In Death 36 - Missing In Death by J.D. Robb

Author:J.D. Robb [Robb, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-04-29T04:00:00+00:00

She splashes over and sits next to me, her rump in the water, chin on the arm of my lawn chair. “Hey, babe,” I say, gently squeezing one thick, silky ear. Shes smaller than I thought. Smaller than I felt, rather. She comes to just above my knee, perfect stroking height as she winds gracefully by. She has soft, soulful, light brown eyes. She likes to cross her legs in front when she lies down, very ladylike. We have the same color hair, tawny reddish tan, but hers is straighter. I admire her trim waistline. When I take her to the ball field in the park and let her off the leash (illegally), she chases the low-fl ying barn swallows until shes so tired her tongue hangs out. I could watch her run forever.

Now she puts her paw on my lap for me to shake, which I do, but its never enough. She switches paws, I shake that one, she switches back. Its almost a tic. “What do you want, honey?” She never answers, but sometimes I think its to put her arms around me. Just get closer.

She scared me at first. I was, of course, ecstatic when I heard she hadnt drowned, but when they brought me home and the first thing she did was leap up beside me on the bed and gaze deeply into my eyes, I was, frankly, weirded out. “Who are you?” I whispered—when we were alone. “Are you me? Nod your head for yes.”

Nothing. Since then Ive tried lots of other ways to communicate (“Blink your eyes.” “Lift one paw.” “Wag your tail.” “Bark twice.”), but nothings worked. Either I havent found the key yet, which seems increasingly unlikely, or Sonoma is simply a dog (“simply”; not “just”). A delightful, handsome, intelligent, affectionate dog, yes, but nothing more, no one hidden or trapped inside trying to get out. Apparently.

So I dont know what happened to me. Sometimes I imagine all dogs are, from time to time, secretly people, and theres this global conspiracy to keep it under wraps so those of us whove experienced it arent carted off to asylums. Other times I think, well, why just dogs? Why not cats, too? Or birds? Squirrels, whales, hedgehogs? Maybe theres constant species body-swapping going on, but nobody talks about it except in childrens books and science fiction.

Other times, Im pretty sure I dreamed the whole thing. One thing is true: Being a dog changed me. Ive become a pack animal. Familys everything—Sam and Benny not only complete me; in some bone-deep way they are me. And not just them. The whole concept of family stretches out farther, farther, planets around the sun. It includes all my friends, Delia and her family, Charlie, and Monica, Ronnie Lewis, neighbors, the community, anybody I love, even Mr. Horton—were all a pack. With my little, immediate pack, Sam and Benny, I still have a faint but undeniable urge to roll around on the floor, but with the secondary and tertiary members, I mostly just want to have constant goodwill and cooperation.

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