Chapter Three

He’s not moving. His tongue hangs out of his mouth, eyes still bulging, chest heaving, but he’s not moving. His eyes are stuck, staring at Tess. I can’t see her face, but I can only imagine the terror that she must be feeling. I don’t know why he’s not moving, but this peace can’t last long. With him, it never does.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself, dear, so we can get this all sorted out?” Calm, controlled. The complete opposite of my frenzied thoughts. “My name’s Tess—I’ve heard a little about you, you know.”

“Have you?” It’s not a growl, not a threat. His words are coated in curiosity as he takes a step forwards.

I hear a warning hiss behind me alongside the quiet puncturing of fabric with claws, but he has my full attention.

“I’m… I’m Baxter, or that’s what the old man yells at me. Never had a name before that.”

“This is what happens when you let the house go to the dogs.” Icy words cut through the air, ruining the friendly atmosphere of the conversation. I turn to see that Ruby has jumped down, prowling towards Baxter with malice in her eyes. “First one, now another. Joseph nowhere to be seen. How many more signs do you need, Shadow?” But she’s not looking at me—her tail is brushing against the ground, body hunched down. “I can’t let them take over.”

“Dear, that’s the last thing I want to do, you know, and you haven’t given poor Baxter a chance.” It’s not accusing, exactly, and it’s not an argumentative tone.

Tess is speaking calmly in the face of anger and spite as if it doesn’t even bother her. Maybe it doesn’t—maybe she’s seen and heard too much to be bothered by Ruby’s troubling views.

“The pup’s all skin and bones, see? I can hardly imagine that he wants to disrupt this little tribe too much.”

My mind barely registers the unusual word ‘pup’ for such a huge dog coming from Tess’ tongue; I’m stuck on her later words. She’s right. I’ve noticed it, but not been able to give it a second thought with all the chaos going on.

He hasn’t been fed enough—he can’t have been looked after properly, because that isn’t the body of a healthy dog. There is energy, sure, the boundless energy of youth and curiosity, but that’s where his health starts and stops. Patches of his fur, thin as it is, are becoming thinner still and every rib presses against his skin as if trying to escape. This isn’t right. This can’t be the monster that we’ve feared for so long.

But, at the same time, it has to be.

“Well, if he’s not evil,” I almost hiss at Ruby’s choice of words, now that I know the state that Baxter is in, “then he’ll have no problem telling us where Joseph is, will he? If it wasn’t Tess and it wasn’t us, then he’s the only suspect left!”

“The old man? Is he called Joseph?” Somehow completely skipping over Ruby’s unkindness (maybe it’s a dog thing?), Baxter latches onto her last point, sitting down and tilting his head to the side. “I heard the door, late. Maybe a car, outside? I couldn’t tell—I thought he’d feed me, because he does when he’s up late, but he never came in. Only one door—bang, shut, and that was it. Oh, and the car. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” There’s less anger in her words, but more suspicion. I look down and see Sophia trembling, as Ruby nears Baxter, her tail cautiously sweeping from side to side. “And you were in the cupboard all night?”

“The cupboard? Oh! My room!” Proud of himself, for some reason, Baxter keeps thudding his tail against the ground, sending wrappers and bits of cardboard flying everywhere. “Yeah, all night, all day. I went out last night, and we went to the park, then I saw the dog from down the street—she’s called Mist or something, something silly, Misty? She’s nice, and-”

“Can we get to the point?” Now it’s just short, sharp words. Tired words. She’s gone from emotion to emotion, finally finding frustration. Baxter only knows a little more than we do, and his information doesn’t really help us at all. “Do you know anything else?”

“Nope!”

And that’s it. Ruby looks up to me, but I don’t have any answers—the best I can manage is a comforting look which she sighs at, moving back to Sapphire’s side. Sophia mewls up at me, wordless noises that could mean ‘food’ or ‘scary dog, help’, and I try to comfort her, asking her slowly to use her words as Tess and Baxter begin another conversation.

Trying to make sure that Sophia is brought up as her mother would’ve wanted is always a challenge, but with Joseph gone and our world turning upside down… life’s making it really difficult for me to try and do the right thing.

But I’m always going to be here for her—I need to be the one constant thing she can depend on. Letting her swat my paw, teasing the wild fur, and waiting for her to be able to say what she needs, I look across the room again. Ruby and Sapphire are silent, Ruby’s glare not leaving Baxter. Both dogs are talking about ‘Misty’, the poor dog down the road who probably has no idea that Baxter’s mind is currently focused on her.

There’s still anxiety trembling in the back of my head, but a larger part of me tries to stay calm and logical. Joseph could return at any moment, with his big coat and some cans of cat food in a plastic bag. I guess I’ve just been by his side for so long that this change in routine is scary and making me leap to all sorts of conclusions. I’ve got to stay positive, if only for Sophia.

“Crazy dog.” Finally, she speaks, and I can only smile at the comment. ‘Crazy dog’ well and truly describes Baxter, better than any other words I can think of. Nodding, I lower my head to her, looking into her eyes.

“Baxter is crazy,” I can sense his ears perking up at the sound of his name as I continue speaking, “but he’s a good dog. You shouldn’t be scared of him, Sophia, but it’s okay if you feel a little nervous. That’s normal.”

She’s already lost interest, wandering towards the TV and testing her little claws on the stand, but I think I got my point across. Tess plods over to me, Baxter close behind her, and I am included in the conversation about ‘Misty’ for a little while.

As Baxter yaps on and on about the dog, though, I can’t help but think that Tess wants to talk about something else. There’s something about the way that she keeps glancing at me, how she doesn’t seem focused on Baxter at all, that seems a little off. Hesitant, I bring up my thoughts.

“Tess, is there anything you want to talk about?” Instantly, I regret my choice of words, as Baxter sits down with a resounding thud, head lowering a little.

He thinks he’s done something wrong by not realising that Tess wants to speak, and his ears droop. Unsure of what to say, I turn to the older dog. She shakes her head slowly.

“Not much, dear. Only…” here, she trails off, but I wait for her to continue, tilting my head a little in encouragement. “Sophia is such a small kitten, and you seem to act as a wonderful father figure to her. But, I was wondering…”

“I’m not her father,” lowering my voice a little, I let her leave the rest of her sentence unsaid. I know what she means. “But I knew her mother and promised to look after her when she got too sick to cope. Took the rest of the litter to the shelter, but Sophia was the runt, the smallest kitten. She stayed with her mother for as long as she could and I tried to keep her safe after that, hoping I could give her a home with me. One kitten is a lot less work than a whole litter, you know, for Joseph.”

Tess rests her head on her front legs, tired interest in her eyes. Baxter sits patiently, tail wagging.

“When I turned up with a new kitten for him to love,” I have to smile at the memory, so warm and fuzzy in my mind, “he took her in without a problem. I’d never been so relieved in my life.”

“It’s a shame, about her mother,” Tess murmurs and I agree with a nod, respecting how she keeps a low tone of voice while Sophia absent-mindedly continues her destruction of the TV stand. “But I think you did a good thing, dear, I really do. I hope her brothers and sisters found good homes.”

“So do I, Tess,” I look to the small kitten, my tail drifting over the floor behind me, glad that I can keep her safe during such a strange time, “so do I.”