Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
We stared at one another, neither of us daring to move. I held my breath...and moved my hand close enough for it to reach. Images flashed through my head: teeth snapping, severed fingers falling—
The dog sniffed at my hand. It was so big, I could feel the suck of air against my fingertips. “It’s okay,” I whispered.
The dog drew its head back and relaxed, flopping back onto its side. I crawled right up to it. God, it was enormous! How big would it be, if it was standing? Past my waist, at least.
How do you calm dogs? I hesitantly reached out and put my hand on its side. My fingers sank into deep, soft fur. I thought of German Shepherds as having short, bristly coats, but this one didn’t. I stroked and it was so soft...I felt both of us relax. “Good dog,” I breathed.
I shone the flashlight over its legs. Shit. It was really tangled. It must have gotten wrapped up in the wire and then struggled, unable to escape, and made it worse and worse. It would have been trapped there until it died of thirst if I hadn’t heard it.
I reached for one of the loops of wire, and the dog lifted its head and growled again. There was a metal jangle right next to my head and I looked round...and stopped dead.
There was a coil of barbed wire an inch from my face. I leaned back out of the way and shone the flashlight around, lighting up the dark parts of the alley I’d ignored until now. The wire led up to the top of the fence at the end of the alley. The dog must have scrambled over the fence, gotten tangled in the barbed wire, and pulled half of it down with him. It lay in sharp, springy coils all around us. When the dog moved, it moved. If the dog struggled, I could lose an eye. If it panicked and tried to get away, I could wind up with wire wrapped around my neck.
I looked back towards the mouth of the alley. I could just walk away, and I’d be safe. But if I didn’t help it, no one would.
Barely daring to breathe, I took hold of a loop that had dug deep into the dog’s leg. The dog raised its head and let out a whimper. The coils jangled and moved around us. “Shh,” I told it desperately. “Shh, I know. I know it hurts. But you have to stay still.” Idiot. Like it’s going to understand you.
But the dog looked at me with big, sorrowful eyes and then slowly laid its head back down as if it did understand.
I loosened the wire, wincing as I teased the barbs from the dog’s flesh. Its breathing tightened and it trembled in pain...but it didn’t move. I ran a hand over its big, furry flank. “Shh, shh. You’re doing great.”
Barb by barb, loop by loop, I slowly freed the dog. I didn’t have anything to cut the wire with, so I had to just pull it out of the way and use my elbows and legs to hold it clear so it didn’t spring back. I picked up a few scrapes and cuts even through my jeans and hooded top, and my hands were scratched to hell. But finally, I got the last leg free. “There,” I said triumphantly. The dog scrambled free and rose up: God, it was even bigger than I’d thought, looming over me as I knelt. I expected it to run away but it waited for me as if wanting to make sure I was safe, too.
At the mouth of the alley, I crouched down and ruffled its fur. A big, wet tongue licked my cheek and I yelped in surprise and then laughed, relief washing over me. We did it. When I stood up, the dog immediately pressed close to me. It felt like we’d bonded for life.
I stood up, ruffled its fur again and waited, expecting it to run off home. But it looked around, sniffed the air and then moved over to me, limping a little. Either it didn’t have a home, or it didn’t know the way. I looked for a collar but there wasn’t one. Shit. Now what? It needed a vet, but even if I could find one at this time of night, I had no money to pay. I couldn’t just leave it like this. Its wounds would get infected if they weren’t dressed.
The dog looked at me and cocked its head to the side, then snuffled its wet nose into my hand.
I sighed. “Okay,” I said aloud. “Looks like you’re coming home with me.”
It limped alongside me, pressing tight against my legs as I crossed the parking lot. As soon as I opened the back door of my aging Toyota, it jumped inside and curled up, taking up the entire back seat.