mythical beast. His outfit cost more than her ramshackle truck. A second man, someone she didn’t know and hadn’t been expecting, climbed more slowly out the passenger side.

  “You have everything set up?” Derek hooked a thumb at the older man. “I got a buyer interested, and some others long distance, so let’s get this started. I want out of here before the next wave of storms hit.”

  She nodded, conjured a tentative smile and offered her hand to shake. Derek ignored the gesture, brushing by to reach the office. Her shoulders tightened, but she followed without a word. Lia held open the door and waited for Derek’s guest to precede her into the tiny room.

  A large dog roused from his foam bed beside the desk. Lia stooped to stroke Thor’s neck. She showed him her palm with an emphatic gesture signaling him to stay and not move from his place.

  “That’s not a Rottweiler, Derek.” The older man hesitated, his double chins quivering with concern. “It looks sick.”

  Lia smiled. “Thor is a Bouvier. He’s not sick, he’s just old. He came with the kennel.” The old dog had belonged to Abe. How do you tell a dog his special human would never come home? Thor deserved a happy time during his golden years. “I’m Lia, by the way. And you are? . . .”

  “Samuel Cooper. Call me Coop.” He nodded, tugged his sweater vest down over his ample girth, and wiped the soles of his alligator boots on the doormat before stepping into the room proper. He sniffed the air. His lip curled.

  Lia hid a smile. Thor had always been gassy. It seemed to go with Bouviers.

  “Mr. Cooper owns a slew of car dealerships in Dallas.” Derek looked at Lia. “He needs some furry protection.”

  Derek planned to sell the puppies to him, untrained? Unprepared?

  Derek caught her expression. “You said it’d take years to properly train up a police dog. And I don’t have the time. Besides, not all will be a fit for K9 work. What am I supposed to do with the rest?”

  True enough. Temperament evaluations at eight weeks changed as puppies matured. Today’s test would be a better gauge of future potential. With Dolly’s sketchy personality, they’d be lucky if any of the nine pups made the grade.

  Lia hadn’t considered what would happen to those that washed out. Derek owned the dogs and made the decisions, even though he hadn’t a clue about breeding. Or training. She’d need more than boarding income to make a go of the business. Offering Derek basic puppy training classes could be the opportunity she needed. That could help build her reputation.

  Derek pulled the office door shut, glancing around the shabby room, and Lia could almost hear his thoughts. But never mind his opinion. Once Derek settled his account, Lia could pay the overdue insurance premium, with enough left over for office face lifting. She waved both men toward the interior door. “I’ve got everything set up for the temperament test through there, in the last run on your right.” She hurried to
open the door. “Derek, I put Dolly up in the first run with the pups across from her in a separate space, so she wouldn’t be a distraction.” She hadn’t expected this second temperament test to be a sales pitch, too. Derek hadn’t attended the first test; she’d just sent him the video results and her report. Her shoulders bunched, unsettled by the notion. She’d grown attached to the pups, especially Karma.

  “Coop, wait until you see the litter.” Derek grinned. “Nine weeks old and already game as hell. Exactly what you want for your, uhm,” his eyes cut to Lia and away, “your purposes.” He clapped the older man on the shoulder and continued to boast about the attributes of the puppies.

  Hiding her disquiet, Lia preceded the two men. She wondered why Derek even bothered. There wasn’t a lot of money to be made breeding dogs, not that he needed the income. Couldn’t be that he liked dogs. This was the first time he’d visited Dolly and her litter since dropping them off. On top of that, Dolly was at best a marginal example of the heroic Rottweiler breed.

  Descended from ancient Roman cattle dogs interbred with Swiss and German mastiffs, the versatile athletic breed excelled at everything from hunting bears and guarding cattle to pulling kiddie carts or sharing a beloved human’s pillow. Only the elite with the best temperament and physique were suited for the rigors of protection, military or police work. Poor Dolly didn’t come close. It had taken Lia weeks to earn the mother dog’s trust, and that told Lia volumes about Dolly’s short life. The bitch was just a year old, far too young for a litter. Lia didn’t want to know how Derek got so many pups out of her first litter. If Dolly was her dog...

  But then, Derek hadn’t asked for her opinion. And Dolly didn’t belong to her. Neither did the puppies. Based on the potential she’d seen in several of the pups, their sire must have been magnificent, though. Her fists clenched. If she handled this puppy temperament test the right way, she could do some good. Make things turn out better for the dogs. Still, she had a bad feeling.