Mr. Wilson Makes It Home by Michael Morse

Author:Michael Morse
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Skyhorse Publishing
Published: 2014-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

SECURITY

It seemed like we were without a dog for a lifetime. A lot had happened in the three years that had passed since we last had dogs to take care of, but Mr. Wilson showed up and then it seemed like he was always there. When we pulled into our driveway that first day, he sensed that he was home and ran under our overhead garage door before it had raised halfway. We had been pre-warned that he was an escape artist and would dig under fences, dart out of door cracks, scale walls, and maybe even trick his captors into letting him go. We did not expect him to escape the world and run into the house.

I let him off of his leash and figured the best way to introduce him to the cats was to let him introduce himself. True to form, both cats ignored the invasion, assuming this was a temporary occupation, much like that other dog that would spend a few days at the homestead, completely upset their chi, change their dinner hour, and drink their water. Little did they know, Mr. Wilson—unlike Danielle’s dog, Kaya, for whom we doggysat occasionally—was here to stay.

He tried befriending the other little creatures for a while. Luna had retreated into the crate and set up her defense of her new cave, and Victoria found her favorite hidey-hole and retreated there. Nothing doing with the cats, he came back to us, and then inspected his new surroundings, and then came back, and then inspected and came back and on and on. He drank the cats’ water with gusto, devoured the little bit of food Cheryl prepared for him, and began his reign as king of his castle.

Our yard was secure, as secure as I could make it anyway, and I am an expert at securing yards. When we returned from the Great White North and the Loki Clan Wolf Refuge with Zimba in tow, I learned quickly how to keep a wolf-dog in his unnatural habitat. That was a work of art, and it worked most of the time. Fred had laid down the law pertaining to keeping a wolf-hybrid safe and happy in suburbia, and though we had sold the house with the giant pen years ago, I’d committed Fred’s instructions to memory.

Suffice it to say, Mr. Wilson’s days of escaping yards were over.

Our yard was secure, as far as I could tell, anyway. The five-foot picket fence would be enough to keep a normal dog in. All I had to do was fill in a few holes around the bottom of the fence, nail a board or two across some broken pickets, and the yard was inescapable.

We sat outside, Mr. Wilson and I, while Cheryl got lunch ready, and I was able to sit on an Adirondack chair in my backyard—which now seemed like mine for the first time in years—fully content and happy to simply watch my little friend wander around his new home. Whether he

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