"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 washing 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 shirt 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."

Uncle Ted's face went white with fear, but Mom's back was turned and she didn't see it. "So . . . what did he find?" he managed to say.

"Nothing," Mom answered. "It took some effort, but he finally got Thor to come in. He was really p.i.s.sed when he got back to bed."

"So what do you think it was all about?" Uncle Ted asked, a little too nonchalantly.

"I have no idea, but I'm not too worried. Thor barks at practically everything."

"Well, I don't know, sis. Big predators can travel awfully long distances if their habitat runs dry. Just because the woods here haven't had anything dangerous recently, doesn't mean they'll always be safe. If I were you, I wouldn't let the kids play out there for a while, until-" He stopped short.

"Yes? Until what?"

"I don't know. I must be getting confused. I was thinking for a second about the wolf near my house. I was going to say, 'until this thing blows over.' But anyway, it just proves my point: There aren't supposed to be wolves where I live, and look what happened to that girl. I just think you should be more cautious, all of you, and take the dog more seriously. And don't let him go out there, either."

"Ted, don't you think you overdoing it a little? Thor isn't exactly helpless, you know."

"How big is he? In pounds, I mean."

"Are you ready for this? Ninety-three pounds!"

"You know how big gray wolves get? Up to a hundred seventy-five!"

"Ted, give me a break! The dog starts barking in the night, and now you've got a hundred and seventy-five pound wolf at the door! It's not exactly like dogs never bark in the night. Are you feeling okay?"

She put down the iron and looked at her brother. "Listen, Ted," she said, "I know you've been going through h.e.l.l for a while now, but you've got to try to take it easy. Relax. You're turning into a bundle of nerves. Ever since you got here, you've been as jumpy as a cat, and the last couple of nights it's gotten worse. I really think you should consider . . . seeing someone."

Uncle Ted snorted. "And I don't suppose you mean a date, do you?" Mom looked at the floor, took a deep breath, then met his eyes.

"No, Ted, I don't. I'm afraid for you. I've never seen you like this, and I don't know what to do. You're drifting further and further away, and I don't mean from me. I mean from everyone and everything." Tears welled up in her eyes and her voice wavered. "Oh, Ted."

She choked back a sob, then broke down and cried, face in her hands, knees trembling. Uncle Ted rushed to her and took her in his arms.

Thor snapped to alarmed attention, his fur standing on his shoulders. If Mom cried out or tried to get away from Uncle Ted, Thor was ready to attack him without hesitation.

But Mom took succor from Uncle Ted's embrace. Uncle Ted gently guided her to the kitchen table and sat her down, then went to the stove and turned on the burner under the tea kettle. He looked over his shoulder at her as she dabbed her eyes with a napkin, then turned his face to the stove. He gripped the stove with both hands and spoke to the burners.

"I wish there was something you could do to help me, but there isn't. If I weren't such a selfish, cowardly b.a.s.t.a.r.d, I wouldn't even be here." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm leaving. Today."

Mom looked up, startled.

"No, Ted! You can't! Where would you go?"

"I don't know," he said with his back still turned to her. "But I have to. It's not right, me being here, taking advantage of you."

"You're not-" Mom began, but Uncle Ted cut her off.

"I am taking advantage of you, and the fact that you don't realize it doesn't make it any better." He took another breath and said, "I have to go."

Mom got up and tentatively put a hand on his back to ma.s.sage the muscles between his shoulders. Uncle Ted didn't respond. She leaned against his back and ran her hands down his arms and took hold of his wrists, and he flinched and gasped. She immediately let go and decided against asking why his wrists were sore. She was afraid to find out.

"Ted, don't go," she pleaded. "Stay for me. Please. If you go now, it'll kill me. Please don't." She knew her brother well enough to understand that he was talking suicide. She countered the only way she knew how, by threatening in kind.

Thor understood the conversation better than almost any other he'd ever heard. The depth of Uncle Ted's guilt and despair, and the desperation and terror and love in Mom's response left no doubt that they were discussing Uncle Ted's possible demise.

But unlike Mom, Thor wasn't bothered by the prospect. Uncle Ted's departure would solve all of Thor's problems.

What did bother Thor was the strength of Mom's attachment to her brother. Every word that pa.s.sed between them seemed to cement Uncle Ted's position in the Pack.

"Promise me," Mom whispered. "Promise me you'll stay here until . . . until you work things out. Please."

Uncle Ted let go of the counter and covered his face with his hands, unconsciously imitating his sister's pose from moments before.

But he didn't cry. He just stood that way for what seemed like an eternity, thinking. Finally, he said, "I'll try."

Chapter 11.

Uncle Ted kept to himself for the rest of the day, retreating to his apartment after his laundry was done. Thor spent the day on the kitchen stoop, watching the door to Uncle Ted's apartment. Dad got home early for a change, and under orders from Mom, he dragged Uncle Ted out of hiding and into the house to be with the family. The Pack seemed determined to make Uncle Ted a full-fledged member.

Uncle Ted worked hard to conceal his depression in Dad's presence, and he did a good job, too. The two of them sat together in the living room, drinking beer and talking while they ignored the TV news. After a while, Uncle Ted seemed as relaxed as any Good Dog. At one point, Dad grunted himself out of his chair and grabbed the remote control. He muted the set and flipped through the channels and found a National Geographic special, which he left on with no sound.

"You were there, weren't you?" he asked Uncle Ted. The screen showed the Serengeti Plain in Africa.

"No, but I could've gone. I got an offer last year." Dad was sorry he'd asked. Uncle Ted had turned down the offer because he was in mourning. Uncle Ted deftly changed the subject.

"Check this out," he said, and he nodded his head toward the dog. Thor, who was lying between them on the floor like a library lion, had just straightened his posture a little to get a better view of the TV. The image on the screen was a cheetah stalking a wildebeest. Both animals appeared in profile. Their shapes and behavior were unmistakable, and Thor was fascinated.

"Well, how do you like that?" Dad said. "I always wondered if they can see what's on the screen. I guess he just wasn't interested in car chases and bouncy blondes."

Uncle Ted laughed.

"For sure!" Uncle Ted said. "It was proved conclusively on Stupid Pet Tricks, on David Letterman. This lady had a dog who watched TV all the time, and he was totally cool as long as there weren't animals on screen. Humans, yes, animals no. As soon as he saw a dog on screen, he went crazy. It was wild! He was jumping and snapping at the set like a maniac. And as soon as the animals left the screen, he calmed down. f.u.c.king amazing!"

The profile views of the cheetah and the wildebeest were gone, and so was Thor's interest in the TV.

"I wonder what he thinks of the stereo," Dad said, almost to himself. "You know, it doesn't matter what's playing, cla.s.sical, jazz, noise-rock - he acts like he doesn't even hear it."

"Oh, he does. He just knows it's irrelevant, that's all."

"But how does he know it's irrelevant?" Dad said. "I mean, some of Teddy's records sound like the end of the G.o.dd.a.m.n world. And he plays them loud. But the dog just lies there like he's deaf."

"It's directional," Uncle Ted said without a moment's thought. "He's learned that the meaningless sounds, the ones that never result in anything happening, always come from the exact same spot in the room, no matter what they sound like or how loud they are. So he learns to ignore any sound that comes from that spot." Uncle Ted noticed Dad looking at him wonderingly. "I'm . . . speculating. I've wondered about it myself, given it a lot of thought."

Dad thought that was an odd answer, considering Uncle Ted had never owned a dog. And he didn't sound like he was speculating. But Dad didn't say anything about it.