Rick came into the office, his freckled forehead sweating from the decathlon of chores. Dan stared at the cabinet.

“What do you hunt? The German army?”

“Deer and quail, depending where we go.”

“Have the animals ever shot back?”

“If guns kill people, cars make them drive drunk. God-given rights, Malone.” Rick was smart enough to spout his father’s wisdom with only a half-serious measure. The pump on the hot tub made a labored gargle, and they both moved back into the greenhouse.

“Well, I’m coming to your house when the Russians attack. What are the dogs doing?”

Across the hallway in the dining room, Ruby and Ozzie were pacing in circles under the chairs.

“Yeah, they do that. I guess they like how it rubs their backs.”

Dan watched them for a few loops. It was like a prison yard routine. Stressed out, goddamn dogs, Dan thought. Then just as their patrol couldn’t get any more comical, Ruby ran into a chair leg and backed up traffic. This didn’t sit right with Ozzie, who nipped at Ruby’s dogleg left, and soon the two were wrestling and fighting.

“Knock it off, idiots.” Rick went back into the waterworks. Dan watched the two terriers wrestle. Rick ran the pump in reverse, which created a high-pitched squeal, in turn setting off Ozzie and Ruby. In a split second, wrestling had escalated into a fight to the death.

“Uh, Rick . . .”

“What?” He couldn’t hear anything over the pump, so Dan tapped his shoulder.

“Your dogs are trying to kill each other.”

Ozzie and Ruby had each other by the throat. Rick turned off the hot tub.

“Ozzie, Ruby, no!”

But it was too late; they were locked in, and Ruby had scratched Ozzie, and the smell of blood drove them mad. Rick tried to put his hand in to grab a collar and almost lost it as the two terriers became one vicious ball of fight. Dan had horrified flashes of the Jack London he had read in junior high.

“Jesus Christ.”

Ruby whined as Ozzie got ahold of her by the neck and clamped down. Tufts of dog hair went flying. The two dogs pulled each other into the hallway.

“Dad!”

Rick Sr. appeared, followed by his wife and daughter.

“Good Lord.”

“The noise from the pump made them go apeshit.”

Dan stepped back as the dogs continued to murder each other. Rick Sr. had a copy of Texas Monthly in his hand. He rolled it up.

“Son, get a collar.”

“They almost took a finger when I tried that.”

“Well, Ruby is going to lose if we don’t separate them. Missy, go get the travel kennel. I’m going to throw one of these dogs in there.”