Page 2 of Guarded By the Hellhound
“So, he doesn’t have a name?” I gasp.
“Nope,” she confirms.
I think about it: come hell or high water, I am taking this dog with me today. I stop petting him and straighten myself.
“What do you need for me to take him home?”
Her smile brightens her face, and it’s contagious. “Awesome!” she exclaims, looking like she is barely containing a fist pump. I smile back at her expectantly.
“You just need to fill out the paperwork. We require a small fee for keeping him and ensuring he is healthy.” I nod because I know that. “If it turns out you’re not a good match after all, you can exchange him for another free of charge, but we won’t give you a refund if you return him and leave without a dog.”
I nod once more.
“Did you think of a name? Or would you like me to name him for you?”
“Raider,” I say with certainty. I have no idea where it’s coming from.
“Raider,” she says with approval. "Okay, let’s go sign that paperwork!”
KATHERINE
Ienter my house with my arms filled with stuff, towing Raider with me on his leash. I try not to act too nervous because I don’t want my behavior to affect Raider. Having him already makes me feel more confident, although, I still hate that I’m not able to use my hands in case of…
I dump the contents of my arms on the hallway floor: dog food in three different flavors combined with a bag that holds bowls for water and kibble. I immediately walk back to my car, I had to leave it open, and that makes me nervous. At times like these, I really wish I had a garage. Luckily, I have Raider, and I take him with me on the three runs it takes to get everything out of the car and into the house. When I can finally lock my front door, I sag against it, my face in my hands, breathing deeply. I am home. I am safe.
Raider whines, pushing his big head into my hands and placing his head on my knee. I swear, sitting on the ground, he is bigger than me. I focus on him, scratching behind his ears.
“You are such a good boy, aren’t you?” He barks in response, and I laugh—time to get all this stuff sorted.
It takes me the rest of the afternoon to organize all his stuff. I order a collar with a shiny name tag online, completing the order with the largest dog bed I can find. The internet tells me that a dog needs its own space, or it will claim yours as its own.
I stand and stretch when Raider starts to whine. “What’s wrong, buddy?” I ask him, and he walks towards the door, beginning to scratch.
I cock my head. “Do you need to go out?”
He gives me a confirming bark, and I take a depressing look outside. The afternoon has had some dry spots, but it’s raining all over again right now. With a sigh, I don a raincoat and boots before I take his leash to walk him in the park. I make sure my pepper spray and mist horn are in my pockets, next to the dog treats the shelter lady gave me, and we're off.
The walk is quick, and we don’t encounter many other people, just a person or two walking their dog. We are almost home, waiting for a red light, when I suddenly feel a presence behind me. I glance over my shoulder, but the hood of my raincoat is blocking my vision. It’s crystal clear there’s someone behind me, though, because Raider starts to growl low in his throat. I clutch his leash and pet his back awkwardly, holding on to him as if he is my last remaining thread of sanity.
I hear shuffling behind me, and when I feel like I can breathe again, I turn around. There’s a man standing a safe distance behind me. He mumbles a sorry, and when the light turns green, he swiftly walks past with a wide berth.
“Good boy,” I murmur at Raider and give him a treat. He gobbles it up, but his indignant expression has me laughing out loud.
“Not a fan, then? Alright, I will try another brand.”
When we get home, I feel a lot safer. I close up all the locks on my front door before checking the windows, keeping Raider at my side the entire time. I love how protective he is of me; it makes me feel confident that he’s the right dog for me.
That feeling quickly fades when it’s time for bed, and he jumps onto my bed, even before I can sit down on it.
“No, Raider. Bad dog,” I say. “You sleep there.” And I point at the floor near my window chair. “There.” I point again. He doesn’t move a muscle. I point and try the commands again and again. I even grab him by the skin on his neck to get him off the bed, but he only lets out an irritated yip.
I give up and crawl under the covers. “Just for one night, Raider.” I chastise him, but he just pushes his head into my hand, and I can’t help but absently stroke his fur as I fall asleep.
RAIDER
Sunlight is slowly creeping in through the curtains. I did not sleep much. My instincts were on high alert, and they kept screaming at me:Protect! Protect!I look at the human lying next to me. She sleeps lightly, stirring with every bit of noise there is. Her anxiety is playing up, even in her sleep.
When I think about how she tensed up yesterday when that guy at the park stood close to her, my hackles rise again.Protect her!My instincts screamed at me, getting me out of the haze that was clouding my brain. So, that’s what I’ll do.
