by Amy Shojai
That’s a 1, for sure.
Karma’s scores offered an average score of 3 that spoke to willingness to follow a human leader. The 2s and a few 1s indicated independence and tendency toward dominance, not a bad mix for a future police dog. As Lia expected, Karma tested the best out of all nine puppies, and should win a spot for police dog training. Schutzhund, here you come.
“That’s it, we’re done.” Derek scooped up Karma, allowing her to hang on to the sheepskin lure, and waved at Cooper to join them. He traded the puppy for Lia’s clipboard with the test results. “We can review the scores but I think there are a couple that meet your criteria.”
Coop nodded, his grin wide. “Don’t need the scores.” He reached for Karma.
Chapter 7
Karma bit down on the sheepskin lure, braced herself in Lia’s arms, and shook it with a ferocious snarl, all the while wagging furiously. Her gums itched and ached and chewing relieved the discomfort even when they bled. The salty taste and copper-bright smell of her own blood made Karma drool.
When she shook the toy, the soft material flapped and slapped against her muzzle with a satisfying sound. But chasing and pouncing, biting and killing the thing on the ground was the best game of all. Karma wished Lia would put her down and make the toy move through the soggy grass.
She only stopped growling and shaking the toy when Lia’s arms tightened at the sound of the two men’s voices. Karma would have objected to the hug, but the girl’s scent changed from unease to something else. Karma knew that meant something but wasn’t sure what. She’d have to figure that out herself.
“I want this one, with the purple collar, and the first boy pup we tested. Green collar, I think.” The strange man reached out to Karma and she stretched her neck to sniff his hand, wrinkling her rust-color muzzle. She looked at Lia’s face for an explanation when the girl flinched and pulled her away. Karma growled to cover her own confusion and shook the toy again in a doggy shrug. She smelled no treats on the man and saw no toy. So he didn’t matter. Lia grabbed the other end of the toy, and Karma wrestled back with delight.
The people kept talking, a mishmash of sound with no important words Karma understood. Then Lia adjusted her grasp, hugging Karma so hard she yelped and struggled. The girl’s arms quivered. That caught Karma’s attention.
When she’d first arrived here with her dam and littermates, Lia had been a scary unknown. Dolly’s behavior told the litter that all strangers were scary. Puppies learned best from mom-dogs, so at first Karma copied Dolly’s behavior.
But with each good-dog, with each treat, with each new game, Karma became convinced Lia was a very-good-thing. She trusted Lia to keep her safe. Not that Karma ever acted afraid, oh no. She would never be a shivery dog like her mother. A good-dog stayed brave and confident even when faced with something scary-new. And Karma wanted to be a good-dog for Lia, and for herself. Karma sensed she and Lia were alike even if the girl had only two feet and no fur. Lia also acted ready and eager to face down any threat, to protect what mattered most.
Karma hadn’t figured out what mattered most to her. Not yet. But she was working on it. It had something to do with Lia.
The girl’s shaking concerned Karma. Dolly shook when she got scared—she got scared a lot. But Lia had never trembled before. If the girl was scared, should a good-dog be uneasy, too? Not scared (she was brave, after all!) but concerned?
Karma matched the sharp acrid change of Lia’s scent to the girl’s body signals: wide eyes, quickened breath, lip licking, and turning away from the two much bigger men. She’d remember what this meant. Nobody told her to, she just did it. Karma was smart that way. But she never realized people, especially all-knowing ones like Lia, could be scared. She guessed they acted that way because people couldn’t whine and bark, or show their teeth the way dogs could.
The adult dogs inside the kennel howled back at a weird ululating sound that rose and fell on the wind. When the sky boomed again, Karma dropped the toy and looked up.
Lia looked at the sky, too. “Hey, that was a loud one, wasn’t it? Boom-treat, that was a fun one. Want a boom-treat?” Lia set Karma down, and made the fleece jump and bounce across the grass.
Delighted, Karma forgot about the sky noise and chased after the toy. It stopped moving and she grappled the toy, growling and shaking it. The thunder echoed again, and the toy skittered and danced. What fun! Sky noise wasn’t scary after all, not when it made chase games happen. She’d remember this, too.
“Lia, quit playing with the puppy, so Coop and I can make our deal.” The sharp voice stopped the fun and Karma bristled.
Lia’s reply was pre-empted when a bright stabbing light unraveled across the sky at the same time as the crackling sky-noise. Karma waited for Lia to make the toy move again, but instead Lia grabbed her up and ran back to the building where the other dogs howled. She shouted over her shoulder. “Join me, or don’t. Just get the hell out of the storm.”
Karma saw the two men hesitate. Even over the sky-noise she heard their conversation, but the words made no sense.
“I can collect the pups tomorrow. I got the big show tonight.” The men grinned and ran to the hulking truck.
Lia’s tense shoulders relaxed as soon as the truck drove way. She hugged Karma even harder—dog language for “I’m in control.”
But for once, Karma didn’t mind someone else being in control. She signaled her deference with an extra-juicy tongue-swipe across the girl’s face.
Chapter 8
Lia crouched beneath the solid walnut desk, huddled next to Thor in her office. Thor remained silent because he couldn’t hear much anymore, but the dogs in the kennels answered the machinegun rattle of hail on the metal roof with barks, howls and yelps. Lia flinched at each thud, pop and crash as tiny ice balls grew to golf-ball proportions and assaulted the building with window-smashing, roof-buckling gusto.
She checked her cell phone for weather updates, but had no connection. The dogs yodeled, hail hammered, and then an invisible switch shut off the celestial icemaker. Lia blew out a breath and poked her head out from under the desk. The lights flickered back on, and the dogs’ frightened yelps subsided. She wanted to cheer that the ceiling appeared intact, but didn’t want to get the dogs started again.
She crawled from under the desk and paused to help Thor’s arthritic legs gain traction on the slick linoleum. A change of flooring was on her wish list. The Bouvier shook himself, regained his balance, and then headed for his memory foam dog bed. Thor might be blind but his nosy navigation skills hadn’t dimmed, especially when it meant finding favorite sleep, dinner, and pee spots.
A crash followed by a dog’s scream made her leap to her feet. The lights went out. She switched on the flashlight and staggered through the crowded office to the kennel hallway. She levered open the door and speared the light around the narrow length of the interior before wind and wet drenched her face. The bois d’arc tree had crushed two of the exterior kennel walls and outside fence.
***
A limb thicker than her body stabbed into the kennel. Karma yelped, crouched and froze. The tree had torn a jagged hole overhead and rain poured through to lash Karma’s black fur. This wasn’t distant sky-booms and cloud-fire flashes. The sky threw trees at good-dogs!
Karma crouched alone in the cold, wet kennel, shivering. Her mother had dived out the hole in the wall to follow her puppies when they scrambled away from the clawing tree. Out beyond the damaged wall, in the black wet night, Dolly’s deep frantic barks beckoned. Before she could help herself, Karma squeezed shut her eyes and allowed whimpers to climb to repeated wails. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so brave. She wanted Lia’s soothing voice to explain how falling trees could be fun games.
But Lia didn’t answer and Karma fell silent. She had to be brave all by herself, without Lia’s help. Maybe that’s what she was supposed to do.
She stretched her neck so her quivering nose touched the limb, and leaped back when it shifted toward her and
slapped the ground. Karma yelped, and her lips lifted to bare fangs against the invisible threat. She was young, but smart. It only took one time to learn the lesson: booming skies and crackling fire clouds meant trees clawed and jabbed at good-dogs. Beware!
Karma’s paws shook but Lia didn’t come. She could hear Dolly keening outside in the storm. Dolly was always scared, but she’d bravely gone into the night after her puppies. Maybe being scared wasn’t a bad thing, if a dog could still be brave.
She tucked her stubby tail tight, surprised that it somehow helped. She moved closer to the hole in the wall, and in a rush, pushed past the broken blocks. Karma took a big breath and released a flurry of barks mixed with snarls as she scurried through the breach after her mother.
Once she stood in the yard, she recognized the place they’d played the fun chase-the-fleece-toy games a short time before. Her hackles smoothed, and her ears lifted. Ferocious snarls must have scared away the tree-throwing monster. Karma’s stubby black tail lifted higher with interest. Another lesson learned. Dolly’s barks sounded again and Karma cocked her head and trotted a few steps in that direction until they stopped. She paused, too, and squinted against the wind that panted like an old sick dog, but she couldn’t unravel the tangled thread of scents riding the storm’s breath.
A pair of muscular dogs, broad as they were tall, squirmed out of the kennel next to her. Karma flinched away, then squatted and peed to signal “no threat.” But the Pit Bulls ignored her, their wide faces set in a permanent grin when one play-bowed toward the other inviting a game of tag. The pair dashed toward the nearby chain link fence, scrambled up onto the massive tree trunk, and leaped to freedom before Karma could untuck her tail.
Maybe they knew where Dolly went? Karma lifted her muzzle and barked a question and then ran to follow.
She put front paws up on the massive tree trunk and barked again. Small furry creatures that scurried traveled trees the way dogs padded grass pathways. Karma had never imagined dogs might also climb trees. She leaped and clawed for purchase but couldn’t gain a toe hold to pull herself up and over. The two dogs had already disappeared beyond the fence, following the same scent trail her mother had left behind.
Sniffing deeper, she learned more. Karma put her nose to the spot to find her mother’s signature odor. Yes, her siblings had passed this way, but she was the biggest of the litter. If she couldn’t scramble up and over the tree, neither could they.
Clouds broke apart and she flinched at the sudden moon shine. At the same time, the rain slowed and then stopped dripping. The round light in the sky tickled a spot at the back of her throat that wanted to howl homage, but Karma resisted. Instead, she examined the illuminated yard where here and there a well chewed but sopping toy offered temptations. No puppies, no dam, and nowhere to hide.
Of its own volition, Karma’s nose hit the ground once more. She found a pool of airborne scent caught in the sheltering lee of the massive tree trunk. Her stubby tail wiggled as fast as her nose wrinkled. Here...and here again. And stronger there.
Karma followed her first trail, tracking her littermates through the fence opening hidden by the tree’s crushing weight. Quickly she wiggled through, shook off the mud, and trotted away from the damaged kennel into the woods beyond.
Chapter 9
Lia stared at the rubble for an endless moment before rushing to check the status of the dogs. She’d moved them to the runs away from overhanging bois d’arc, and closest to the solid office wall, but the storm didn’t read any rulebook. The massive tree had been uprooted and moved to smash through the flimsy barrier that separated the indoor from outdoor fenced exercise yard.
The wire gate on the first pen screeched against the cement floor when dragged open. Lia raked the flashlight beam over the area, expecting to see Dolly cowering in a corner with her pups. But it was empty, except for the splintered orange trunk. Bois d’arc, also called ironwood, was so hard it destroyed chainsaw blades, and that told her something of the tornado’s force.
From the next kennel over, a Pit Bull walked the tree trunk like a balance beam to reach the fence and vaulted out, following his buddy. Damn!
“Beau! Buster, come!” She was so upset, the cry came out half voice. “Dolly, where are you? Hey puppies! Puppy-puppy-puppy!” She grabbed one of the stainless-steel food bowls and banged it several times against the cement floor, hoping the sound would carry and lure at least some of the dogs back. The adults knew her, but not well enough for a solid recall, and the puppies were—well, they were babies.
Lightning scratched across the sky a final time and Lia hunched her shoulders in anticipation of the thunder crack, but the storm had moved on and taken the noise with it. Dark clouds split to reveal moon glow that painted the dripping landscape silver and white. She hoisted herself onto the tree trunk, hoping the dogs at least remained inside the yard’s fenced boundary.
Hummocks of brown Bermuda grass and winter rye poked through icy drifts of hail but offered no hiding spots. The tree had crushed part of the chain link fence and created an obvious escape route for frightened dogs. She’d start there and pray they hadn’t strayed too far.
She hopped off the tree, grateful the rest of the runs looked secure. The roof would need work, hopefully she could make do with buckets to catch leaks until able to fund repairs. A building could be repaired. Losing the dogs wasn’t fixable. That black mark would follow Lia like a tag-along stray, not to mention the indelible scar it would leave on her heart. She was responsible for their safety.
At least Thor was safe. And his nose still worked.
The old towel the pups used for tug games would serve. She looped it over her neck. Lia stuffed an extra tether into her pocket and grabbed Thor’s tracking harness and leash from the wall on her way back to the office. Despite being blind, the Bouvier still tracked like a champ.
Lia rummaged in the mini-fridge for a baggy of pungent liverwurst, and Thor rose from his half doze, licking his jowls. She suspected his deafness was more selective hearing, since the old dog never seemed to miss the sound of the fridge opening. The treats—bribes in this case—would lure the other dogs, but she couldn’t refuse offering one to Thor. As he munched, she quickly put on his gear, and then her own. It might be dicey using the Bouvier to find Dolly. The bitch’s instinct to keep strange dogs away from her litter might backfire, but Lia had no other option and little time to waste. The longer they stayed out, the greater the chance of losing one or more of the pups to coyotes, accident or weather. The freaky February warmth had dropped back to normal with the passing of the storm, and cold could cause hypothermia in young pups.
At the last minute, she grabbed the old lariat, and slung that over her shoulders, too. Better to be prepared.
Thor pulled against the line, always ready for a tracking exercise. The ground squished beneath their feet. She ran the old dog around the perimeter of the fence to where the bois d’arc traversed the metal barrier. Lia offered him the puppies’ tug-towel, let him whiff deeply and thoroughly. She took a breath, squared her shoulders—act with confidence no matter what—and gave the command, a German word— Schutzhund training often used German words—for search. “Thor, such.”
Chapter 10
Karma raced after her mother’s spoor. Even with the wind that stirred and scattered the scent like stuffing from a chew toy, the trail shined brighter than moon glow to her discerning nose. She remembered the search games the girl played, hiding trails of kibble with a bonus cache of treats at the end. If she could find treats by following that smell, she’d find Dolly, too. She smothered a whimper. She didn’t like being alone. Dogs were meant to be with family, not by themselves. Finding her littermates and dam would be better than a treat.
She had to concentrate to unravel the skein of distracting scents like bugs and grass and even sounds beneath the sod and focus on the important treat-smell. And sometimes smells disappeared and only re-appeared if she ran ever widening circles to find where they’d hidden.
Karma learned to relocate hidden scent by seeking out low spots where smells settled and pooled the way water followed the earth’s surface.
The recent rain had washed the ground so that little else offered distraction from the recent passage of her littermates and dam. She loped along, ducking under leafless saplings that whipped and stung her hide as she passed. The trail led downhill, toward the shushing of water that grew louder and louder. Karma didn’t let that distract her, though. She kept her nose close to the ground to catch every whiff. Snuffling through the mounds of white ice balls made Karma’s nose sting. She liked to nudge them and watch them roll away. She batted one with her rust colored paw, and she bounded after when it bounced ahead.
“Puppy-puppy-puppy!”
Karma’s head shot up. The girl! Calling for her!
She whirled, staring back the way she’d come. Her stubby tail wiggled and her cautious stance softened. She could almost feel Lia’s small, soothing hands stroking her body, and scratching all her hard-to-reach itchy places. She whined, licked her nose, and glanced back and forth between the girl and her mother’s beckoning scent that led the opposite direction.
People could do amazing things her frightened mother could not. Lia made treats rain from the ceiling, provided tug-tag games and toys for good-dogs to chase, and even turned night into day when inside a building. And humans made cars go fast-fast-fast, even faster than a big dog could run. Karma and the other puppies liked car rides a lot, but not the poking and fussy handling by the white-coated man that Lia called a doctor. The view and smells through car windows made up for it, though, and Karma’s heart race. It never rained or grew cold inside cars or the houses. Well, not until someone threw a tree at Karma’s sleep spot.