by Amy Shojai
Karma’s mother protected and loved all of the pups but feared everything. The girl feared nothing and was all seeing, all knowing, even if scent blind and sound deaf compared to dogs.
Light flashed again across the sky and Karma flinched, and her hackles bristled. The girl would know what to do about the jagged lightning, the way she had taught Karma about the sky-noise. Maybe Lia brought the fleece toy with her, too.
Decision made, Karma whirled and hurried back uphill in the direction of the girl’s call. She didn’t think to backtrack the scent trail, just arched her neck and cocked her ears for Lia’s voice. She pranced forward, mouth parting with each anxious whine of anticipation. She jumped over a toppled tree branch and landed on a round limb that didn’t roll. It recoiled, whipped around, and tried to slither up Karma’s leg.
Screaming, Karma hopped backward, shaking her foreleg so hard she fell sideways in her frantic effort to shed the crawly creature. With dismay, she saw many of the slithering things, some with open mouths making hissing sounds. The hole in the ground left by the uprooted tree had filled with water, and out of it spilled more of the long, thin creatures. Some poked out strange ribbon-like tongues or wagged tails like an excited dog. They smelled like cucumber.
She scrambled to her feet, growled and feinted toward the closest one that coiled nearby. It struck at her, head splattering in mud when it missed.
Karma yelped and leaped away and banged sideways into the fallen tree trunk.
Lesson learned, she’d never again mistake it for a toy. Karma tried to dodge past, but the writhing copper-scaled things blocked her way. Now Karma couldn’t follow the scent trail to reach her mother. But neither could she backtrack to rejoin the girl.
Plodding footsteps approached and made Karma’s ears twitch, but she refused to look away from the writhing serpents. She preferred the soughing breeze in her face even if the cold made her ears numb. Her nose wrinkled, recognizing dog-scent—the old one the girl called Thor—along with clean Lia-smell. Karma wanted to cry out for help but stayed frozen. Motion would make the snakes strike at her again. She enjoyed bite-games with her siblings, but these creatures didn’t want to play.
Thor’s paw-sounds drew closer along with the girl’s footfalls. Thor must be seeking Karma just the way Karma had tracked Dolly and her siblings. For a moment, her chest swelled with pride that she’d done what Lia wanted, too. But the wet, slick ground made Lia slip and trample with lots of noise. The undulating coil of scaly creatures grew even more agitated, tongues flicked and tails twitched. The triangular coppery head of the nearest turned back upon itself, away from Karma for a moment, as if to target the old dog. Or maybe the girl.
Thor and Lia would tramp right over the creatures. If Karma yelped a warning, Lia would hurry even faster and blunder into the nest. Karma shuddered, imagining the multiple bites, the choking cucumber smell.
Thor was old, blind and deaf. The girl might as well be. Neither knew about the threat, but Karma knew. And Karma could smell, and hear and see, and run very fast with her four paws. She was brave, too, even when scared.
As Thor and the girl came into sight, snakes thrashed toward the vibration of their footfalls. Karma bounded forward and grabbed the twitching tail of the nearest copperhead.
Chapter 11
Most tracking dogs, including Thor, trained to find human scent. But Abe had always played “find it” games with Thor, hiding toys and other items to keep him engaged, and Lia continued the practice. Bouviers were not always dog friendly so she’d kept him away from the others, although he’d been aware of their presence. He’d been interested in the puppies’ socialization and she’d staged supervised interactions with the old Bouvier through the fence. She’d been surprised and then delighted when Thor became smitten with Dolly although the feeling wasn’t mutual.
Games of “where’s Dolly? Find Dolly! SUCH!” turned the old dog back into a youngster himself. Lia had to trust that the intelligent canine would generalize the command rather than be confused.
When Thor hesitated, hunching his black shoulders in confusion, rather than repeat the such command she jollied him along. “Want to play hide-and-seek? Thor, find Dolly!”
Thor’s shoulders came up with confidence, and his black nose dropped to the ground. Attention zoomed in on the fresh scent. Snout to mud, he nearly yanked Lia off her feet in his eagerness to follow the spoor. Hell, maybe he read her mind. Wouldn’t she love to have that connection? Whatever, she’d take it.
The dog dragged her through ragged mounds of winter rye that had volunteered in the scrubby pasture and weaved between scattered scrubby evergreens and cedar elm. Lia struggled to keep up, not wanting to slow the dog’s drive. She ducked under low hanging branches, swatting leafless limbs away from her face as they played thread-the-needle through the overgrowth. At one point, he stopped and cast back and forth for a moment. He barked twice, looked at her with milky cataract-covered eyes before swinging back to the trail and surging on.
In less than five minutes, the old black dog stopped near a stand of burr oak and barked several times as he plunked down in the mud, his signal of a find. “Good dog, Thor. Wait.” She shone her flashlight beneath the slight shelter. The glow of several pairs of eyes met the light.
Relief!
“Dolly? Hey there, good girl.” The Rottweiler bitch slicked her ears flat with submission and whined but didn’t move from her crouched position beneath the scrubby protection.
Lia pulled the short tether from her pocket as she continued to talk. “Scary stuff, having a tree fall on top of you. What a brave girl, protecting your babies.”
The dog whined again but kept her attention focused on Lia. So far, Dolly didn’t seem to mind Thor’s presence, but that could change in a heartbeat. She needed to get the tether on Dolly, and get the furry family back to safety. “I brought treats. Treats for Dolly. Want a treat?” She pitched her voice up an octave from her normal alto into a singsong lure.
Worry lines in the dog’s broad brow smoothed as she stood up, yawned wide, and shook herself, the action a physical reset of her emotions. Dolly licked her lips and her stub of a tail began to move when Lia pulled out another liver-treat and tossed it to the dog. Dolly caught the morsel and took a step closer. A muddle of puppies stirred around her legs, making it hard for the mother dog to move, but Lia kept the light steady with one hand, while she shook the treat bag with the other.
All reluctance gave way to the lure of the familiar. Dolly hurried to Lia and pressed against her, wanting the contact even more than the yummies. “Poor girl, you took care of your babies, didn’t you?” Lia offered the big dog another of the soft treats, and reconsidered attaching the extra lead she’d brought.
Dolly was so strong that the line wouldn’t hold her if she decided to bolt. After all, Rottweilers had been used in lieu of horses to pull carts, and Lia weighed far less than a cart. Fear trumped training every time, and Dolly’s whale eyed expression—rolling her eyes so the whites showed—shouted fear without saying a word. Another big thunderclap, and treats and the thin line wouldn’t be enough. Even if she could get Dolly back to the kennel, wrangling the pups would be as easy as herding cats.
Keep Dolly focused on the pups. Decision made: she’d carry one of them, so Dolly would stay close. And where Dolly went, the litter should follow. That way, she’d have an extra hand free for the tracking lead. Although Thor knew this area blindfolded, literally, and could find his way back to the kennel even without the lead. At the thought, she unhooked the tracking lead and stuffed it into her pocket before scooping “Mr. Yellow Collar” under one arm. Lia shook the treat baggie again. “Puppy-puppy-puppies! Come on, gang. Let’s go, Dolly.”
She showed Dolly the pup in her arms and headed off at a brisk confident pace as if Dolly would follow as a matter of course. Expectation made many things happen. She smiled when Dolly stayed glued to her side, while the gaggle of babies stumbled along to keep up.
She glanced back
once, and saw Thor still waiting for his release. “Thor, geh rein.” He bounded to his feet, and took off for home, no doubt expecting a whole bowl full of liver bits for tracking in the muck. Heck, with a name like Thor, you’d think he’d love storms, but he’d always been indifferent to them.
The old boy stood huffing and pawing the office door when she arrived out of breath to let him slip inside. Lia hurried with her puppy burden and canine entourage to one of the still intact kennels.
“Good girl, Dolly, want your puppy?” Mr. Yellow yawned in her arms, ready for a nap. The entire bedraggled bunch acted exhausted. Short puppy size legs had to run twice as fast as Dolly to keep up.
When Lia opened the fresh kennel and swung open the chain link door, Dolly bounded inside and raced to a waiting water bowl. The puppies followed her, exhausted into silence. The entire crew needed a bath. That would have to wait. She still needed to round up the missing Pit Bull pair. Lia doubted they’d follow as readily as the frightened mom-dog and pups, so she needed transportation handy once she found them.
Her truck sat dimpled from hood-to-fender with dings and dents from the hail, but at least the storm spared the glass. Two inches of ice balls filled the truck bed, so she levered open the passenger door and boosted Thor inside. A pair of crates in the truck bed would house Buster and Beau once she found them. And by heavens, she’d find them. Lia shuddered, anticipating Sunny Babcock’s reaction to losing her prize hog dogs.
Something niggled, though. She checked on Dolly and her brood one last time before heading back into the storm. As the exhausted youngsters settled into a messy pile around their mother, Lia counted puppy heads, and came up one short.
Maybe she’d miscounted. The pups in the dim light looked alike, and the color-coding around each furry neck could be muted by mud. Dolly struggled to get comfortable while a few of the pups tried to nurse. They were weaned, but Dolly was too tired to push them away, and like all babies, they wanted the comfort of snuggling close.
Lia counted again but before she finished, she guessed which one was missing. She tried to swallow past the sudden lump in her throat. She wasn’t surprised. The stubborn, courageous attitude necessary for great police dogs might instead get the missing dog-child killed.
The truck roared to life, and Lia drove back to the area she’d found Dolly. Within seconds, her headlights revealed Beau and Buster. They’d had enough of the storm and leaped into the back of the truck with little prompting. She prayed her luck held, and Karma would appear just as quickly.
Chapter 12
Karma backpedaled with a squeal to escape the writhing mass of snakes. She still clutched one hissing creature between her teeth, and paused to shake it hard, the same way she shook the tug-toy during games. She shook it again, growling around the mass in her mouth, and took satisfaction in the whip-cracking action until the snake stopped moving. She trembled, not wanting to release the prize and have it slither and chase her. Her heart thu-thumped even harder when the cucumber smell combined with the rusty taste of the snake’s blood. After one final shake, she let go and the ropy length fell limp from her jaws. She licked her mouth, wrinkling her nose and showing her teeth at the taste while she tracked the grassy twitches and shudders that revealed the reptilian progress of the others.
“Karma! Puppy-puppy-puppy, COME, where are you?”
The girl’s voice rose above the freshening wind, and Karma’s head jerked high. Her silent snarls gave way to soft mewls and whines she couldn’t suppress, even when she clamped her jaws tight to mute the sound. Crying showed fear, fear that made littermates bite harder. Karma didn’t want the snakes to bite so Karma acted brave, she stood tall with her shoulders squared to challenge the threat.
But her ears kept slicking back, and the stub of her tail snugged tight to her bottom, hiding her unique scent the way people covered their faces. She yearned to be far, far away from this wet, strange dark world with scaly smelly creatures. Karma yawned. She wanted her mother, would even welcome the girl’s arms. She would be brave another day.
“Karma!”
Lifting her blunt muzzle to the sky, Karma called back with a high-pitched warbling howl.
“Good puppy! I’m coming!” Sodden footfalls drew closer, with scrubby branches crashing and switching as the distant figure plowed through the dense vegetation.
She wanted to race to meet Lia. Karma’s paws danced forward of their own volition, but stopped short at the sea of snakes that still thrashed in the grass, massing between her and the path. One of the resting creatures, coiled like a leash, sprang forward. Karma spun, crashed through drenched brush, away, away, racing to put many dog-lengths between herself and the snakes, deaf to the strange gushing water sound that grew louder as she drew near.
“Karma! Oh no, Karma wait!”
A snake fell out of the sky and looped around Karma’s throat. She screamed, rolled and kicked hard to escape its constriction, and the mushy ground fell away. She slalomed on a raft of mud, bumping and thumping to pinball off trees and rocks, yelping with each blow as the leather snake’s tail—a very long one—slithered and chased in her wake. She forgot to be brave and keened a nonstop siren until the sluice pitched her off the collapsed roadway into the air for half a puppy breath. Karma plunged into the rush of a newborn river, and sank beneath the surface.
Water filled Karma’s mouth and slammed her into a broken tree before pulling her back under. The flood tumbled her paws over tail. She clawed and churned muddy sludge to foam until she splashed her way to the surface, gasping for breath.
Motion caught Karma’s attention. A small figure chased after, yelling Karma’s name over and over.
The girl! Karma thrashed and cried, but the voracious water refused to let her go.
The girl slid to her knees into the deluge, but managed to grab a tree branch and claw her way up out of the flood. She raced the twisty path beside the water and soon was ahead of Karma. “Hang on, hang on, baby-dog.” Lia grabbed a nearby limb, and shoved the length out across the surface of the water.
Karma’s splashing reached the tip of the branch before the flood yanked it out of the girl’s grasp and floated it away. Karma followed, barely paddling now, and reserving all her strength just to grab quick breaths. With a final courageous effort, Karma flailed with all four paws and lunged toward a pile of floating debris. She missed.
The water chortled and swept her away.
The snake tightened around her neck, and Karma whimpered and shut her eyes. Sometimes a good-dog couldn’t hide her fear . . .
Hot breath warmed her neck when Karma bumped up against the detritus. She never questioned how or why her muzzle suddenly rose above the water, just took grateful gulps of cold night air. She recognized the familiar feel of gentle teeth grasping her neck. Karma relaxed against the fur of a strange black shepherd that held her safe above the flood.
Chapter 13
Lia managed to toss the old lariat over Karma’s head before the pup slid into the ditch runoff-turned-torrent. It jerked out of her hands, rope burning her palms when something launched the pup into renewed flight and panic tumbled her into the current. The rope snaked along the bank and moon-glow allowed Lia to track the wailing pup’s progress. The thrice-damned flood’s velocity had doubled and out-raced anything with two legs. Lia twice tried and failed to tackle the slithering rope.
Lia tackled the trailing lasso a third time and yelled when she managed to grasp it. The movement of the water slowed and Lia took the momentary advantage to gather the slack, looping it around her elbow and palm. She had to be careful not to choke the pup. But she had to get her out as quickly as possible. Karma had stopped crying, and she prayed the puppy still lived.
Lia carefully towed the pup toward the bank. Her brow furrowed at unexpected resistance. The dog-child was just four months old, she shouldn’t be that heavy. If Karma was hooked on something, pulling could cause more injury than the cold.
“Karma, you there?” Her heart clenche
d at the thought of losing the pup. She began to breathe again when the resistance gave way. Twenty seconds lasted a lifetime before the Rottie pup blinked owlishly up at her from the water, finally within reach. Reaching down, careful not to slip into the water again herself, Lia grabbed the purple collar and leather lariat and lifted, but it remained caught on the black mound of debris. She started when the rubbish moved.
Brown eyes blinked, and white fangs gleamed. A black dog’s teeth hooked through the opposite side of Karma’s collar.
The puppy twisted, wriggled and whined, and licked the big dog’s face. The German Shepherd closed his eyes with a whimper of painful resignation as Karma bathed his sore, battered muzzle where dark blood welled.
He looked like a warrior, a courageous koa fighting the storm. He’d risked his own life to save Karma.
She held out her hand to the injured dog, not wanting to spook him. How long had he been in the frigid water? He’d survived both the tornado and the flash flood—amazing. His lips and gums were pale, but his shiver reflex remained intact. Good. Once shivers stopped, it’d be hard to bring him back. Karma would die, too, if the shepherd refused to let go.
“Aus.” She tried the German Schutzhund command first. The dog just blinked, so she tried again. “Drop it.” Lia spoke with quiet authority, and was heartened when the black shepherd released. His training and discipline had aided his survival and prevented panic that might have killed him. She could see that his paws touched the bottom of the ditch, but he was so weak he couldn’t stand for long. And he certainly couldn’t climb out without help. She had to hurry.
She dragged Karma out of the water, shrugged off her jacket and rolled her into a puppy burrito. For once, the recalcitrant pup settled without a struggle, wrung out from her ordeal. Or maybe Karma also realized time was running short for the Samaritan dog. His wet fur turned him into a shadowy wraith, but Lia didn’t question the shepherd’s intent. True warriors, no matter the species, acted brave and generous.