Seth and the dog

Seth whipped around. The door was still open, and light from the garage revealed a mass of white dreadlocks approaching down the carpeted hall. At first Seth thought it was a monster. Then he realized it was a huge dog with such thick cords of fur that one of its ancestors must have been a mop. Seth did not know how the animal could see, it had so much hair dangling in its eyes. The growls continued rumbling, deep and steady, the kind of sound that meant at any second the dog might make a violent charge.


Seth had to reach a quick decision. He could probably leap out the door and shut it behind him before the dog reached him. But that would be the end of going after the statue. Maybe it would serve Errol right, for carrying out such lousy reconnaissance.


Then again, he was holding a dog biscuit. Surely the statue would not need the whole thing. "Sit," Seth commanded, calmly but firmly, extending his hand palm outward.41 The dog grew silent and stopped advancing. "That's a good dog," Seth said, trying to exude confidence.


He had heard that dogs could sense fear. "Now sit," he ordered, repeating the gesture.


The dog sat, its shaggy head higher than Seth's waist.


Seth snapped the biscuit in two and tossed half to the dog.


The canine caught the biscuit on the fly. Seth had no idea how it saw the treat coming through all that fur.


Seth approached the dog and let it sniff his hand. A warm tongue caressed his palm, and Seth rubbed the top of the animal's head. "You're a good boy," Seth said in his special voice reserved for babies and animals. "You're not going to eat me, right?"

Chapter 3