Impending doom

People talk about “the dog who caught the car,” as if nabbing cars is the point. A dog knows that the thrill is in the chase, so who cares if you actually catch anything? But our companions at the other end of the leash aren’t so wise. 

Humans, or people as they call themselves (as if dogs couldn’t be people, too), get so distracted trying to solve the mystery of what happens next that they don’t notice all the fun they’re missing along the way. It’s not the wondering so much as the wandering in search of answers that gets them into trouble. My life partner, who I call Mom, wandered onto the road once and actually caught the car. Some dreams are more fun when they don’t come true. 

It all began right after she started molting. Every few years, Mom goes through a phase where she puts our life inside a box, shakes it up, and puts everything away in a different house than where it belonged before. Humans molt other things, too, but a house is easier to see than what’s inside their heads. 

As a dog who spends more time with humans than I spend by myself, I’m an expert in human behavior. I can read what’s in their thought bubbles by watching the way they move, where their eyes are pointing, and listening to the sounds they make. Mom and I go almost everywhere together, including the places where dogs don’t usually go. We even work together. Or, at least we did back when there were still jobs for office dogs, before the City emptied out so they could tear it all down. But no one knew yet that the whole world was about to start molting, too. Mom and I just thought that we were going on a quest to get Mom out of her rut and would come home to a different job, in a different office, with a different pack of collies for me to manage. 

On my last day as a business dog, I ran across the slick office floor like a cannonball to greet one of my best collies at the door. I slid the last few steps and stopped against her shins, doing a hello jig to keep her from walking away without petting me. The clicking of my toenails bounced off the brick walls, filling the office to the rafters with the sound of joy.

“Hi, Oscar!” Jackie squealed, crouching to scratch my muscular booty with both hands. “Are you excited for your trip?”

“I’m excited if you’re excited.” I wiggled my stubby tail in rhythm with her scratching.

As if I hadn’t heard her the first time, Jackie asked again, “Who’s excited? Are you excited?” 

I didn’t mind that she couldn’t understand my accent. Any attention is good attention. “It’s me! I’m excited!” I aimed a grin toward Mom to invite her into the conversation. She lurked in the corner, trying to shrink herself down even smaller than she actually was, but her face reflected my smile. 

With all that baby talk and repeating everything over and over, it’s no wonder that humans have a reputation for being dimwits. Some people think that dogs are dumb, too—as if anyone who can’t count past ten doesn’t count at all—but they usually think that about anyone they don’t take the time to understand. Humans only talk like tea kettles to us dogs because they want so badly to be understood. If you pay attention, you’ll find that they have a much bigger vocabulary than sit, stay, and do you wanna. After spending so much time studying them, I’ve learned to understand the more subtle vocalizations that they use with each other. There are still some words that don’t fit easily in a dog’s head, but you get the hang of them with practice. 

Take the word collie, for example. When I first became a business dog, I was confused about why all my new Friends kept talking about their collies. Since Mom and I worked together, I naturally assumed that everyone’s canine life partners must come to the office with them. I expected Lassie to burst out of one of the glass doors at any minute to herd her team into a meeting. Maybe I just started on a slow day. 

The next day I was still the only dog under the lunch table, and the next, and the day after that. So I listened more closely and noticed a pattern. Every time someone used the word, their eyes shifted to someone else and softened with something like friendship. Over time I worked out that, just like a friendly person becomes a Friend as you learn more about them and collect memories together, a collie is a Friend you make at work.

Mom was too clumsy around people to make Friends without supervision. That’s why I was hired. I was what they called a reasonable amomodation, which means a dog who trains a reactive human to behave around other people. It’s not like Mom was aggressive or anything. She liked other people—or at least the idea of company—but she wasn’t very well socialized and other people made her nervous. Without me to show her how friendly the world could be, Mom would be chewing on the furniture in no time.

Jackie looked up at Mom and her voice stiffened to a human register. “You sure are lucky you’re leaving the City when you are. It’s coming…” She paused for a meaningful look and her eyes added, You know what I’m talking about and how monstrous it is. 

“What’s coming?” I asked. “The boat?” 

For weeks, everyone had been talking about a boat full of people possessed by some unspeakable evil. The sailors wanted to go home, but no port would let them in, even in the places where they belonged. So they’d been floating on the high seas like pirates until someone figured out what to do with the wickedness inside of them.

“You can’t leave people to drift around the ocean just because you don’t have a perfect solution to their problems,” Mom said with a wag of her head. “Did you hear that they’re thinking about actually closing schools because of this nonsense? Since when do we call a state of emergency over germs? Kids get sick. That’s what they do. I’m glad we’ll be out of the City till this whole thing blows over.”

Mom never met a problem she couldn’t solve by running away. Being trapped with her problems was the worst torment that she could imagine, even worse than being trapped with other people. Her mind had been chasing the same stale thoughts for so long that she didn’t even need to think them to be exhausted. When a dog or a mind won’t come when it’s called, the only way to get their attention is to run away. A mind, like a dog, loves to chase and no adventure ever got to happily ever after without a quest. We were leaving on a quest that very afternoon to give Mom and her mind space to find each other again. 

“Well, I’m glad that you’ll be working right down the street so I can keep seeing this guy when you get back!” Jackie turned up the vigorousness on her butt scratching to show she was talking about me. 

“You should come with us!” I channeled my excitement into the corner where Mom was hiding. “Wouldn’t that be fun, Mom?”

Mom’s face clenched. After a too-long pause, she said, “Maybe we can come over for lunch every other week.” 

“You promise?” I wagged. If Mom had her way, she would work inside a computer so she never had to see people at all. Luckily, jobs like that were as rare as unicorns, and harder to catch than a car.

The buzzer announced that someone else was about to open the door. I turned to see who it was. “Denise!” I squealed, launching toward her as fast as I could on the slick floor. I was just about to hit cruising speed when there was a thump behind me. The leash snapped taut, holding me fast to the spot. When I looked back, Mom was standing on the other end, trying to look busy.

“Good morning, Jackie,” Denise said as she walked into the kitchen. “Good morning, Oscar.” She leaned over to give me a stiff pat. 

“Good morning, Denise! How was your—”

“Come on, Oscar,” Mom interrupted. “We’ve got some things to wrap up before lunchtime.”

Denise may have been my Friend, but she was Mom’s nemesis. No matter what Mom did, Denise came along afterward to tell her all the ways it was wrong. Except when Denise liked what Mom did and took credit for it herself, like the dog at the park that pees on everything right after someone else does. 

I wouldn’t have needed to choose between Mom and my career if Denise hadn’t come between us, but there wasn’t room enough in this office for the two of them. After Mom left her last job—the lonely one that thought dogs belonged at home—she made a solemn vow to never let work come between us again. She found our job with Jackie and the others so I could work with her. We worked hard to keep each other on our best behavior at the office, but Mom wore out her welcome before I did. 

“Bye, Denise!” I wagged as Mom dragged me out of the kitchen. “I’ll see you at lunch after our quest.”

Dogs don’t like to travel the same way as our human companions. We prefer to bark in hotels rather than sleep in them, and if you think airplanes are cruel for humans, try flying like a dog. So instead of traveling the usual way, Mom and I toured the world in an ancient minivan with just enough room for a dog and his Mom to live in the back. Because it was white, round, ancient, and held our whole lives inside as we traveled the west in search of a better life, I named our car-house the Covered Wagon. 

The Wagon wasn’t always a car-house. Before it met us, it was a mailman van that used to carry its villain from house to house as he hunted for families without brave dogs to protect them. Now the Wagon was reformed. It kicked the mailman out of its cockpit, ripped off its tattoos, and filled its heart with warm blankets and nourishment. Like Mom, the Wagon still showed signs of a rougher past. Its postal tattoos hadn’t come off without a fight, and there were long scars on its flank where the tattoos ripped the skin away to show the raw metal underneath. The sicko who used to drive it would watch the Wagon’s butt as he drove, and now Mom didn’t know how to remove the camera or the satellite-dish-sized mirror sticking suspiciously off of its back. Mom kept the bars in the windows that defended the Wagon from vulnerability but used them to hang lights and other useful things where she could find them. To protect the Wagon’s privacy, Mom had the windows tinted as black as sunglasses. With time, the scars, bars, and extra doodads became endearing quirks that made the Wagon easier to find in a crowded car kennel. 

With the Wagon as our car-house, we could travel just about anywhere and be ready for whatever we found when we got there. I was the captain, responsible for making sure that each day had a happy ending. Mom was my skipper, driving the Wagon, making food, and talking us out of any trouble we met along the way.

Unlike Mom, I never dreamed of running away from work or the fiddy collies I managed there. Meetings were the best part of my job because people weren’t supposed to touch their keyboards in a meeting. I wandered the room in search of restless hands, offering my head for a pat any time I found one. Lunch, when everyone came together to drop food on the floor, was the best meeting of all.

I was enjoying a last lunch with my collies when Mom called for me to c’mere. I pulled my face out of the lap it was resting on and followed Mom toward a room where nobody was eating. 

“This had better be important,” I said, looking back at my collies, still pushing food meant for me around their almost-empty plates.

“It is. We’ve got to do my exit interview so we can hit the road.” Mom closed the door. “We’ve got a long drive tonight and an early start tomorrow.”

I was about to ask why we had to be up so early if we didn’t have to go to work when Boss Charming came in. My questions would have to wait. 

Boss Charming was a great leader. He knew how to motivate each member of his pack to bring out their best. Mom gets job satisfaction from fancy words, so he sat at one end of the long table politely listening to her stack one big word on top of another while at the same time praising me with pats on the back. 

At the far end of the table, Mom’s speech went something like, “Blah, blah, blah, synergy…” I recognized the words cattiness and territorial, but I wasn’t really paying attention. If only Mom hadn’t had neglectful bosses in the past, she might not want to run away from Boss Charming’s pack. But like a kicked puppy can grow up to be a dog that runs away from even a good home, Mom’s need for escape was stronger than her need for a pack.

“… agile methodologies to deploy new features without running it by the QA team…” Mom droned, while under the table I worked hard to earn Boss Charming’s respect in a different way. “… devaluing the impact on cross-functional— Is my dog licking your leg?” she interrupted herself.

“Yes, he is,” Boss Charming said with the confidence and grace of a natural leader.

I listened to them look at each other for a few licks, but stayed on task.

“Would you like me to make him stop?” Mom asked.

I moved on to a fresh spot as Boss Charming shifted in his seat and tilted his head to give Mom’s question the consideration it deserved. “No,” he said after careful thought. “I’m wearing jeans.”

The wet smacking of my hard work filled the room as they looked at each other for another beat. Mom resumed, “… dynamically integrate client-centered methodologies…”

After a while Mom’s fancy words wound down and everyone relaxed a little. 

“How long are you taking off before you start the next job?” Boss Charming asked, leaning back in his chair to show he was asking as a Friend. 

“About a month. I start on April 6,” Mom counted. 

I knew that six meant some, but not too many, but when she strung six together with a whole lot of other numbers, I got confused. Numbers were Mom’s way of organizing her life and testing the trustworthiness of others. If she said, “I’ll meet you at six,” and the other person solved the riddle and showed up where she expected, then she knew that they were safe. April was a number used to count time, but only a human could understand its true meaning. When Mom said April, her thought bubble might show anything from daffodils to taxes.

“What are your plans for your time off?” Boss Charming asked.

“We’re headed up to Oregon tonight, then going on a road trip through the southwest.” Her finger danced through the air like an orchestra conductor to show what a long way we planned to go. “I’ve always wanted to see Devil’s Tower in Wyoming, but I keep getting distracted in the Four Corners area and wind up spending more time in Canyon Country than expected.”

“I’ve been to all the far corners of the earth,” I bragged, “the corner of Utah, the corner of Arizona, the corner of New Mexico, and… that’s four, right?”

“Isn’t Oregon a little out of the way?” Boss Charming asked. 

“I’ve been there too,” I bragged.

“A little,” Mom admitted, as if she couldn’t hear me. She did that a lot when other people were around. “But I committed to run this race a few months ago so we could meet one of Oscar’s social media followers.” I had to make all of Mom’s Friends for her, even on the internet. I think she preferred making Friends on the internet because unlike in real life, the internet let her share only the parts of herself that she wanted people to see. “We’ll run the race and book it down to Death Valley the next day so the detour won’t put us behind schedule,” she explained.

“Isn’t it shorter if you come through Salt Lake?” Boss Charming said. “Idaho and Montana are beautiful.” 

Mom bristled at being told something that she already knew, so I jumped in to save her. “Who ever heard of changing your plans just because something is convenient? You can’t let the world push you around like that. Isn’t that right, Mom?”

“March is too early in the season for the mountains,” Mom agreed. “The Sierras, Cascades, and Rockies are still going to be covered in snow and the back roads will be closed.” She waved her hand through the air like someone unbothered by inconvenience. “What’s an extra 1,000 miles anyway? It only takes about 15 hours to drive from Florence to Badwater.” 

“It can get pretty cold in the desert this time of year, too,” Boss Charming warned, as if we didn’t already know that, too.

“That’s what blankies are for,” I told him. 

“It’s not so bad.” Mom shrugged. “I’ve got a couple of 0º sleeping bags. It’s pretty cozy with enough extra layers, a hat, and the dog. We’ve slept through plenty of single-digit temperatures that way. At least I don’t have to worry about finding ice for the cooler in wintertime. Summer’s much worse. Especially before I got the air conditioner fixed.” 

Boss Charming looked at Mom with something like concern to show how impressed he was. “Don’t you ever worry about traveling alone in all those remote places?” 

“Nah.” She flapped a limp hand to show how silly it would be to worry about a little thing like that. “I like being alone.”

“She’s not alone,” I promised. “I’ll be with her the whole time.”

“Good thing you’ve got Oscar with you,” Boss Charming agreed. “People will hesitate before messing with a big, black, barking pitbull.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll have Mom to protect me,” I told him. “I run faster than her, so they’ll eat her first.”

“What do you do for food?” he asked.

“I have a cooler and a little camp stove that I set up on a TV dinner tray,” Mom said modestly. “I keep about a week’s worth of soup and trail mix in the van and usually pass through a town big enough for a supermarket every few days. If not, there are always truck stops.”

Boss Charming looked even more impressed than before. “Be careful in those places.”

Mom’s shoulders stiffened. She shifted into her expert voice to show that she didn’t need anyone’s advice on how dangerous other people could be. “Truck stops get a bad rap. They have pretty much anything you need: cheap gas, sparkling water, bathrooms, showers, laundry, and hot dogs for this one.” She tilted her head toward me.

“Truck stops are the best,” I wagged. “They’re like people; always surprising you with delicious treats, as long as you don’t expect them to be something that they’re not. Searching for the best in exotic and unfamiliar places is what makes traveling fun.” 

“I guess you won’t find anything more dangerous at a truck stop than you would in the street outside this office,” Boss Charming said with a shrug. “You’ll probably be safer out there than around here for the next month. That cruise ship is supposed to be docking in Oakland today.” 

I wanted to find out what Boss Charming knew about the ghost ship, but he opened the door and the smell of sammiches rushed in. A new group of collies sat unsupervised at the lunch table, probably dropping chicken and hamburger on the floor. 

“You’ll fill me in later, right Mom?” I called over my shoulder before resuming my post under the lunch table. 

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