Part 10 (1/2)

”Look, I hate to admit it,” Dad said, ”but your mother's right. He thought he was protecting us, and that's what we bought him for, so maybe we should all lighten up a little.”

Mom looked open-mouthed at Dad.

”What do you mean, 'I hate to admit it, but your mother's right'?” she demanded.

”That's not what I meant,” Dad said wearily. ”I meant I hate to admit we should lay off the dog. Okay?”

”I'm sorry,” Mom said, realizing she was just possibly a little cranky herself. Like Thor, she'd been unable to sleep, even after things had calmed down. She'd lain awake in bed for what seemed like hours, waiting for the sound of an intruder, or Thor barking at one.

”You see the trouble you caused,” Dad said, looking at Thor. He laughed ruefully in spite of himself and said, ”C'mere, stupid.”

His tone of voice, his posture and his face all said: You're forgiven.

Thor scrambled awkwardly to his feet on the slick tile floor and trotted over to Dad's outstretched hand. He planted a wet kiss on Dad's palm, and Dad grabbed a hunk of the loose skin on the back of his neck and pulled him closer. It was such a relief to feel Dad's hands loving him again. His tail pounded against Dad's chair as Dad patted the side of his chest.

Thor even dared to lie down on his back and offer his underside to Dad, and Dad stroked his chest and stomach deliciously.

He was back in the fold.

Uncle Ted missed breakfast, which had become standard; in the last few days, he'd been sleeping in later and later. Thor nonchalantly watched the back door while the Pack ate, taking his eyes off it only when someone tossed him a sc.r.a.p of bacon. And even then, after catching it, he went back to watching the door without acknowledging the donor. That was a first. He usually made a point of thanking his benefactors.

Dad noticed his preoccupation with the door. He got up and walked over to it, just to see what Thor would do.

Thor immediately stood at attention. Nothing unusual there, but there was something oddly businesslike in Thor's att.i.tude. He didn't look happy about the prospect of going out. Dad wondered for the umpteenth time what the h.e.l.l was going on.

”You wanna go out?” he said, speaking the words Thor knew as well as his own name. Thor flinched at the sound of the word, ”out,” but lay back down again.

”No?” Dad said, a little befuddled.

Thor's Duty had taken on new dimensions. He could not guard the Pack as casually as he once had. From now on, he would stay as close to them as possible.

Later, when Dad left for work, Thor was shocked by his own reaction. He was actually relieved to see Dad go. And when Teddy left to play softball, he felt the same unprecedented sensation, and hoped Mom and Brett and Debbie would go shopping; then they, too, would be safe. Then maybe Thor could get some sleep.

But Mom and Brett and Debbie didn't leave, and Thor didn't catch up on his sleep.

Instead, he lay on the kitchen stoop watching the garage, and watching Debbie ruin her shoes in the creek. Brett was fooling around in the driveway and Mom was doing the laundry. Since he couldn't stay near all of them, he watched the garage and wished Debbie would play somewhere else.

A little past noon, Uncle Ted came out, looking like h.e.l.l. He tried to act casual, but Thor saw the mantle of the Bad Dog on him more clearly than ever before. Uncle Ted walked guiltily to the kitchen door where Thor lay watching him. A few feet from the door he greeted Thor as if he'd just seen him for the first time.

”h.e.l.lo, Thor,” he said, with a slight quiver in his voice that a human would have missed. Thor lay in place, watching him intently. A formless question had taken hold of his mind. Most of Thor's questions only lasted long enough to amount to a sensation of wonder before evaporating. But this question was different. This question, as wordless as the others, stuck in his mind.

Is Uncle Ted a member of the Pack?

He eats with the Pack.

He sleeps in Pack territory.

He lives with the Pack.

He's Mom's brother.

The thought suddenly occurred to Thor that Uncle Ted hadn't simply gone out and met the Bad Thing; he had somehow brought it to the Pack, and if the Bad Thing returned, it would be because Uncle Ted went out and got it again. Even now, under all the soap and deodorant and too much cologne, faint traces of the Bad Thing were on him.

Uncle Ted stepped over Thor and into the kitchen. Thor got up and followed him in, but walked over to his empty food bowl and stuck his nose in to mask his intentions.

”Long sleeves?” Mom said when she saw Ted. ”On a day like today?” It was eighty-two degrees, and the forecast called for highs in the nineties. Mom sat at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee, waiting for the dryer to finish with a load of laundry.

”Yeah,” Uncle Ted said self-consciously. ”It's uh . . . it's laundry day for me, too. Besides, I don't want to get skin cancer.”

”Well, it's about time!” Mom said. She'd been on his case for years to stop tanning. ”I'll be through in a minute if you want to do a wash. Or you could give me your stuff and I'll wash it. I'm going to be here, anyway. G.o.d, you look awful!” she said suddenly, with the tactlessness of a sibling. She made a sympathetic face and asked, ”Did Thor keep you up, too? I'm awfully sorry.”

Uncle Ted seemed startled by the question.

”Oh! Yeah, but . . . I probably wouldn't have gotten any sleep anyway. I've got . . . things on my mind lately.”

”Anything you want to talk about?”

”Not really. But thanks.”

”Want me to take care of your wash?”

”I'm sure I can manage.”

Thor felt a flash of recognition as he watched Uncle Ted with Mom. Uncle Ted was acting exactly like a dog who's dirtied the living room rug while the family was out, and is trying to act nonchalant while he waits for the inevitable discovery of his hidden t.u.r.d.

Thor wondered where Uncle Ted's t.u.r.d was hidden.

Uncle Ted took Mom's empty laundry basket and walked out to the garage, glad to be away from the awkward conversation. Thor followed him as far as the kitchen door. He made himself comfortable on the back stoop and watched the man go up the stairs and into his apartment. A few minutes later, Uncle Ted came out with the full laundry basket in both hands. As he crossed the yard and came up the kitchen steps, Thor caught a strong scent of the Bad Thing from the pile of laundry.

Uncle Ted's hidden t.u.r.d.

Thor followed him through the kitchen door and watched him toss the clothes into the was.h.i.+ng machine. The machine, Thor knew, would erase the scent of the Bad Thing, as it erased almost all scents.

Uncle Ted seemed to breathe easier now that his t.u.r.d was safely hidden. But he still bore the demeanor of a Bad Dog.

He leaned over and patted Thor's head.

Thor didn't move. He issued a low growl, barely loud enough for Uncle Ted to hear, too low for Mom to hear. Their eyes met, and Thor didn't look away - Uncle Ted did.

Uncle Ted slowly, cautiously removed his hand from Thor's head and straightened up. He didn't want Mom to see him s.n.a.t.c.h his hand away in fear. Good. Thor didn't want Mom to see their little exchange, either.

”So,” Uncle Ted said, nervously tucking his s.h.i.+rt into his pants and sounding as innocent and nonchalant as Richard Nixon, ”what-all happened last night? I missed most of it.”

”I don't know, really,” Mom said over her shoulder as she set up the ironing board. ”Thor thought he heard something in the woods, I guess, and he just about threw a fit. Woke the whole house up. You're lucky you were in the garage.” She laughed in spite of herself. ”You'd think World War Three started. Anyway, Tom finally let him out, and he ran into the woods and didn't come back. He tried calling him with the dog whistle, but he just barked. I told Tom to forget it, let the dog come home when he wants, but he was afraid the neighbors would complain, so he trudged out there in my robe to find him. You should have seen it. I think I'll get him a robe like that . . . it really shows off his” - she lowered her voice a notch - ”a.s.s.”