What to do?

Thor spent just over two hours in the cellar. What little sunlight filtered through the small, dusty windows was beginning to fade. He felt thankful for the deepening shadows that engulfed him.

Suddenly the latch on the cellar door clicked and the door swung open, and a shaft of electric light pierced the darkness, jolting Thor out of his meditation of despair.

"Thor!"

Dad's voice was stern but not outraged. Was that a trace of forgiveness in his voice? Thor haltingly lifted himself off the floor on trembling legs.

"Thor! Come up here!"

He ran up the stairs, a bundle of mixed emotions. He knew forgiveness was a possibility, but amends had to be made first. And even if he was forgiven, he would have to prove all over again that he was worthy to live with the Pack.

All he wanted was a chance to prove it.

He slowed down as he neared the top of the stairs. Dad was standing there with a rolled-up newspaper in his hand. Thor held his head and body close to the stairs, his ears flat, and his tail tucked between his legs. His tail felt no urge to wag, even involuntarily. It was much too soon for that.

"Come up here," Dad said, his voice still stern and formal.

Thor crawled through the doorway with his body low, his eyes nervously scanning the floor. He didn't even dare to look at Dad's face.

Teddy stood in the dining room with his sleeve rolled up to expose his wrist; Uncle Ted was nowhere in sight. Dad grabbed a handful of loose skin on the back of Thor's neck (not his collar - a very good sign), dragged him away from the doorway, and closed the cellar door (another good sign). Thor's tail thumped the floor in fits and jerks, embarra.s.sing him.

"Are you going to be a Good Dog?" Dad asked.

Thor didn't move, but his tail beat a rapid tattoo.

"Are you?" Dad demanded, slapping his own thigh impatiently with the newspaper.

YES, YES, YES, YES, YES!.

"Come over here."

Dad walked into the dining room where Teddy waited.

Oh, no.

"Get over here!" Thor thought he heard an unspoken "Bad Dog" on the end of Dad's sentence. He almost wished he was back in the cellar, but he obeyed. He dragged himself into the dining room like a soldier crawling under barbed wire.

"Teddy, hold your arm out," Dad said.

Dad cupped Thor's chin in his hand and lifted his nose up to Teddy's wrist. Thor was too ashamed to look directly at the boy's arm; he got the message.

"You see that?" Dad demanded.

"NO!" he said, punctuating the awful word with a newspaper swat on Thor's snout. The newspaper hardly hurt; its real function was to make a loud smack as it hit him. The punishment was psychological; that Dad would want to hit him for any reason hurt more than any physical pain. He trembled violently as he braced himself for the blows.

"NO!"

Swat!

"NO!"

Swat!

"NO!"

Swat!

"NO!"

Swat!

"Understand?"

YES, YES, YES, YES, YES! his tail answered.

"All right." Dad released Thor's head and tossed the newspaper aside.

"Are you going to be a Good Dog?" Dad asked again. Thor answered by wagging his tail and frantically licking Dad's hands.

"Don't tell me, tell Teddy," Dad said sternly, pointing to his son. Thor wheeled around and licked Teddy's hands twice, then came back to Dad, showering his hands with desperate kisses.

"You tell Teddy you're sorry," Dad repeated, and pushed him toward Teddy. Again, Thor kissed Teddy's hands briefly and came back to Dad.

He could apologize to Teddy forever, but Teddy couldn't forgive him. Only Dad could do that.

"Okay," Dad said, giving in at last. "But you better be Good from now on." Thor involuntarily leaped up and planted a kiss on Dad's mouth.

"Stop it!" Dad said sharply, but without real anger.

The session was over. Thor felt as if he were climbing out of his own grave, into sunshine he'd never expected to see again. He was forgiven, but he would have to be extra careful from now on. He still had to prove he was a Good Dog.

Dad walked to the back door and opened it.

"Out you go," he said. Thor nearly leaped from the dining room to the back door in one bound.

Tom watched him run into the backyard, torn by self doubts. He wasn't at all sure he'd made the right decision.

Maybe it had been a mistake to get a German shepherd in the first place. He'd often heard German shepherds can be "over-protective."

And aside from the breed being too protective, Thor himself was acting strange. He'd always loved Ted, but ever since Ted came to stay with them Thor had treated him like a total stranger.

Tom didn't want to think he might be endangering his family by giving Thor a second chance. He tried to block it out, but it was there, unspoken, in the back of his mind.

Chapter 12.

Thor was relieved to be outside, where he could better protect the Pack. He could already feel the Bad Thing coming again. The sky was darkening fast, but the moon would soon rise, bringing its cold brilliance to the night. He started across the yard to the garage, when something startled him.

A bright white spot shot across the gra.s.s from behind the garage, then darted back again. Kitty was practicing pouncing on some imaginary prey. Thor worried for her safety. He trotted over and tried to muzzle her in the direction of the house, but the kitten resisted, playfully taking a swing at his nose. He barked once, quickly remembered the trouble he'd gotten into for barking lately, and whined and mewled at her instead. Misunderstanding him completely, she leaped at his face, but he dodged the attack and she hit the ground and rolled a few feet.

It was no use. He'd tried once before to herd the kitten into the house, and all he got for his efforts was a row of painful scratches across his nose. The kitten would not be herded.

But the Bad Thing was coming. Thor wasn't sure how to handle the situation, but at least he knew where the Bad Thing would come from.

He walked to the foot of the garage stairs and waited. He could hear Uncle Ted moving around inside. He felt an urge to run up the stairs and bark at him, to order him to stay inside, but he didn't dare. Following his urges had gotten him in big trouble lately. Holding his urges in check was absolutely essential.

So he sat on the gra.s.s and waited as the sky darkened.

He didn't have to wait long. Uncle Ted opened the door and stepped onto the landing in a brand-new sweatsuit. He took one step, saw Thor, and stopped short. A worried look crossed his face and he turned and went back inside, closing the door behind him. A few seconds later he pulled a drape away from a window and checked the landing at the top of the stairs, obviously expecting to see Thor there.

But Thor was still on the gra.s.s. Uncle Ted closed the drape.

Thor looked back at the house, hoping to see Dad in the kitchen doorway. If only he could tell Dad the Bad Thing was coming, or at least make Dad aware of Uncle Ted's Badness. But Dad was nowhere in sight.

A curtain moved slightly in an upstairs window of the house, but Thor didn't see it. Peeking through the smallest possible opening in his bedroom window curtains, Brett watched the showdown between Thor and Uncle Ted.

Thor made himself comfortable on the gra.s.s, settling in for what he a.s.sumed would be a long wait. When Uncle Ted came out, Thor would follow him until the Bad Thing showed up, and then he would deal with the Bad Thing. If Uncle Ted managed to chain the Bad Thing to a tree, he would stand guard over it. If the Bad Thing tried to approach the house, he would attack. That was his plan. By Thor's standards, it was pretty elaborate.

Uncle Ted looked out the window again and finally came out onto the landing. He stood there staring at Thor for a moment, then looked over his shoulder at the blackening eastern horizon, where the moon would rise in a matter of minutes. With a look of resignation on his face, he tentatively started down the stairs, pausing briefly on each step to watch Thor's reaction.

Thor sat in place, watching him.

The trip down the stairs seemed to take forever, but Uncle Ted eventually set foot on the pavement, less than three feet from Thor, who sat motionless the whole time.

Slightly emboldened and growing more desperate by the second, Uncle Ted cautiously began walking toward the woods. Thor immediately got up and followed him, maintaining a constant distance of about ten feet between them.

Uncle Ted turned on him angrily with his arm held out straight, pointing to the house.

"Go home!" he snapped.

Bluffing.

Thor ignored him. Uncle Ted might be a part of the Pack, but he hadn't established any clear rank, let alone dominance over Thor. Thor felt no obligation to obey him.

Uncle Ted was beginning to look as nervous as a cornered animal. He stepped toward Thor and slowly, tentatively, reached for his collar. Before his hand came within two feet of Thor's face, Thor's upper lip curled, showing his fangs, and a low growl rumbled from deep in his throat.

Uncle Ted wisely withdrew his hand, as slowly as he'd extended it. He was running out of time.

He had to do something, and fast; the sky was completely dark, and he thought he saw the edge of the moon peeking over the horizon. Where was Tom? Why did he leave the dog out? He took a nervous step toward the house, but Thor quietly snarled an ultimatum: The only way he was entering the house was over Thor's dead body.

Uncle Ted bit his lip and rubbed his chin nervously, then slowly turned and walked back to the garage, trying not to run. If he ran, Thor would chase him. If Thor chased him, he would catch him. He didn't want to think about what would happen next.

But things were going to start happening soon, whether he moved or not. The top of the moon was just visible on the horizon.

Thor followed him to the garage stairs and let him walk up the stairs by himself.

Something odd was happening. Uncle Ted's scent was changing, and he was glancing at his hands and touching his face every few seconds. He reached the apartment door and was about to go inside when the kitchen door opened and Dad stepped onto the back stoop.

"Thor!" Dad called. "C'mon in! Bedtime!"

Thor looked at Dad, then at Uncle Ted. He stood frozen, torn between obedience and instinct.

"THOR!" Dad repeated sternly. His tone of voice broke the deadlock.

Thor's sense of Duty told him to disobey, but in a rare flash of insight, he realized disobedience would land him in the cellar again, totally unable to protect the Pack. He mewled loudly, pitifully, and walked to the house, glancing over his shoulder at the Bad Dog the whole way.

He came within a few feet of the back steps and stopped. Looking straight at Dad, he barked three of four times in an attempt to convey the seriousness of his mission, but Dad showed no sign of understanding.

"Come on!" Dad snapped. More strange behavior from the dog. More cause for concern. He took a deep breath and said, as patiently as possible, "Get in here." He wanted to give the mutt every chance to redeem himself.

Thor knew he was dangerously close to the edge. Whining his dissent, he climbed the stairs into the kitchen and sat down with a disgusted grunt. He looked directly at Dad with accusing eyes. He couldn't see the garage from his position, but he knew what was happening outside.

Dad looked at him oddly and slowly shook his head.

"What's with you?" he said, wishing the dog could answer. He closed the kitchen door with his back to the yard, facing Thor. If he had looked over his shoulder at that moment, he would have seen Uncle Ted running for the woods as if the devil himself were on his tail.

Dad squatted down and scratched the thick fur on the back of Thor's neck. Thor's eyes involuntarily closed from the pleasure of Dad's touch, but he forced them open to look pleadingly at Dad.

"You be a Good Dog, all right?" Dad said as he petted Thor gently. Thor whined at him for a second, then gave up. It was hopeless and he knew it.

Satisfied, Dad got up and went to bed. It was way past his bedtime, and Mom was waiting for him.

Thor sat in the kitchen until Dad was out of sight, then ran to the back door, stood up against it with his paws on the windowsill, and scanned the yard outside.

Uncle Ted was gone and the Bad Thing had arrived. He could feel it. It was out there somewhere, and the Pack was in danger.

His instincts told him he should be with the Pack, but he was at a distinct disadvantage as long as he was inside the house. The Bad Thing was bigger and possibly stronger than himself, and he would need complete freedom of movement to fight it. The house made him vulnerable, and worse yet, it doors separated him from the Pack members. The best way to protect the Pack was to keep the Bad Thing from getting in, and the best way to keep it from getting in was to kill it outside.

But he could only get outside if someone opened the door, and he dared not bark to be let out. He knew what would happen if he barked, and he couldn't afford it. It was an impossible situation, and now it was completely out of his control.

The sense of the Bad Thing's presence was growing stronger. The Bad Thing was coming. It was already closer to the Pack than it had ever been before. Thor darted from window to window, whining and mewling involuntarily, unable to contain his apprehension. He kept his mouth shut, but the sound came through his nose, high-pitched and fluctuating. It sounded like someone torturing a violin.

And the Bad Thing kept coming closer.

A stair creaked in the living room. A short, involuntary woof escaped Thor's mouth as he dashed to the stairs, then relief washed over him; it was Brett.