He put his key in the lock. On the other side, Orph's tail banged against the floor. Bauer opened the door and Orph jumped up. His forepaws struck hard on Bauer's chest and knocked Bauer back against the jamb. Orph's tongue washed out over Bauer's face.
"Off!"
The dog hopped before him with anxious whines of pleasure, paws striking.
"Off!"
Bauer brought his knee up into Orph's chest. Someone had told him that this was the way to stop a dog from jumping. Do it hard, don't worry, you won't hurt him. But Bauer was afraid for the animal and unable to slam into it.
Besides, he enjoyed the dog's exuberance at his return.
So he gave Orph only a token blow; it had nearly become a game-jump, bump-jump, bump.
"Down," Bauer commanded. He had to repeat it several times before the dog lowered itself reluctantly to the floor, more a poised crouch than a down.
"Someday I'm really going to have to work with you," Bauer said.
He set his briefcase aside and went to one knee beside the dog. Orph broke his down with a swishing tail. The corners of his mouth pulled back in a grin and he laved Bauer's face and neck, burrowed his muzzle under Bauer's arm and wriggled happily. Bauer scratched the dog behind its ears and rubbed its heavy shoulders and chest.
"Good boy, that's my boy. Yes, I'm happy to see you, too. That's my good dog."
Strangely, Orph, a dog, an alien, had become the fixed point, the only sure referent-with his sons, hurt fully his at intervals and no more-his handhold. He loved the animal. It gave him unaccustomed joy.
They had lived together more than a year now. Bauer had found Orph as a pup hanging back in the darkness around a downstate gas station. The pup had drawn away when he'd approached, but held its distance. He'd hunkered and called to it. It approached, hesitated, withdrew, neared again, circled partway around and lay down and looked at Bauer mournfully.
"It's okay," Bauer said. "No one's going to hurt you. You're a good pup, come here now."
Bauer's wrists rested on his kneecaps. He let his hands dangle and he rubbed his thumbs softly against his fingertips as he reassured the dog.
The pup inched closer and finally stretched to lick Bauer's hands. He touched it. It shuddered. He spoke gently, caressed it, then moved his hand under its belly and lifted it. The pup squirmed and snapped at him. "It's all right," he said. "Calm down." He shifted it to the crook of his arm, touching and talking to it. It didn't try to bite again, but was tense, and its heart beat rapidly.
Bauer walked back into the light of the arc lamps. The attendant was finishing up the windshield.
"Who's this belong to?"
The boy shrugged. "He showed up a couple of hours ago. He's been spookin' around in the shadows. Just a stray."
"He's a puppy."
"Yeah?" The boy stuffed the cleaning rag into his hip pocket. "The oil's okay. The gas is nine-sixty."
"Do you know anyone who's had a litter recently?"
"Uh-uh."
"Well." Bauer rubbed the dog's head. It looked up at him warily, but without fear. "What do I do with you, huh?"
"Take him along. You leave him here, he'll get hit by a car or someone'll shoot him."
"Shoot him?"
"This is deer country, man, and farm country. You ever see an animal that's been killed by dogs?"
"Jesus, he's just a puppy."
"Yeah, well they grow up to be dogs."
Bauer left his name and phone number-the boy said there was no point-and put the pup in the back seat. He didn't want it, but he was unwilling to leave it to be killed on the highway or shot. It curled on the seat and went comfortably to sleep. Once home, Bauer set it down on the grass. It relieved itself and he took it inside.
The cabin was a kitchen, a living room and three bedrooms. Bauer's sons slept in one of the bedrooms when they visited, he used the smallest for a den.
"What do you think?" He felt foolish addressing the animal.
The pup cocked its head up. Bauer bent and petted it. It wagged its tail and rubbed against his leg, then stepped away. It tried to lift its floppy ears, its brow furrowed comically. It sniffed the air. It walked about the living room pausing to stare at furniture, a rocking horse Bauer's son Jeff played with, a stack of books on the floor. It sniffed, pawed at a throw rug. The living room weighed, it went to the kitchen and evaluated it, then down the hall and into each of the bedrooms. Bauer followed, amused.
"Fussy little bastard, aren't you?" The pup glanced over its shoulder, and went on.
When it completed its tour and decided everything was in order, it returned to Bauer's room, picked up a slipper and carried it to the door, in which Bauer was standing, then past him and toward the living room.
"No," Bauer said. "No."
He reached for the slipper. The pup held tight.
"Come on, hand it over."
The pup braced its legs.
"Come on, I mean it. Give." Bauer pried the pup's mouth open, scratching a finger on one: of the sharp milk teeth. He pointed to the slipper. "This is a no," he said. "Understand? A no. Good boy." He put the slipper atop a credenza.
The pup trotted back down the hall, appeared a moment later with his other slipper. He took that away, too. The pup resisted strenuously.
Bauer went into his sons' room and got a rubber ball. He held it up for the pup to see. He said, "Okay, go get it!" and tossed it.
The pup went rigid. Its head snapped to follow the flight of the ball.
The ball struck the floor. As it bounced up, the pup catapulted after it, clicked its teeth, leaped futilely in the air on the second bounce and pursued the ball headlong into the wall, careened off and went splay-legged and scrabbling across the slick plank floor. It pounced on the ball and sank its teeth deep. It tore a piece out of the soft rubber with a small growl of triumph.
"Very tough," Bauer said. "I'm impressed."
The pup ripped another piece, then stopped, seeming disappointed. It relaxed the pressure of its front paws, between which it had the ball trapped, and bunted it with its nose. The ball rolled away. The pup sprang after it, seized and dropped it, watched it bounce. The pup raced around the living room batting the ball with its paws, snarling in grandiose pretension and biting into it.
Bauer went to the kitchen and crumbled some chopped meat into a bowl, debated over a piece of cheese, then dropped it in. He filled a second bowl with water and set them on the floor. The pup was tired and resting on its side on the throw rug in front of the couch.
"Hey, pup," Bauer called. "Come here, boy. Come. Come on."
The dog lifted its head.
"Come on. Here. Come."
The pup stretched, and ambled over to the door.
"Food," Bauer said, though the animal didn't look desperate. It was outlandishly huge-footed, like a child in its father's shoes, heavy-boned and round with baby fat. Bauer rattled his fingernails against a bowl.
"Dinner. Food."
The pup sniffed. It charged to the meat and began eating greedily.
Bauer was amused by himself and the dog.
Later the dog tried to chew a book, then worked on a leg of the coffee table. Bauer dug through his closet for an old pair of hiking boots.
He gave one to the pup, who settled down to gnaw contentedly.
He took the dog out a final time before closing the house for the night and, as it had done after eating, it promptly relieved itself. He spread a couple thicknesses of newspaper in a corner of the kitchen and brought a big bath towel in and folded it over to make a bed. The pup was asleep in the living room, its jaw resting on the boot. Bauer petted it. "Wake up, buddy." The dog opened its eyes. "Sorry, but we have to shut you in." Theoretically it was ridiculous to be explaining to the animal, but it felt natural and right. He picked up the boot and carried it to the kitchen. The dog followed. Bauer patted the towel and lay the boot beside it. The pup dropped down and gave the boot a perfunctory lick. Bauer petted the dog. "You'll be fine here.