Winter Rose

IV. Deja vu

★★★

I slept restlessly, my eyes drawn to the window—overcome with the feeling that I was being watched. The shadow didn't pass by again. Still, I couldn't shake the uneasiness that washed over me after its brief appearance. 

Something was out there. It wasn't just me—my dog mother had felt it too. Every intuition inside me was screaming danger.   

Finally, I managed to calm my nerves, only after hours of tossing around on the prickly bed of cedar chips. Warm light flooded through the window, forcing my eyes open. I laid there for awhile, basking in the sun. The events of the night before were still foggy with sleep, giving me some peace. Slowly, I pulled myself from my sanctuary, forced to face the day, and whatever craziness it brought with it.

Tactically ignoring my pestering siblings, I hoisted my fat body onto the bench, and gazed out into the yard. The seemingly endless stretch of oak trees and rolling grass hills had come alive with a chorus of animals of all kinds. Despite the threat of danger lurking in the back of my mind, it was a beautiful sight to see, the sounds and smells jarring happy memories I'd shared with Winter in my former life.

I sighed, watching the chickens roam around. What the hell was I doing here? 

They bobbed their heads, stopping here and there to pick at tidbits in the grass. Then scattered, flustered and squawking as they were rounded up by Barnabas, the old border collie who'd followed Winter the first day we met.

Barnabas was Winter's dog; always by her side, everywhere she went. He had an absolute obsession with herding things. I'd decided he was a bit senile when I encountered him in my human form. Crouched down far to the ground like a wild wolf, he'd herd any living thing. If no one was around, he'd even try to round up fallen leaves blowing in the wind. 

I watched a chicken run for its life, the dog trailing it from behind. The chicken shrieked as Barnabas nipped, and retrieved a feather. Good old Barnabas. Never thought I'd see him again...

A few minutes later, Winter came whistling into our stall and greeted us in her usual joyous way, which made my mother and siblings go crazy with excitement. Barnabas trotted proudly at her heels, head held high, eyes beaming down on us from his assumed position of authority. 

Winter was stunning—not in a sexy, supermodel sort of way. She had natural beauty, and an aura of kindness that was like a magnet, pulling people towards her. Her long dark hair was swept up into a large bun on the top of her head that morning, accenting her large, brown eyes and caramel skin. She wore a blue flannel shirt, knotted in the front, with worn, dusty jeans. In her arms she cradled a big, cardboard box.

My siblings bounced around her feet as she set the box on the ground. Dropping down to her knees, she scooped up Boon, the largest of the pups, and set him gently inside.

"It's a beautiful day outside, time for some fresh air."

I was the last to enter the box under my mother's watchful eyes, Winter hauled it outside. The anxious dog followed close behind. One by one, Winter planted us on the soft grass.

"Don't worry, they can't get too far, Roxie. And Barnabas is here to help." She patted my mother's head. Roxie stood alert, somewhat panicked as her pups headed off in different directions.

Stay, stay, stay! she projected desperately, but the pups were too elated to heed her commands.

Winter sprinted up the hill to the barn. Thrilled to finally be out of the confinement of four walls, I desperately tried to follow her, but my useless legs just weren't capable yet. Instead, I was scooped up by my obsessive mother at the scruff of my neck and dropped unceremoniously back into the box.