Home Is Where Your Bark Is

Chapter 11

Jake headed up the interior stairs to his condo for the second time in minutes, loaded down with an extra-large crate and a deluxe, memory foam dog bed and wondered if Seven had gotten into anything during his short trip to the car for the rest of the stuff. Given the way Seven’s world had been shaken up so dramatically in the last twenty-four hours, the dog had been relatively well behaved in the mega-sized pet store as Jake had filled up a jumbo cart to overflowing with arguably as many nonessentials as essentials. Seven had followed along at the far reach of the leash, sniffing at various items, occasionally attempting to run off with a few, and appearing dejected when the leash prevented him from doing so.

With a bit of luck, the balls, tug toys, ropes, antlers, and variety of other chews that had made the cut today would prove more attractive than Jake’s shoes or the legs of his coffee table.

As Jake pushed open the door and stepped in, Seven pounced to his feet, tail tucked and head dipped, the antler Jake had just handed him locked in his jaws. “Good boy, Seven. It’s your antler. You can chew it all day long, if you want.”

Jake left the door ajar as he dropped the fluffy bed on the floor and set the box containing the crate against the wall. It had been a packed day. After leaving Jenna’s, he’d spent an hour on the phone talking to his car insurance company, picked up a rental—a base model Ford Edge that had him missing his Jeep but was better than Ubering or inconveniencing Sheila by borrowing her car any more than necessary—and headed to his office with Seven in tow. His coworkers had ogled over the dog while Jake packed up a few items he’d need access to when working from home the next few days.

Doubling back to shut the door, Jake pulled his phone from his back pocket. No sense pretending he wasn’t hoping to spy a call or text from Jenna, but he found nothing more than a single text from his brother that Jake would respond to in a bit. On the bright side, the deluge of texts that had started coming in from Alyssa this morning—some pointed and angry, others seeming to offer space for Jake to rescind last night’s declaration—had waned over the last several hours. This meant it was time to devote five or ten minutes to composing a reply that was empathetic but left no room for her to hope for reconciliation.

He was headed for the kitchen when it dawned on him how silent Seven had become. No more sounds of antler gnawing. Looking around, Jake realized the dog was nowhere to be seen. Earlier, Jake had shut both his bedroom and office doors because he wasn’t sure how potty trained Seven was. Jake walked around the couch, peering under the coffee table, and even jogged down the short hallway to peer into the bathroom.

“The door!” Jogging over, Jake threw open his exterior condo door. Sure enough, Seven was at the bottom of the steps, lying on the small stoop, antler lodged between his front paws, chewing contentedly, and gazing out the exterior glass door. “Man, you’re lightning fast.” Jake clapped against his thigh. “Come on, boy. No going outside, and no escaping out that door when the next person walks through it. The last thing we need is you running free along the streets of Chicago.”

Seven raised his head and peered up the stairs, his folded-at-the-tip black ears pricked forward in attention. His tail flicked once, and Jake clapped his thigh a second time. “Let’s go, Seven. Come on.”

No such luck. Jake jogged down the stairs two at time, and it must’ve been too fast for Seven’s comfort. The dog leaped to his feet and backed into the corner of the small entryway, his antler dangling like a cigarette, the hair on the back of his neck rising.

Jake sank onto his heels. “I’m not going to take that from you, buddy, and I’m definitely not going to hurt you.” Seven was intelligent. It was easy to spot in the sharpness of his gaze. Jake motioned up the stairs. “Come on. Upstairs. Let’s go.”

Still holding the antler like a cigarette, Seven looked between Jake and the stairs but didn’t move. When Jake reached for his collar, Seven took off in a flash, bounding up the stairs in a few strides and in through the open apartment door. “And here I figured we’d made some progress after that moment in the yard earlier.”

Upstairs—after shutting the door behind him—Jake went to work cutting off tags and opening packages. “You know, my brother and I didn’t get this much stuff under the tree at Christmas. Combined.” He squeezed the squeaker inside a nylon tug toy, and Seven perked instantly, dropping the antler and sitting up at attention. “ Oh yeah , the infamous squeaky toy. Canine catnip. Wanna play?”

Seven’s tail flicked back and forth hopefully, and Jake squeezed the toy again, dangling it Seven’s way. Seven trotted in a half circle around Jake, eyeing the tug toy. After a little, he dove in, clearly wanting to grab it and dash off, but Jake held firm to the other end, hoping to entice him into play. Seven wasn’t having it. Letting go, he dashed to the far end of the room and sank onto his haunches, staring at Jake expectantly.

“Hey, don’t look so dejected, will you?” Jake squeezed it again. “Come on. Come play with me. A couple seconds of solid play, and it’s yours.”

Jake beckoned him over with a few more squeaks and calm verbal encouragement, but Seven didn’t take the bait. After a few minutes, Jake switched tactics and grabbed a tennis ball. The first bounce got Seven off his haunches, and each bounce after that had him prancing closer and closer, tail raised in excitement. Before long, Seven was so amped up, he was getting as much lift as a bull in a rodeo chute. “Come on, Seven. Let’s play.”

Quick as a flash of lightning, Seven dove in and stole the ball midbounce, then skittered away, practically slipping on the hardwood floors, tail tucked. “That’s alright. We’ve got more.”

While Seven chewed on that ball, Jake pulled out a second one from the supposedly indestructible storage basket that would be holding Seven’s multitude of toys and began bouncing that one. After a while, they fell into a pattern of sorts, Seven dashing in and stealing the tennis ball Jake was bouncing, and Jake starting up again after confiscating the abandoned one.

He talked the whole time, careful not to let too much energy creep into his tone. If he wanted Seven to learn anything about him, it was that he could be trusted. “This is what you call positive interaction, bud. Something tells me you haven’t had too terribly much of it. But you might as well get used to it because what you don’t know is that for the next week or so, when it comes to dinner and treats, they’re being served straight from my hands. Before you know it, you’ll cuddle right up to be petted, I bet.”

The next time Seven dashed in to steal the ball, Jake had a split-second opportunity to offer a single pat on Seven’s shoulder blade. Letting out a high-pitched yip, Seven dashed to the other side of the room and stared at him, the tennis ball falling abandoned onto the hardwood floor.

Jake frowned. “Was that really so bad?”

Seven barked and flicked his tail.

“Well, maybe it’ll take a bit longer than a week, but I’ll tell you right now, I won’t give up on you, Seven. Somebody’s got to be in your corner, and it might as well be me.”