Missing
by Shannon Kostyal
"Who's a good boy?" The question squeals through the air, the voice unnecessarily high pitched. I wag my tail in a half-hearted display of enthusiasm because it's what she expects of me.
Human-Prime drops down to her haunches and scratches behind my ears, cooing with exaggerated joy. "Oh, you are! Yes you are!"
My tail wags a little faster. The tone is trite and overdone, but I do love a good head scratch. Human-Prime gives a last ear ruffle and then straightens as she pulls out her phone and checks the time. I sit up, watching her. It's either time for her to go wherever it is she goes, or it's time to cart me off to the sharply cold smelling place that I dislike.
She tells me it's for my own good, but invariably I always wind up regretting the trip. Worse, I never know until we arrive that that's where she's taking me. Sometimes she takes me to the great outdoors and I get to lose myself in the glorious earthy scents; dirt, scent markers, crisp breeze, the buzzing of insects. Sometimes I even get to exchange niceties with other dogs. Those are my favorite times.
"Alright, Loki. You behave while I'm gone, ok?" She leans down and scratches behind my ears again, and I respond with a thump-thump-thump of my tail against the floor.
Human-Prime grabs her purse and the keys and skitters out the front door. I hear the click of the lock sliding into place, and let out a sigh.
The shrill tones annoy me, but I miss her the moment she leaves. The boredom always sets in. I wind up barking irritably at the mailman, or the neighbor's kids if I hear them outside. There are days I just lay by the door and wait. It gets lonely. I wish I had a brother or sister to play with. Or even a Human-Second. But, Human-Prime seems set on her semi-solitary ways. I sometimes think we're both orphans of this world.
I wonder what she would do if I actually spoke to her in her language. I'm perfectly capable of it, but I like our quiet sort of understanding. I've watched enough TV with her to know what happens to pets that display unexpected abilities. Cages, wires, and tests. No thank you.
Ah well. Nothing to do about it but wait for her to return. I don't quite know where she goes all day. Work is the term for it. But where? What does it even mean? All I know is she spends more time at work than she does here, with me. With her pack.
I pad over to the door and flop down in a puddle of disappointed boredom. This sucks.
~~~
The sun rose, filling the entryway of the house with a subdued golden light. Blearily I squint up and inhale deeply. I don't smell Human-Prime. She should have been back by now. She's always home before the next sunrise.
A snuffling whimper escapes as I take another hearty sniff at the door. She didn't sneak by me. Her scent has faded a little. Just the remnants of her in the house.
Confused, I scramble to my paws and pad through the house, sniffing my way past floors and furniture as I try to track the strongest scents. All of them are a day old. My belly rumbles, bringing me back to the kitchen. I still have half a bowl of kibble. I don't like to eat it all until Human-Prime is home. She keeps the food up high, and I worry I'll be left without food if I eat it all at once.
I look at the bowl, salivation wetting my muzzle. I'm hungry, but where is Human-Prime?
I head back to the front door, and let out an experimental bark and then wait. No response. Human-Prime isn't here. Settling back down at the front door, I whine. This isn't right. Not right at all.
~~~
I blearily open my eyes to another gold-hued entryway. I must have slept most of the day away again. Confused, I sniff. Human-Prime's scent is a little more subdued. I'm losing track of time. When did she leave?
Whimpering, I walk the house, sniffing for any signs, finding none. I stop in the kitchen and give a longing look to the food bowl, still half-full. I'm hungry, but I can't eat. Not until Human-Prime returns.
Returning to my vigil at the front door, I yip a few times, pausing to listen for any response. I bark again, but again, nothing returns my call.
Despondent, I drop back down to the floor, eyes glued to the door, doing my best to ignore the cramping in my stomach. Where is Human-Prime?
~~~
I hear the sound before I smell anything. The oddness of that slips past. Little playful barks and yips make for a welcome announcement, and I forget for a moment about Human-Prime as I open my eyes.
Utterly delighted, my ears perk up and tail starts wagging rhythmically. I know these pups! Jumping to my paws, I prance happily, and then crouch, barking at my litter-mates.
They greet me with equal excitement and we fall into a puddle of playful yips and growls. It seems like a lifetime since we played together. The ache in my joints is gone, and energy explodes. The years fade away as we reacquaint ourselves. I'm no longer bored. No longer lonely.
Fleetingly, I think of Human-Prime, and something nags at my conscience. When was the last time I saw her?
My brother nips playfully at my ear, drawing my attention back to the game of tag and pounce amongst us all.
Time falls away, and we eventually tire ourselves out. Panting, but content in a way I haven't been in a long time, I sleepily curl into a ball, surrounded by my litter-mates, and succumb to a quiet rest.
~~~
Jena's mouth turned down in consternation as she talked to the police officer. "No... I haven't seen her in about a week or two. Her mail was piling up and that's not like her, you know?"
"Do you know where she works?"
"No... she never spoke much about work. Just an occasional wave as she headed in or out, if we happened to see each other." Jena trailed off.
"Does she have any family? A husband? Children?" Ed jotted down information as he continued to question the woman. Missing person cases were hit-or-miss on validity, but her work had also filed a missing person's report last week. So far, both seemed to be matching up.
"I don't... No, No, I'm pretty sure she was single. No kids. Just the dog-- "Jena's mouth opened in a dawning look of horror.
Ed glanced up at the silence and caught her expression. They both looked at the front door to the house, the piled up mail--most of it junk flyers. He stepped close to the door and knocked. The sound echoed hollowly back.
Peering in through the small circular window in the door, he looked for any sign of people, but the glass blurred details out. Pacing to the side windows, he tried peering through, but shuttered blinds blocked his view.
"Do you see anything?" Jena called out, worry thick in her voice.
Ed sighed, a frustrated, strangled sound. "No. She kept her windows covered. Can't fault her on security practices, but damned inconvenient right now." He shook his head, and glanced back to his car. "Give me a moment."
Jena watched, puzzled, as the cop headed to his car and hopped on the radio. After a few moments of what looked like a grim exchange, she watched him get out and circle to the trunk, pulling out a black bag.
Ed strode back to the house, breach kit in hand. Glancing at the woman, trying to shield the resignation in his eyes, he waved her back with a warning. "I called back for support, but am going in. It would be best if you stepped back - maybe headed back to your house. I don't know what’ll be found."
Jena's mouth dropped into a little "O" of surprise. Her gaze slid from the cop to the neighbor's door, and then back. Part of her was morbidly drawn to watch, but the common sense side was thankfully louder. She nodded once, and stepped back a hesitant step, then another.
Ed waited, pulling his breach kit from the black bag, but pausing until the neighbor finally turned away and headed to her own house.
Sending a silent, useless prayer to the void, he forced entry into the house, and immediately stopped as the sickly sweet scent of decay filled his nostrils. He didn't have to look far. Nearly at his feet, an aged canine lay, from the looks of things, probably deceased at least a week.
He closed his eyes, a thick, choking weight pressing down. He knew without looking that there'd be no sign of the woman in the house. It seemed pretty clear that the dog had laid in vigil at the door, waiting for an owner that never returned.
He stepped backward, into the fresh air and stared up at the clear blue sky. A tendril of cloud whispered in the distance, but otherwise, it was a clear day. An edge of autumn hung in the air, but not enough to have sent the birds flocking yet.
Shoulders heavy, he made his way back to the car to call in the report.