Bow Wow

Lola was excited to go for a ride even if they ended up back where they started.  Shep had been pleading his own case, but Lola's enthusiasm had won the day.  The curious cats paced back and forth keeping their distance from the truck, though there was no chance they would be taken anywhere.  They wouldn't have gone even if it was offered but they always had to know what was going on.  For Lola, there was nothing better than just her and Branson on the seat of the truck with her nose out the window to read the landscape.  When they drove past the garbage dump, its pungent richness made her head spin so when they were well past it she had to curl on the leather seat to process the mixture.  

"Too much for you girl?" Branson asked.

Lola lifted her head and rolled her eyes up at him, not quite sure what he wanted. He reached over and rubbed the top of her head. "We're going to see your sister," he said.  It sounded like a positive thing so she couldn't stop the tip of her tail from twitching.  She put her head down on her paws and her eyes turned up to Branson as he drove.  It was right that she had the truck to herself, just her and Branson. If he gave a lift to friends or family, Lola had to ride in the back.  If she was forced to share the coveted passenger spot with Shep, the white Colorado mountain dog took up more than his share of space. Lately his worsening joints were so bad he had to be lifted into the truck.  He doesn't get as many rides as he used to.  

Branson had been Lola's boss for as long as she could remember.  Shep was older and belonged to Branson's father who was also a boss in his own way.  There were no women around the house, not one with Branson, nor one with his father who with white hair like Shep, must have had a woman once.  Lola didn't remember anything about her own mother.  She had been separated from her and the others as soon as she could eat on her own.  Every once in a while a stray sniff of something would bring a memory of being part of a furry warm bunch tumbling around the floor, play-fighting over a rag, or pushing each other out of the way when food arrived. Lola wasn't the biggest or the smallest of the litter and had somehow ended up on Branson's ranch. He found her useful because she was eager to please and a quick learner. It was rare he got angry with her because he could see that she tried.  Sometimes he stroked her head and called her beautiful and praised her long black coat and the snow-white ruff around her neck, her white sock feet, and her white muzzle with its nose like a blackberry.  The white on her nose shot up between her dark eyes to make a diamond blaze on her forehead.  Though Branson traced it with his finger, she couldn't see it herself.  

She woke to a jolt of the truck when it came to a sudden stop.  She'd been dreaming about a stubborn cow who didn't want to follow the others through the gate and had to be heel-nipped to force her to move. 

"Sorry girl," Branson reached out to stop Lola from falling onto the floor. .

She scrambled to her feet and sniffed at the high slot of air from the almost closed window. Branson lowered it so she could get her head out.  They were in a sea of slowly moving cars, and the air smelled poisonous with hardly anything organic on the wind.

"I heard they called your sister Roxie," Branson said.  Roxie sounded like a name for a horse, not any of those good words like rides or food.  Lola knew to keep her distance from horses.  They were not a reason for happy tail wagging. If she got too close to their feet they could turn nasty.  Lola sat up for the rest of the ride and Branson kept the window open for her.  They passed by a lot of houses, parked cars, and dogs out on leads, which gave her something to bark at to say "Here I am."  The smells weren't as enticing as the dump but it was exciting in its own way because there was movement everywhere.  She was so overwhelmed by the activity in the city, that if Branson gave her an order she would be too distracted to understand it.  

The truck finally pulled to a stop in an area of four-story boxes.  Branson got out his door and put his hand up for Lola to stay where she was.  She watched him cross in front of the truck, her ears as pointed as they ever got, and when he turned back to the passenger door, her tail went crazy.  Before she could jump out the open door, Branson pulled a leash from his back pocket and clipped it to her collar.  She wouldn't be free to explore after all.  He led her across the road to one of the buildings and she kept her nose to the ground sniffing at so many traces of other dogs it was almost as good as the dump.  Branson tugged on her leash when she got carried away sniffing and was about to leave her own mark.  They waited inside a glass cube for the door to open and when they walked across the carpeted lobby, the memory of being there before came back.  If she was right, the metal door they were heading toward was a moving box, something she had not much experience with, but went into when Branson insisted. Being in a moving box with no windows made her queasy, but she knew Branson would look after her.  This time there was yellow tape across the elevator so they took the stairs.  These were made of cement so there weren't nearly the smells as in the carpeted lobby and hallways. 

Lola followed obediently half a pace behind Branson as she had been taught to do.  He only had to say, "Heel," once to remind her where she should be.  When they stopped outside one of a row of doors he ordered her to sit.  She could already hear children inside and the barking of small dogs.  She lowered her head to sniff the space under the door, but couldn't detect anything familiar.  Maybe Roxie had lived there once but she seemed to be gone.  When Branson knocked on the door, it took about one second before the noise behind it interrupted into pandemonium.  The little dogs ran to the door barking, a child screamed in terror and another started crying.  A woman behind the door began shouting and Lola sat back on her haunches as the voice got closer to the door.  Branson held his ground.  Lola would have left but Branson held her on a tight leash at his side.  Waiting for the door to open was like waiting to be run over by a herd of cattle.  It was against all of her instincts to remain still. 

"It's about goddamn time," the woman said when she pulled the door aside.  At her feet were two tan chihuahuas who between their nervous yapping, bared their teeth at Lola.  "Come in," she said, and held the door open for them.  "You kids quit your bellyaching!" she shouted.  "Uncle Branson is here and he brought Lola."

Two preschool boys appeared from the front room, while a little girl continued crying loudly in the living room.  

"Turn it off!" the woman shouted at the direction of the crying, "or I'll give you something to really cry about.  Come in, come in," she said.  "I don't know where Roxie is.  Probably under my bed.  That's where she usually goes."

Branson kept Lola on a tight leash while the chihuahuas reduced their barking to menacing growls and sniffed at Lola's legs and tail.  She leaned against Branson and summoned up what obedient patience she could, because she wanted to snap at the little dogs and let them know who was their superior, even though she was in their house.  Branson pulled Lola to the other side of him in an attempt to get rid of the small dogs, but one of their teeth hit a sensitive spot on Lola's leg and she yelped.

"Trixie!  Tina!  You stop that right this minute," she said, but the dogs continued what they were doing.  "Boys put these babies in the bathroom for a minute.  And go find Roxie for me."

"Sorry if I came at a bad time," Branson said.  "We can do this another day."

"No we can't," the woman said. "If she takes another shit in the corner I'll scream."

"I should probably take her for a walk before we go," Branson said.  "That way there won't be any accidents on the way home. I didn't bring a spare leash.  Have you got hers?"

"Oh honey I don't know.  It must be here somewhere.  Boys!" she shouted, "Where's Roxie's thingy?"  

At that moment, Roxie came trotting into the hall like she was late for a meeting that had started without her.  When she saw Lola she stopped abruptly, not used to seeing other dogs her own size in the apartment.  She put her head down and growled, an instinctive gesture of protection for her mistress and her home.  Lola was held back by her leash but did not feel threatened by the other dog, because her nose already told her there was something familiar about her. Not only did Lola recognize a family smell, but Roxie's grey speckled coat with the black splotches around her eyes, made her think of a chubby puppy she once knew.  Roxie's eyes in their black surrounds were two different colours, one ice blue and the other one gold.  She fixed them on Lola's and moved forward slowly and deliberately, her head lowered and her ears flat like she was challenging a sheep.  Lola had already begun wagging her tail.

"See," the woman said.  "They remember each other."

"Not quite," Branson said.  "Roxie's not sure yet, are you girl?"

It was the first time Branson had turned his attention to the new dog.  He started to crouch down to make friends with Roxie but Lola got squeezed against the door behind him.  To fix this he hooked the handle of Lola's leash over the doorknob and pushed her out in the hallway. She stood with head lowered, listening to his soft voice talking to her sister.   

"I can't do a goddam thing with her," the woman was so loud Lola could barely hear Branson.  "She chewed up my good shoes and half the kids stuffies. She's a pain in the ass.  And those freaky eyes used to be cute.  Now they give me the creeps''.  Branson was still saying sweet things to Roxie as the woman paused to take a breath. 

 "Boys!" she shouted, in a voice like a bad-tempered crow, "Where the hell are you with that goddam dog leash?"  

Lola heard the light voice of a child, and then the woman shouting, "Why the hell didn't you tell me in the first place?  It was hanging here the whole time," she said more quietly to Branson.

Branson opened the apartment door which pulled Lola back inside, but when Branson unhooked her leash she pulled hard on it, trying to run away from the loud woman and her noisy children, not to mention the other dogs who were now yapping from their secure place in the woman's arms. 

"Oh!  Hold on girl," Branson said to Lola.  "We've got company."  He dragged Roxie out the door and she didn't go willingly.  Branson was a stranger and she probably wasn't sure if going with him was a good idea.  The comfort of her chaotic home was preferable to being dragged away by strangers. She pulled hard on her leash trying to stay inside.  "Come Roxie," Branson said.  "We'll go for a walk."  Her ears perked up at the word 'walk' and she trotted into the hallway, looking up expectantly at Branson as the woman slammed the door behind them.  

"Thanks man!" the woman shouted from inside. 

Roxie stopped in her tracks when she noticed Lola was still in the hallway with them. Lola wagged her tail slowly to indicate she wouldn't attack, but Roxie bared her teeth.

"Come on!" Branson yanked Roxie's leash to distract her and set off down the hallway with one of the sisters at each side.  On the way down the stairs, the dogs got too close to each other and there was mutual growling, but Branson barked at them.  "Hey!" he said.  "Cut it out.  You two will have to get along and it may as well start now.."

Lola expected they would go to the truck, set Roxie free, and go home, but when they made a sharp left in front of the building, Branson had to pull Lola back in line because she was leaning toward the truck.  Roxie trotted along obediently with only a sidelong glance at her sister, as if to say, "Where else would we be going?  Stupid country dog who smells like cow's milk. This is the way to the park."

They hadn't gone ten paces before Roxie slowed down on a patch of scrubby grass.  Roxie was a chubby dog. The sisters should have had similar body shapes, but where Lola lived she was free to run and chase squirrels if she wanted, but Roxie hardly ever got out and clearly ate more than she needed.  She was already out of breath already.  

"I have to take a poop if you don't mind," Roxie said. She didn't exactly say it the way people talked, but Lola knew from her body signals, that was what she meant.

"Well get it over with," Lola said, turning her back on Roxie and leaning against one of Branson's legs, which got head rub and neck scratch from him.  "It's just us," she thought.  "Him and me all the way."  Lola would find a way to get rid of the butterball on the other lead.  As she raised her muzzle to rest it on Branson's knee, there was a shift in his posture and she saw Roxie looking at her like, "Who you calling a butterball?  You don't know nothing."   

Lola ignored her and when they started off again, trotted along at Branson's side, her head held high.  She could see Roxie from the corner of her eye and knew she was working hard to keep up.  Branson was a strider, used to covering long distances quickly, and if Roxie couldn't keep up, it was her problem.  As she thought, Roxie stopped at the first fire hydrant they encountered.  Lola was as eager to sniff at it as well but she followed Branson's body language and walked on past.  However, Branson's arm was pulled back because Roxie had come to a dead stop because she insisted on sniffing the scent of other dogs.  She was the heavier of the two so she was like an anchor.  Lola looked up at Branson to tell him that Roxie was faking it so she could catch her breath.  Sure enough, when Roxie dragged the deception on for too long, without even adding a quick spray of her own, Branson pulled her away. 

They got to the dog park, a place where it was apparently allowed to be off leash.  When Branson squatted down to unclip the two of them, Lola took off at a sprint across the park, and Roxie sat down. From across the field, as she ran to explore the boundaries, she kept one eye on Branson and the lump of a dog at his side.  Branson pretended to throw things for her but she didn't move.  Lola was happy to be able to stretch her legs after the truck ride and the cramped visit to Roxie's house.  When she saw Roxie eventually stand up and begin to wander away from Branson, she didn't notice the Doberman who had come into the park from the other side and was running full tilt toward her.  When they collided, Lola yelped and lost her balance.  The Doberman was on her and snarling in her face, but she scrambled to her feet before his huge white teeth got a grip on her.  She ran straight to Branson for protection and because she was a smaller, faster dog she got there before the Doberman.  The bigger dog veered away when he saw Lola sheltering behind her human, but at that moment Roxie decided to chase the Doberman.  

"Roxie!" Branson shouted.  "Hey!  No.  Come back!" She ignored him, and when the Doberman turned to see who was following him, Lola expected the worst. Seeing him turn, Roxie also turned and ran back toward Branson.  Lola moved so she was standing directly behind her boss's legs. Just before Roxie got to them she turned again and rolled onto her back, her short legs waving above her chubby body like she was a bug that couldn't turn over.  The Doberman stopped on top of her and rubbed his drooling muzzle over her chest.  Roxie lay there panting, her tongue hanging out one side of her mouth, while the Doberman stepped off her and pushed his head against her to encourage her to get up. Roxie scrambled to her feet and led the Doberman over to Branson and Roxie. 

"Hi big boy," Branson said.  "I guess you two know each other."

Roxie barked to say yes.  It was the first time Lola had heard her sister's voice, and it sounded very much like hers.  Lola peered at the two dogs from behind Branson.  The Doberman had friendly eyes and he didn't look very fierce with his tongue lolling out but his big teeth were as visible as ever and she wasn't sure she wanted to get close to them. 

"We're friends," Roxie said with her look. "But he's my friend, not yours."

Lola looked away.  She wasn't interested in making friends with anyone in the city.  They weren't trustworthy and behaved in illogical ways. 

Roxie and her Doberman scampered away across the park taking turns bumping into each other.  Roxie almost lost her balance a few times, but her tail was wagging like Lola had yet to see it, so it was clearly all in good fun.

"Go on girl," Branson said.  "We've got a long ride back.  Get out there and run for a bit."

It sounded like an order so Lola ran directly out in front of him going the way he indicated, but she stopped often to look back for further instructions.  That's what they usually did when they worked with cattle. 

"Go on!" he shouted.  "Go!" and he pretended to throw something.  She knew the trick by now, not to chase after the invisible, but she galloped playfully out to the middle of the park.  She had no sooner stopped and looked back when she caught sight of Roxie and the Doberman running toward her. She had no intention of being caught in the open for a confrontation so she sprinted back to Branson.  Because they had come from the side, Lola had not quite made it back to Branson when she felt the Doberman snapping at her tail.  She could hear his teeth as they chomped down and thought at any moment the next thing would be pain.  He managed to bump into her hind quarters and knock her over, but he was distracted by Roxie who had caught up with them. In a second Lola scrambled back to her feet and sprinted back to her master's protection.  When she had almost collided with Branson, the Doberman ran past them and made a wide loop around to meet up with his friend Roxie as she had waddled the last few feet back to Branson. 

"You're such a baby," Roxie said when she could look Lola in the eye.  "He's a puppy and he likes to play. He wouldn't hurt you."

"I'm not so sure," Lola blinked back and didn't move from behind Branson.

         The two of them were clipped back onto their leashes and trotted back up the street toward Roxie's house.  Halfway there they saw a woman approaching with a dog that was halfway between their size and the two yappy chihuahuas. The woman pulled her dog to the side of the pavement as Branson and his two charges passed her, but Lola couldn't resist staring at her dog, if she could call it that. Not only was its short hair fluffed out in an unnaturally curly way, but the dog was blue.  As they passed, the blue dog kept his nose in the air as if he was a rich man encountering two urchins, hardly acknowledging their existence.  It was a male dog but he had a bright blue bow tied to a topknot on his head.  The hair on his legs was shaved bald except for ruffles around his feet. His neck ruff and floppy ears were intact but his hindquarters were indecently bare, and his tail had been shaved almost to the tip where a blue pom pom at the end showed no emotion.  He smelled like perfume and shampoo. 

"Poor guy," Roxie said, not looking back.  "He's the joke of the neighbourhood.  He's not friendly either.  Doesn't bark.  If you get too close he'll pee on you."

When they got back to the buildings where Roxie came from she pulled on her leash to go back inside.  

"No you don't," Branson said.  "You're coming with us."

As he led the two dogs across the road to the truck, Lola was happy they would be leaving this strange place.  She'd hop into the front with Branson, they'd drive away and Roxie would be another faint memory, but that's not what happened.  Branson hooked Lola's lead onto the rear view mirror, opened the passenger door and lifted Roxie onto the front seat of the truck.  When he unhooked Lola, she had a sudden fear she had been replaced and would be left behind at Roxie's house.  She bowed her head as if to say, "Please don't do this."

"Come on girl," he said.  "You have to ride in the back.  We don't know your sister well enough that she won't jump out at the first stop sign."

Lola used the rear bumper of the truck as she always did to jump into the back.  The box was bare except for a couple of hay bales, so she sat beside one of those, putting on her most dejected and abandoned look, but it didn't change Branson's mind.  She fell asleep on the way, dreaming about being confined to the barn while another dog, uncannily similar to Roxie was allowed free range of the house and a place in front of the living room fire.

Lola woke up as soon as the truck slowed down and turned onto the dirt road.  This was air she knew and it told her home was not far away.  She ran from side to side of the truck box taking in the smells, checking for new ones, and wagging her tail, content to be close to her home territory.  And she was hungry.  When they pulled up in front of their house she jumped out of the back even though she had not been told to do so, but she had been too excited to contain herself. Shep hobbled over to the truck to meet them and Branson opened the passenger door to let Roxie out but she stayed where she was.  Perhaps it was too high from the ground for her and she was so heavy she might break a leg if she tried it. It was obvious she hadn't been in a truck before because she didn't know she could hop onto the floor first, which would shorten the distance to the ground.  Instead she just looked helplessly at Branson until he lifted her out and put her on the ground like she was a baby pig.  It would have humiliated Lola to be coddled like that unless she was feeling sick, but Roxie took it as her right, as if she were a lap dog whose every wish should be catered to.  Shep backed off and growled at Roxie who stood on the spot where she had been deposited.  Lola crept forward to greet her, to give her a good sniff.  They hadn't exactly got to know each other well in the city. Lola was barely in touching distance when Roxie bared her teeth and snarled.   

"Hey now," Branson said, directing his attention to Roxie.  "You'd better get used to these guys.

Roxie gave Branson one of those puppy looks that meant "You're the boss, get me out of here," and she glanced back at the seat of the truck, as if it would take her back to where she came from. Rather than making friends, Roxie sniffed the tires of the truck, lifted her head toward the distant breeze, and tried to ignore Shep and Lola who were following her, their noses to the ground.  

When Branson's father opened the front door of the house, the two resident canines pushed him aside, trying to be the first one in. Roxie had followed Branson to the front door, her tail not showing any expression.  As she stopped to sniff the threshold, anyone would think she was being lured to her death.  

It was food that eventually convinced her to come inside. There was nothing like the sound of a can opener to make even a jaded city dog's mouth water.  Lola and Shep had their own bowls and corners of the kitchen to eat in.  Shep needed room around his bowl because as he ate he circled around it, so if Lola was too close he'd step on her like she was an inconvenient obstacle that made his dining experience difficult.  Lola was quiet and diligent, finishing what was given to her without dropping it all over the floor.  She was happy to see that Roxie ate the same way.  When a bowl was put down in front of her she dutifully consumed it all.  Though Roxie's mouth was intent on her food, her eyes darted from side to side as if an attack on her dinner was imminent. 

The evening Roxie arrived, Lola and Shep stretched out on the living room floor in their favourite places, Shep on the terracotta tile because he was always overheated, and Lola with her nose pointed at the front door in case something new drifted in.  Roxie hung around under the kitchen table, nervous about stepping on anyone's territory, until Branson dragged her by the collar up onto the sofa to sit with him.  Shep and Lola were allowed up there on special occasions and never for very long, but if Branson and his father both left the house and shut the dogs inside, the sofa was Lola's. She took his place and kept her ears tuned for his return.  

Shep spent his nights in his doghouse just outside the front door because not only was it cooler, but it was the right place for him as the house's original guardian.  Lola had her own small house on the opposite side of the door, which was just as well because half the time Shep didn't wake up for intruders until Lola started barking.  When the weather was cold and the snow was deep, the dogs got to sleep indoors but for the rest of the year they stayed in their straw padded dog-houses. When Roxie arrived, Branson kept her in the house at night while he trained her.  She may not have realized she was being trained, and thought it was all about being the master's new favourite.  The look she gave Lola whenever she trotted past on Branson's heels, said, "He's mine now."  Though Branson's father had set up Roxie in one of Shep's puppy doghouses, she wouldn't stay there and after a few nights of keeping everyone awake with her crying and barking at shadows, she was allowed to spend her nights indoors.

Roxie didn't adapt easily to country life.  There was a lot she didn't know and sometimes she did stupid things.  More than once, Branson and Lola had to set off in search of her because she had gone chasing after a gopher, got distracted by the prospect of digging one out of its burrow, and lost all sense of where she was.  They would usually come across her standing by the side of the road looking confused about which way to go.  It would take a few minutes of Branson calling her before she would approach him, and then it was crazy tail wagging, and jumping up.  Lola watched this from the front seat of the truck thinking what a stupid dog she was.  Her own sister.  As a form of punishment Branson made Roxie ride in the back of the truck to atone for her thoughtlessness and Lola got to ride home in the front seat with Branson.

One day when Branson had gone into town and left his father and the two dogs to guard the ranch, Lola spotted movement at the edge of the front field over by the treeline.  Some sort of small creature was moving back and forth at the edge of the forest, making itself busy, and staying mostly out of sight except for the swaying of its humped back as it went about its business.  Lola ran out into the field to investigate and barked a few times.  Roxie followed her.  They were halfway across the field when Lola recognized the hump on the animal as a porcupine.  She stopped, put her nose closer to the ground and approached slowly like she was stalking the animal.  A memory of pain warned her not to get too close. Roxie was still bounding along behind her enjoying what she thought was a play adventure, when she noticed the porcupine for the first time.  She stopped, lifted her head and moved her ears to hear better.  The porcupine huffled and scratched at some tender roots and seemed not to have noticed the dog's approach.  When the spiky animal moved again, Roxie catapulted past Lola, heading straight for the porcupine. Lola barked a few times to alert both the animal and to alert Roxie to the danger. Porcupines can't run as fast as dogs, and if Roxie wasn't careful she would get something she wasn't expecting.  The porcupine looked around and must have seen the rolling boulder that was Roxie, because it immediately turned its back on the dogs and puffed out its quills into a fan shape. Lola was close enough to hear the quills rattle a warning, but for Roxie this was like a lure that led her right up to it as if it was daring her to pounce on it. Expecting the porcupine to run away, Roxie leapt toward it, expecting to knock it over, but instead it backed into her chest and face.  She yelped loudly, yipped and kayayed in pain.  The porcupine set its path for the forest, waddling away from the dogs.  Angry because it was escaping, Roxie lunged at it again but got even more pain in her face and a beard of quills that at their entry points were showing signs of blood.  She pawed at her face, which only made it worse.  Lola kept her distance so she wouldn't pick up any of the spines.  Hoping to help Roxie, she trotted back toward the ranch house, because this was something Branson or his father would have to deal with.  Roxie followed her, but didn't run as she stopped every now and to try to pull quills out of her legs, but that only made the ones in her face hurt more.  When she was close enough to the house to be heard, Lola barked urgently and repeatedly.  She ran to the front door to bark and scratched until someone came.  It was Branson's father.

"What's the matter Lola?" he asked.

She barked again to tell him that Roxie was in trouble and made feinting runs toward the field. It didn't take him long, even with his bad eyesight, to notice Roxie as she walked toward them.  "What's she got into now?"

Lola barked as if to agree that Roxie was indeed the problem. With her head down and ears lowered, she crept onto the driveway and approached them with her head lowered, her ears down, looking as sorry for herself as possible.  "Oh, damn it to hell," the old man said. "I guess you had to learn sometime, but not now when Branson's out."

Roxie continued her whining punctured by the occasional yelp, but she wouldn't stay still to let the old man touch her.  "You've got too many for me," he fretted. "We need the vet."

He hurried back to the house and closed the door, leaving the dogs out front to wait.  Roxie continued her pitiful whining and tried to lie down to catch her breath, but the best she could do was to sit and keep the layers of quills that cascaded down her legs, from digging further in.  She panted like she had run all the way back from the city.  Lola and Roxie waited dutifully as dusk arrived.  No veterinarian showed up and the old man didn't come back out to check on them or to take them anywhere.  It was dark by the time Banson's truck rolled up, and Lola ran to greet him.  Roxie had found a way to lie on her side by then, and lifted her bearded muzzle when she heard Branson's voice.   He must have seen the state she was in, because before he approached her he started calling for his father.  "Dad!  Dad!  Get out here!"  The house was silent and dark.  Branson marched to the front door, opened it and switched on the outside light.  He turned back to see Roxie trying to get to her feet.  "Dad!" he called again.  "Where the hell are you?"

Lola was curious too and ran past Branson toward the kitchen.  As soon as the kitchen light was snapped on, they both stopped and stared.  The old man was lying on the floor on his back.  As Lola crept toward the old man and felt no warmth from him.  A telephone receiver on a long cord was draped across his chest and was beeping in his outstretched hand.  

"Dad?  Dad?" Branson knelt beside the old man and took one of his hands in his, but soon put it down.  "Jesus," he said.  "What the hell happened?"

There was no answer of course, and Lola wandered out to the front of the house again to see if Roxie was still breathing.  Although she hadn't got herself up to come into the house, she managed to lift her head and give Lola a look that would have registered as panic if she was able to move and do anything about it.

"Your fault." Lola turned away and went back to the kitchen to keep Branson company while he talked on the phone.  The excitement had woken Shep who had come in to lie on the kitchen floor near the lifeless body, his big eyes fixed on Branson as if asking when he would reanimate bring his alpha master.

When Branson had finished with his calls he stood in the kitchen as if paralyzed, looking down at his lifeless father.  Roxie had crept in the front door and could be heard whimpering in the hallway.  The old man on the floor didn't warm up.  

Lola ran outside when few vehicles arrived and Shep stayed as close to his master as he could, until he too was sent out.  Roxie was pinned down long enough to give her something that made her sleep so finally she had stopped her whining.  Shep and Lola waited by the front door until the company appeared from inside carrying a bag that must have had the old man inside because Shep limped out to their van alongside it. Back in the house, the kitchen was empty and someone had made a bed on the living room floor for the still unconscious Roxie. Lola curled up with Shep that night to keep him company in his roomy doghouse because he had woken her with his howling. 

Lola and Shep were told off if they got too close to Roxie and she growled at them.  She recovered from her trauma, but while the other dogs were sent back to their respective houses, Roxie got to sleep in the house every night.  She slowly got better but wasn't banished for her stupidity.  Instead Branson paid more attention to her than to Lola, who remained loyal and carried out whatever tasks she was assigned with her usual efficiency.  Roxie always got to ride in the front seat of the truck while Lola got the back, just because Roxie couldn't be trusted not to jump out.  Although Lola was as fiercely loyal to Branson as it was possible to be, she was shoved to the side more and more as the still chubby Roxie was given all the attention.  Lola would get a pat on the head and Roxie would get full hugs.  

When the aspen leaves quivered yellow against a cobalt sky, Shep stopped eating.  His heart was broken without his old master around.  When he died, Branson took away his doghouse and replaced it with a smaller one that Roxie was coached into, but after she spent interminable nights crying like an abandoned baby, she was allowed to stay permanently indoors. Lola tried not to be jealous because Branson didn't like that and he shouted at her if she snapped at Roxie.  She didn't understand what she had done wrong to be pushed out of her place in Branson's heart.  Roxie behaved like Lola didn't exist and was as dumb as a cow.  She threw out her superior sentiments from Branson's side, knowing she was protected as long as she stuck close to him.  She never did learn to herd other animals, which for a dog like her should have been instinct, and Branson didn't push her.  Lola could do the work.  Roxie just had to stare up at Branson with her strange eyes and it was like he was bewitched.   

The next time they were in the city, Lola thought about jumping out of the back of the truck and running off to find a new master to teach her the city tricks that had worked so well for Roxie.  Doing her tasks well and being devoted to her master hadn't helped her stay the beta to Branson's alpha.  It was as if he thought of her as an inferior creature, not far ahead of the horses.  She needed someone who would give her the love she needed now that her beloved Branson had betrayed her.