The Unfortunate Dog Life of Maxwell Foxhound (Proof Copy for Review)

Chapter Two: Finding Food

Apricot glanced at Maxwell with dolefulness. He exchanged glances with her, and he whimpered wistfully. "So... what do we do now?" she asked him.

"We?" Maxwell asked in disbelief, unsure if he had heard it right.

"Well, yeah, I mean, I am coming with you, you know." Apricot grinned at him in such a way that made even Maxwell uncomfortable.

"Er... right," Maxwell coughed awkwardly, dodging her intent gaze.

"We're in this together, Maxwell. Dogs, unite! C'mon, say it with me." Apricot chortled gleefully, and Maxwell managed a faint, hidden grin.

"Dogs, unite," he replied, his brown floppy ears moving up and down with excitement and glee.

~*~
Another day came and went. Then another. Then came the third day, and Doctor Tuffin never came back. It was odd, though Maxwell and Apricot knew that he was busy. Being the Keeshond that she was, Apricot had lots of long furs to keep herself warm, and Maxwell had nothing but two inches of tri-colored fur.

Apricot cuddled up close to Maxwell to keep him warm. Just to keep him warm.

Maxwell noticed a small, rusty metal Celtic Tree hanging on a wall of the shack. He had seen the metal wall decor in the Campbells' house, so now he knew that a part of his human family was still with him. Especially the fact that their bodies still lay motionless and silent beside the two small dogs.

The cold evening came, and the dogs hadn't had supper. No food was left, even the cold canned corn, and every bottled water was broken and held no water. With no heat source except for Apricot, Maxwell shivered all night long. His body seemed to vibrate while trying to warm himself up.

"Maxwell, are you alright?" Apricot asked sweetly.

"No, I— I—" Maxwell could barely speak through his emotions.

"It's alright if you don't feel like talking, or anything."

"Thank you. For everything."

Evening and night came and went; another night without food or water. Nothing had changed. And still, everything felt completely different.

The morning was a little bit warmer, and by then, the snow had melted. Maxwell hadn't been quite used to the warmer temperatures, but Apricot had helped clean his fur in a puddle from the melted snow. He still wondered whether he should find some more food—perhaps in a nearby trash can like the raccoons did.

He had gotten up and looked at his reflection in the puddle, wondering what it would be like to have his adventure as a stray. He had never really been homeless. But now both families were gone, his home had gone as well.
Even though it was February 27, they still had a while to go until spring would come. It started to warm up, yet it was still frigid cold.

Apricot sat up suddenly, trotting over to Maxwell and resting one of her front paws across his own. She looked up at him. "Are you going to be alright, Maxwell?"

"Of course." Maxwell dismissed her for a moment, but she still looked mildly concerned.

"Are you sure you'll be fine when I go get us some food?" she teased.

Maxwell chuckled, meeting Apricot's sweet gaze, and replied, "Of course." His teeth showed as he grinned.
Apricot smiled back at him, and they both trotted out the shack's door.

"Okay... I'll be back soon, I think," Apricot assured Maxwell reluctantly. With that, she hopped over the sturdy fence surrounding them. Apricot looked back at Maxwell and opened her mouth but closed hers when she saw Maxwell's open.

"Bye! Good luck! Love you!" he exclaimed, wishing Apricot well. After those last two words, the two awkwardly stared at each other, astonished.

"L-love you, too!" Apricot called back hesitantly, laughing awkwardly after. She turned her fluffy, creme-gray body away from him.

Maxwell's tail lowered as she disappeared into the foggy morning horizon. I wish that I would've asked to go with her, he thought. It would have been better. I won't stand a chance in this weather alone. He predicted that Apricot might be back by dawn. Still, he was stiff and forbearing, waiting longingly at the wooden picket fence, hankering for Apricot to return.