Part 6 (1/2)

On one such day, Thor got what he thought was a brilliant idea. His bowl was next to the clothes dryer in an alcove off the kitchen. Thor pushed the boring dry food out of his bowl with his nose and shoved it under the dryer. Then he pranced into the kitchen, where the Pack was finis.h.i.+ng its dinner.

It was a good plan, but there was one little problem: Thor's conscience. As he entered the kitchen, he couldn't pull his wagging tail up from between his legs. His ears refused to unflatten from his head, and his neck refused to hold his head high. He was a lousy liar.

As soon as Dad saw him, he knew something was up. Thor might as well have worn a neon sign saying, BAD DOG!

When Dad discovered what he'd done, he tried to be mad, but he was no better at acting angry than Thor was at acting innocent. He said all the right angry, scolding words, but laughter kept bursting out of him, completely spoiling the effect. Thor got off easy.

So he tried the trick a few more times. He got a little better at concealing his guilt, but never good enough to commit the perfect crime. Besides, after the first time (unknown to Thor), the Pack had learned to listen for the telltale sc.r.a.ping and rattling sounds he made as he nosed the kibbles onto the floor. He eventually gave up on the idea.

From then on, when the Pack fed him dry food by itself, he rebelled by refusing to eat it. At all. No matter how many treats were offered.

That strategy, although harder on Thor, worked better. The Pack's performance in the area of cuisine improved greatly.

Now, he knew, he'd have to eat his food before he got samples of Uncle Ted's cooking, but he didn't mind. The food was canned (they didn't bother lugging dry food along on trips), and Uncle Ted was a soft touch. Thor always gorged himself on treats at Uncle Ted's house.

Teddy opened a can of dog food and dumped it unceremoniously into Thor's bowl on the kitchen counter. He was about to put it on the floor when Dad stopped him.

”Teddy!” Dad said with a trace of annoyance. ”Will you break that up, please?” Teddy had let the food stand in the bowl in a solid cylindrical ma.s.s, as if it had been squeezed out of a giant ChapStick.

Teddy had begun to resent his share of the doggy ch.o.r.es, and he'd been making a point of doing things in the most perfunctory manner possible. Unfortunately for Teddy, he almost always got caught in the act and had to do everything over until it was done right. He only succeeded in making trouble for himself, but he always seemed to blame his problems on Thor.

Teddy made a big show of wearily lifting the bowl back onto the counter. He broke the food up into large chunks and gave the bowl a little contemptuous toss as he dropped it on the floor. Thor did his best to ignore Teddy's nonsense.

Surrounded by the Pack with his nose in his dish and his mouth full of beef and beef by-products, Thor didn't much care about anything. Not Teddy's att.i.tude nor the required meal before snacks. The food was his food, afer all, and his exclusive owners.h.i.+p of it compensated for its comparative lack of flavor.

No one else ate his food. The thought that the Pack might consider it beneath them never entered his mind. His bowl, his food. No one else's. A place for everyone, and everyone in their place. Very rea.s.suring. He ate heartily and felt good.

When he finished, he walked casually to the kitchen table without once looking at it or anyone who sat there. He sat on the floor a few feet from the table, facing slightly away from the Pack, looking straight ahead at nothing. It was his way of making his presence known without being rude.

Uncle Ted and the Pack weren't even close to being finished (naturally). Dad told Thor to back off, but Thor knew better. He'd played out this scenario many times. He was within his rights.

”Oh, it's okay,” Uncle Ted said, warming to the task at hand: Spoil the dog. ”Here ya go!” he said, tossing a sliver of cooked meat in Thor's direction. Thor hadn't glanced toward the table the whole time, but his peripheral vision was precise. His head snapped around instantly and plucked the meat out of the air as if he'd been watching Uncle Ted's hands the whole time. He moved so fast that the motion was almost invisible - his head seemed to be in one place one moment, then another the next. If a small dog had done it, it would have been impressive. But to see a dog of Thor's size and power move with such speed was absolutely awesome, even to the Pack. Thor was good, d.a.m.n good, and watching him at his best was a little like watching a champion gymnast - no matter how many times you saw it, you could never quite believe your eyes.

Uncle Ted leaned over Thor with another piece of meat in his hand, not intending to throw this one.

”Here ya go,” he repeated in a more subdued voice, expecting Thor to come over for it. Thor looked worriedly at Dad, who frowned and said, ”Go ahead.” Thor stretched his neck to reach the treat without moving from his polite seated position, and took the meat from Uncle Ted's hand with consummate delicacy.

But he felt tension in Uncle Ted's bearing. The man's manner somehow reminded Thor of his own failed attempts at subterfuge. Uncle Ted offered Thor the treat the way a Bad man might - to establish a false friends.h.i.+p, to get Thor to drop his guard, to make Thor forget his Duty.

Thor boldly looked straight at Uncle Ted's face, ready to look away immediately when Uncle Ted returned his gaze, but to his surprise, Uncle Ted didn't look back. He certainly saw Thor staring at him, and each time he looked in Thor's direction Thor began to turn his head away, but Uncle Ted never looked directly at Thor. Not even for an instant. Thor found the experience strangely disorienting.

To look someone in the eye is a statement of position. Thor looked at the kids eye-to-eye all the time; he outranked them. But for Thor to lock eyes with Dad would be a challenge to Dad's leaders.h.i.+p. Thor could never conceive of doing such a thing.

Uncle Ted, on the other hand, wasn't a Pack member, but he was a Pack insider, and in a strange way, he both did and did not outrank Thor. Their relations.h.i.+p seemed to work itself out on a case-by-case, moment-to-moment basis. But Thor's immediate behavior was so challenging that it could only be regarded as insubordination, regardless of their unclear relations.h.i.+p.

And yet Uncle Ted refused to exercise his authority and put a stop to Thor's rudeness by looking back at him.

In a flash of recognition, Thor realized Uncle Ted was behaving just like a Bad Dog.

And he was avoiding Thor's gaze, as if Thor were a human and Uncle Ted were a dog.

Suddenly the room turned upside down. Everything stayed in place, but Thor felt it, the world was upside down, the ceiling was below him and he would fall into it at any moment. He tried to dig his claws into the slippery hardwood floor, and an involuntary whimper escaped his throat. Panic raced through his mind for an instant - then the bubble burst, and the room was right side up again.

Throughout the whole disconcerting experience, Thor never took his eyes off Uncle Ted's, and Uncle Ted never looked back. A convulsive s.h.i.+ver ran through Thor's body.

He made a decision: He would stay close to Uncle Ted for the rest of the visit, never leaving him alone with any Pack member.

And for the first time ever, he would be glad when the visit was over.

Chapter 6.

Thor lay on the living room floor like a sphinx - head erect, paws straight ahead, still as a statue, waiting for the attack. Only his eyes followed the movements of the pure white ball of fur crouched on the rug about two feet from his head.

The kitten's eyes were locked on Thor's, her face a mask of psychotic concentration. Her body squirmed with barely controlled energy. Any second now, she would fling herself at Thor's head. If her attack was successful, she would wrap her legs around his face and cover his forehead with sharp, frenzied play-bites.

A pa.s.serby, unfamiliar with the two animals, would probably wonder what the dog had done to the tiny kitten to produce such pa.s.sionate hatred, such a l.u.s.t for revenge. In fact, he'd done nothing more than what he was doing - lying on the floor, providing a tempting target for her to attack. That alone was more than enough to drive the kitten over the edge.

The kitten had only been with the Pack a few months, about as long as she'd been alive. Where she came from and how she joined the Pack had been intriguing mysteries at first, but Thor had long since forgotten the riddle of her origin. She was Pack now, and nothing else was really important.

Their game had evolved quickly once they'd established mutual trust. Thor had tried chasing her (the most basic kind of dog play), but without success. When he chased her in the open, he ran right over her in one or two strides, and when he chased her in the house, she scrambled under the nearest furniture and the chase was over. And Thor could see that she didn't like being chased.

But she liked to play, and she understood that Thor was trying to play with her, so she played with him on her terms, ambus.h.i.+ng him from behind the furniture. Thor loved it. He walked through the house slowly, stopping right in front of her hiding places, looking the other way and pretending not to know she was there. His invitations to attack were so obvious that she eventually got up the nerve to walk right up to him on the open floor and jump at his face, which was slightly bigger than her body.

To make it a fair fight, Thor opted to lie on the floor and not use his paws. It wasn't as much fun as chasing or being chased, but it was better than nothing. A lot better.

So he lay in wait, paws on the floor, while the kitten's energy reached the boiling point.

Thor vaguely understood that Kitty was Debbie's pet. It was always Debbie, and never Mom or Dad, who carried her around and petted her and fed her (with a little help from her brothers). Thor was a little unsure how a small child like Debbie could have her own animal, but it wasn't important. What was important was that Kitty's presence in the Pack had (thankfully) not affected Thor's status in any way, so there was no reason why they shouldn't get along.

He accepted her as part of the Pack, and they got along fine. If necessary, he would defend her to the death, as he would any Pack member.

Kitty tried to back a little deeper into her crouch, but there was nowhere left to go. She was already pressed flat against the carpeted floor, ready to catapult herself to the dog's face. Her ears flattened against her head and the intensity in her eyes reached pure madness. Whatever Kitty saw in front of her existed only in her blown-out imagination. Her body trembled as her tense muscles waited for the right moment, the moment when the dog would be most vulnerable.

Thor taunted her by tilting his head down until his nose touched the carpet, holding it vertical, like the cat's scratching post. A perfect landing pad for a flying kitty.

Come get me.

He peered up at the cat without lifting his face, like a schoolmarm looking over her reading gla.s.ses.

His mockery worked. The cat exploded.

She flew at Thor's head, covering the distance between them in an instant. Somehow during her short flight she managed to bring her legs forward, to wrap them around Thor's skull.

But Thor outmaneuvered her. The moment the furry white ball left the carpet, Thor jerked his face up in a sudden sweeping motion, so it was horizontal when Kitty reached it. He continued the upward sweep as her legs touched his face, and flung her over his shoulder and onto the carpet behind him.