Reign of Terrier Read online

  Tessa shook her head, trying to clear it of the thought. She was projecting, anthropomorphizing, again. Reading more into a dog’s reaction than she should reasonably be able to extrapolate.

  Probably Princess was weird with most people and only not with her because she was her dog. Her being odd around Eliza didn’t actually mean anything about Eliza — it meant far more about Princess.

  But Tessa couldn’t quite shake the thought away entirely. It just wouldn’t go.

  She got out of bed, ruffled her hair a bit the way that woke her up with a few quick scratches to her scalp, and wandered over to the dresser. “What do you want to do today, puppy?”

  Princess thumped her tail against the bed.

  “Yeah? Go play outside?” It was cloudy but not precipitating, and when she scrolled through a weather app, it looked like it was going to stay that way all weekend. “That sounds good.”

  Tessa could use a walk and some playing with Princess after all that. Her stomach felt like freshly stirred soup.

  She dressed quickly, then, after a quick breakfast of toast for herself and a scoop of dog food for Princess, she leashed her, and they left the house for the little dog park a few blocks away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Princess could feel the strange mood Tessa was in this morning. She’d woken up with nerves so intense that Princess had to crawl into her arms and nearly lie across her to calm them, and the conversation she couldn’t quite hear on that little human device Tessa carried had only done something that much worse to her mood. There was a certain wetness in her eyes as she put on the leash and took them outside, past the little patch of grass where she’d taken her out to every other time, and down the uneven sidewalk.

  It was a chilly day, but still sunny, and they weren’t the only human-dog duo out on the sidewalks. They kept to themselves, though, avoiding too much contact with the other people and dogs that passed them. Princess could feel with each stranger the way Tessa’s fingers tightened around her lead, and the smell of her fear spiked, so she kept tight to her leg when they came toward them, ready to fend off anyone who got too close and made Tessa afraid.

  It was them against the world now, and she counted on Princess to do her part in protecting her just as she did to protect her back.

  They didn’t walk very far — down the street a ways, then turning off onto a paved path that wasn’t up against any street and instead meandered along a half-frozen, mud-brown stream — before Tessa veered off all the paths and toward another section of fence, this one much larger than the shelter yard. There were some strange objects inside the fence: an elevated wooden plank, some thin plastic poles, round rubber tires suspended between thick metal posts.

  Curious, the things some humans used to decorate their spaces. But they all looked like something that might be fun to climb around on.

  The sign near the gate to the fenced-in area said something about beavers. Princess had never seen a beaver, and she wondered if that’s what the fencing was for, to keep in beavers.

  The idea excited her. Beavers were probably good for chasing.

  Tessa took off the lead once they were shut inside the fence, and for a few minutes, Princess stuck by her side as they circled the area. Lots of dogs came here — she could smell them across every inch of the ground and the weird structures. All of them seemed friendly enough, but she was still glad that they had the space to themselves because she couldn’t investigate the structures properly if she had to be worried about watching her back and protecting Tessa from other dogs.

  And the structures were indeed worth investigating. All of them were just as covered as the ground was with the fresh and not-so-fresh smells of other dogs and people, and they all seemed to be placed in such a way as to beg for further inspection. The tire especially, suspended at chest height to a slightly taller dog than Princess, was very interesting. When she put her paws on it to get a better look at the inside of the rubber circle, the bottom swayed slightly under the pressure of her feet.

  Hmm…

  She could feel Tessa watching her, a grin on her face and eyes sparkling with a curious sort of amusement, and a bit of the mood that clung to her skin since they woke up eased. This was how she was supposed to be — smiling, happy, interested in the things around her. This was how Tessa was best. This was what Princess was here in this world to protect, and it did them both good to feel the tension of this morning drop away as if it had never been.

  After a few moments standing half-propped by the tire, Tessa came over and crouched down on the far side of the circle. “C’mon, Princess,” she said in a tone that was both encouraging and teasing. “Jump.”

  She did. The jump wasn’t at all graceful, more of a scrabble through the inner walls of the tire, but the smile it pulled from Tessa’s lips, the way she laughed and rubbed Princess’ ears, as if she had done something truly remarkable, made her want to try it again.

  The second attempt was more what Tessa was expecting: a proper jump, not scraping her belly and getting stuck halfway through the tire. Her tail was wagging without her explicit permission, and when Princess sprang back through the circle a third time, now directly into Tessa’s open arms, she realized she was having fun.

  An odd concept, having fun, but one that she’d seen other dogs do, and it always looked like it was something worth trying. And indeed, it was … well, fun.

  After the tire, they went over to the elevated plank, which was about as high as Tessa’s belly — not very high, considering the way humans built buildings that scraped the clouds, but far enough off the ground that it needed a ramp on either side. Tessa encouraged Princess onto the ramp with her fingers, waving them teasingly in front of her nose until she took the necessary steps forward toward them, and that way, she led her up one ramp, across the plank, and down the other side.

  And, as with the tire, it was fun. There was a certain amount of concentration that it took to stay on the plank without tipping down on either side, a certain thrill with being up there and knowing that one wrong step could make her fall.

  Princess liked it.

  The next thing was more complicated. The poles were thin and strangely bendy, not up for supporting weight and far too high to jump over. Tessa stood on one side of the short line of them and teased Princess forward with her fingers again, this time weaving her between one pole and the next.

  Oh!

  It took a few tries for her to understand what, exactly, was being asked of her, what this toy was meant to do, but once she did understand, it was simple enough. Princess was supposed to weave between one pole and the next, alternating which side she passed them on, and then, based on how Tessa sped up from a slow walk to a slow jog, she was supposed to do it while running.

  They were both panting and grinning like fools by the third run through the poles. Tessa dropped down to her knees again and rubbed Princess’ head enthusiastically, obviously pleased with how she’d done, and she basked in her approval.

  “That looks like fun.”

  An unfamiliar male voice made Tessa freeze. Princess turned and found herself staring at a wall of short brown fur: a large, stranger dog coming toward them, his tail low and stiff, wagging only a little at the tip, his ears rigidly forward.

  Princess growled a warning. Come no closer.

  He didn’t listen. Even his legs were stiff, the muscles there coiled tight and preparing to pounce.

  But she was faster. Before he’d even had the chance to realize what she was doing, Princess leaped at him and sunk her teeth into the back of his neck.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tessa leaped up from the crouch she’d been in, but for a moment that was far too long, even though it lasted only two quick heartbeats, she could only stare dumbly down at the sight of Princess clinging with her teeth into the other dog’s neck. He yelped and shook his head, trying to dislodge her, but she wouldn’t let go.

  The man — the other dog’s owner, presumably — raced forward
from where he’d been standing, a few steps back from his unleashed dog, and his movement startled Tessa into action as well.

  “Princess! Princess, no!” she yelled over the sound of snarling and reached out to grab her, by the hips, something deep in her brain reminded her.

  She’d never broken up a dog fight, but it was something that had been covered at one point during her studying, because it was probably a useful skill for a tech to have, just in case.

  Princess let go of the other dog to whirl on her, teeth snapping. The man approached his own dog, yanking him away at the same moment.

  “Shh, shh,” Tessa hissed at Princess, watching as the blind fear leaked from her eyes, recognition taking its place. “It’s all right. You’re all right.”

  She whimpered and pressed into her hands; Tessa picked her up and turned toward the other man.

  “I’m so sorry! I’m so, so sorry! Is he okay?”

  The man ran his hands over the other dog, obviously checking for injury beyond the two pinpricks of blood welling up where Princess must’ve gotten her fangs in. He glanced up.

  Princess snarled back.

  Tessa pressed her face into Princess’ chest, away from the sight of the others. She was shaking harder than she’d ever felt an animal tremble, and her heart was going as fast as a hummingbird’s wings.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. Tessa wanted to check over the other dog herself, but she didn’t dare put Princess down to free her hands. “Is he okay?”

  The man frowned at the blood on the dog’s neck, smeared it away, and waited for a moment to see it ooze up again. “I think so, yeah. These punctures aren’t deep.”

  “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I-I just got her, I didn’t know she was going to do that.”

  “Well.” The man stood. The look he gave wasn’t exactly angry, but it wasn’t exactly anything else either.

  Of course, he was shaken. And he would have every right to be mad. Tessa braced herself for some snappy words, perhaps a demand that she pay his dog’s vet bill if he needed to take him to the vet for Princess’ bite. Perhaps he would wonder aloud what she was doing bringing a dog she barely knew to an off-leash dog park, why she didn’t keep proper control of her dog.

  But he didn’t say any of those things. He just looked at her for a long, silent moment, then clipped the leash back on his dog and left.

  Somehow, that was far, far worse. At least if he was verbally angry, Tessa could duck her head, apologize, offer to pay for a vet visit, assure him that she wouldn’t bring Princess back here until she was better-behaved.

  The silence, the judgmental look, and then his total dismissal, left her as speechless and shaky as Princess was.

  Tessa wanted to call after him, to give him her phone number, to insist that they take his dog to the nearest vet just to be sure, to rush home and show him Princess’ rabies vaccine record — she’s up to date, see? — but he was gone before she could remember how to make words again.

  She looked down at Princess, still trembling in her arms, and realization hit her like a tire iron to the temple.

  She couldn’t look after her. Princess needed someone confident, someone capable of handling her undersocialization, her separation anxiety, her fear aggression. Someone who knew how to judge what she might do before she did it, who knew how to keep her out of harm’s way, who stopped her before she got herself or someone else into trouble.

  That someone wasn’t her.

  That’s what the man’s expression had been saying. The look that wasn’t angry but wasn’t anything else either — that’s what it was about. It was about how obviously Tessa wasn’t the right person to handle an anxious dog. She was too anxious herself.

  You didn’t mix anxiety with anxiety. That’s why Livy had been able to help her through her fits, because they didn’t trigger her own problems.

  But here, now, Princess shaking in her shaking arms? Tessa couldn’t help. She could barely breathe.

  Fear couldn’t relieve fear. Anxiety didn’t soothe other anxiety. It triggered it, fed off it.

  Princess deserved better. Better than her. Better than what half-baked safety Tessa might be able to offer her.

  Eventually, slowly, Princess’ shaking eased enough that Tessa figured she could walk on her own. Tessa set her down, clipped on her leash, and left the park.

  It was a long, slow walk home, the energy and excitement of the crisp air and bright sunshine drained from both of them by the encounter at the park. Tessa fought tears as they walked, kept her head down and her eyes on her feet against the moments that she wasn’t able to hold them back.

  The last thing she needed was a stranger on the street to notice her crying and ask her what was wrong — or, worse, to look at her and then turn away as if embarrassed by seeing those tears.

  She knew what she had to do, but she didn’t want to do it. If Princess deserved more than what Tessa could give her, then there really was only one thing left she could do:

  She had to take her back to Pretty Paws. She had to admit to them that she wasn’t the person, this wasn’t the home, Princess needed.

  She could be helpful. She could tell them about the fear aggression, the separation anxiety. They must’ve not known about it, or at least not the full extent of it, since no one said anything. Tessa didn’t think Leslie Durant was trying to fool or mislead her, so she must’ve not known. She could help, could tell her about those things, help her understand the sort of person Princess would really need to be happy and healthy in a home.

  She didn’t want to do it. The thought made her chest feel hollow in ways it hadn’t felt in days, a hollowness she hadn’t even really noticed until it was gone.

  But she loved Princess, and when you loved someone, you did what was best for them, no matter how it made you feel.

  She couldn’t stand to call, to dial the phone and talk to someone. She texted Maggie instead, asking if she could take her to Pretty Paws sometime this afternoon.

  Maggie didn’t ask questions, only answered that yes, she could be by in an hour.

  So, for an hour, Tessa curled up on the couch with her face buried in Princess’ back, crying until her tears finally ran dry.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Something was wrong.

  Of course, something had been wrong since that other dog came toward them with a stiff tail and too-eager eyes, but it was more than that.

  Princess couldn’t figure out what it was. Tessa had held her for many minutes after the dog and his human left, shaking as hard as Princess was, but she never quite seemed to calm down even after setting her back on the ground and taking her home.

  Now, at the sound of someone knocking on the door, she was hastily standing and wiping tears off her face. The fur on Princess’ back was damp from her sobs, and she didn’t know what was wrong.

  She didn’t hurt the other dog, not badly. It had been just a small bite, nothing worse than he would’ve had from his dam or littermates. His yelp at her teeth had been more surprise than pain. He hadn’t expected her to stand up for them as he came at them.

  A stupid assumption on his part, and perhaps from now on he’d mind the way he approached strangers.

  But that was over. His human hadn’t even yelled at her.

  And yet, the sense of wrongness soaked through every moment since then.

  Princess followed Tessa to the door and found the woman from the drive home on the other side. Her face went from neutral to concerned in a single blink.

  “Tessa? You okay?”

  It was a stupid question — she was so clearly not okay that even a human should be able to see it — but it was said with enough worry that Princess suspected she wasn’t saying it to be obtuse, but because that was what humans said when confronted with one of their own in tears.

  Tessa sniffled and rubbed her palm across her eyes. The skin around them was puffy and red. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Are you going to tell me why—”

  “
No.”

  A moment, a long blink from the other woman, a flash of surprise at the way Tessa had interrupted her. But then she pulled herself together again and nodded. “Okay. Okay, you don’t need to talk about it. You said you needed a ride?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “That’s fine.”

  They looked at each other for what felt like a meaningful moment, their expressions impossible to understand. Princess leaned against Tessa’s leg.

  She scooped her up and pushed past the other woman and toward the same car they’d taken to come home that first time. “Then can we go?”

  The woman hurried behind.

  The unease roiling in her stomach grew. It felt like the feeling she’d had in the first moments after Tessa left her alone the other day, only worse. Bigger, and without the obvious reason.

  Before, when Tessa left, Princess understood what was happening. She didn’t like it, but she knew why the feelings came. Because she was afraid of being alone in the strange house she hadn’t had a chance to fully explore. Because Tessa was gone. Because she didn’t know if Tessa was coming back.

  But now, Tessa was here, still holding her in her lap even as the car started, clinging to her like she was afraid of letting her go. She wasn’t gone. Princess wasn’t alone in an unfamiliar space. Tessa was here, and she would always come back. She promised she would.

  And the feelings were still there, bubbling under her skin, churning in her stomach, clawing at her throat.

  Something was wrong. Very, very wrong.

  The car was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the soft catches in Tessa’s breath. Princess pressed against her, hoping to comfort, but seeking it, too, and though she continued to hold her, rub her ears, hide her face in her fur, there was no reassurance in the touch.

  Princess tried not to whimper, to add to the unease buzzing in the car, but it was hard to keep the noises down. Each time a sound escaped her throat, Tessa’s breath hitched again, and her arms tightened.