“We hear ya. But first we’ve got to move everybody who’s lower level.” Boots sighs. “Last hurricane we had two feet to deal with. I swear they’re getting worse.”

“Climate change,” says the officer. “What’re ya gonna do?”

“More than we’re doin’,” says Boots. “That much is for sure.”

“I’ll move the dogs from room two,” Cowboy offers. “There are only a couple on the bottom level. We’re outa cages, though. We’ll have to double up.”

“Put that little female in with the new guy,” says Boots. “They look like twins.”

I’m shivering. And it’s not because I’m cold.

I press my hurt nose to the metal bars.

I smell something. I do.

I hear something. I do.

Cowboy returns, dog in arms.

A bark.

That bark.

The door to my cage opens.

“Hey,” I say automatically, even as my heart is already whispering the truth to me, “they call me Bob.”

“They call me Boss,” says the voice, but by now I know, of course I know, and I’m howling with joy.

alive

Thunder claps. Shutters fly. Windows rattle. Water rushes. Dogs whimper. Cats howl. People yell.

And all I can hear is my sister’s voice.

catching up

We lick each other, sniff, yelp, circle, wrestle.

Neither of us was ever the touchy-feely sort.

But sometimes you just gotta let it all out.

“Wow,” says Cowboy, watching us. “You’d think they knew each other.”

tough

Boss isn’t anything like I remember. She’s scrawny and flea covered. Her left ear has a big notch in it. Her fur is dull, her body scarred, her tail cut short.

I’m afraid to ask how that happened.

She’s clearly had it tough, really tough.

“I thought I heard your bark,” I say, “but then it stopped. Figured I was crazy.”

“I was napping.”

“In this chaos?” I ask.

“I can sleep anywhere. It’s a gift.” Boss nibbles on a toenail. “Funny thing is I was having a dream about you. Must’ve caught a whiff of you in my sleep.”

I can’t stop staring. Boss. Here. With me.

“What?” she asks when she catches me looking at her.

“I was just wondering,” I say, “about your life. Do you have . . . you know, anybody?”

“You mean like humans? Nope.” She gives a little flick of her stubby tail. “Never have. Never will.”

“You’ve been on your own this whole time?” I flash on my cushy bed, my lovely food bowl, the way everyone knows just how I like my ear scratches.

“Yep.”

“How’d you end up here?”

“I was out scrounging for food. Just had another litter and I was tired, off my game. Animal control got me.” She licks a nasty cut on her front paw.

“Wait.” My ears prick up. “So . . . you have puppies?”