Catharsis [Novel]

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

            Over two hours go by as I distract myself with sweeping, cleaning and organizing the warehouse floor.  A few times I seem to disturb Lazzy enough to make him raise his head and sneeze at me (Stupid dust!) or just stare and watch me with those brown reflective pools of his eyes.  He doesn't seem bothered by my actions, and I don't sense any hostility (Just a mild curiosity tinged with slight annoyance, but I can handle that.) emanating from him.

            My original goal had just been to sweep out my closet and get it as clean as possible, but that just didn't take long enough.  My inability to get tired (As far as I can tell so far, at least.) has definitely been one of the better parts of whatever I'm going through.  If my constant high energy level is tapping into my hunger, it hasn't been noticeable, and I’ll consider that a win.

            Once my closet was swept out and wiped down (I tapped into the water puddle supply outside and used some old towels and clothing I found strewn around the lower levels.  It being a warehouse has paid off a little bit.), I expanded my reach to the surrounding floor outside the little closet.  From there, I just kept sweeping and picking up (All the old smashed furniture and random debris I've put into a deserted back room I found.) until I had covered almost half the warehouse floor.

            Stopping to look back over how much area I’ve covered since starting, I'm amazed.

            "Wouldn't my mom be proud of me now," I say.  "Little Suzie Homemaker has not only cleaned her room (Given my "room" was just a closet, but it's still the thought that counts, right?) but also taken care of most of the downstairs."

            And then my heart stops.  Lazzy's gone.  The spot next to my closet door where he's been laying for most of the day is empty.  No dog.

            Instinctively (How can this be instinctive already?  What's happening to me?) I flare my nostrils and breathe deeply.  "Where's your scent, buster?" I mutter as I pull air in through my nose as quickly as possible.

            The rich scent of canine tickles my brain and tells me he hasn't left.  It's too strong for him to be far.  He must still be in the building.

            Spinning slowly in place, I allow my eyes to adjust to the dimness of the gray evening light that permeates the building (How did it get so dark in here without me noticing?  How caught up was I in my cleaning?).  Having cleaned the place, there aren't many objects to disturb my view so it's a quick search.  Lazzy isn't far away from me, sitting against one of the support pillars in the middle of the room.  He's just watching me.  Sitting up.  Alert.  And very attentive.

            "Hey boy," I call out.  "You scared me.  You doing better now?"  He doesn't react to my voice; only tilts his head slightly and continues to stare at me.  I hope this is a good thing, and not an ominous one.

            Squatting down to make myself shorter (That's less intimidating to animals, right?  Or is that just something humans do and tell ourselves?), I pat my leg.  "Come 'ere boy.  Come on over to me."

            He doesn't move.  He stares at me and tilts his head to the other side, but he doesn't approach.

            Hmmm.  Reaching out my senses I try to get an idea of his mood.  Is he scared or curious or hurt or - and I don't want to think of this as a possibility - aggressive?  I don't want to use too much of my energy for this, but I use enough to know I'm not registering any negative or aggressive emotions (Do animals have emotions?  This is still such a weird path I'm traveling down.).  I take that as a good sign.

            "How about I come to you?" I say in a low soothing voice and begin to duck walk my way towards him.  "Do you remember me from before?  Are you and me still copacetic?  Still good?  Still buddies?"  I just want to keep my voice going and be as friendly as possible.  "Thanks for your help earlier.  Well, even if you hadn't meant to help me.  I still appreciate it.  I tried to return the favor.  You liked the food and water, right?"

            I sound like an idiot in my own head, but my constant low voice seems to be helping as I get nearer to him.  I don't really care what I'm saying as long as he's listening to me and not running.

            Three feet away from him with my hand outstretched in as non-threatening a way as I can manage, he suddenly drops from his alert sitting position down to his belly and eyes me from the ground.

            That stops my advance for a moment. 

            "Lazzy?"

            He answers me by immediately rolling onto his back and wiggling his paws into the air.  "Yark!"  The noise he makes is sudden and unexpected (And odd-sounding for a dog, but I'm not one to judge right now.), but the happiness rolling off of him in distinct waves can’t be ignored.  He's excited to see me.  We're good.

            Plopping myself down next to him, I rub his belly and watch him squirm back and forth in sheer delight.  The fear about my new-found friend being scared of me melts away in the brightness of this unadulterated love.

            The next half hour is spent rubbing belly (me), licking hands (him) and rolling around on the ground (Both of us.  What?  It's a clean floor now.).  It's nice to have someone to be with even if that someone isn't human.  I'll take what I can get right now.

            After our bonding is over, we walk back over to the closet, so I can feed him for the evening.  His appetite and strength have both returned with a vengeance, and I'm amazed how quickly he has recovered from yesterday’s blood loss.  It's apparent he still isn't at full strength (He lays down whenever waiting on me instead of standing patiently, and the weariness I sense in him certainly exists even if it isn't stopping him.), but he's stronger than I would have given him credit for.

            He eats three handfuls of food and another full cup of water before finally giving into the exhaustion I know he's been ignoring so that he could be with me. 

            "Brave little fella," I tell him.  "Who knows how long you went without food before you found me.  Well, don't worry.  We'll get you back up and running around just as soon as possible.  Trust me."

            Looking up at me from the furry donut he’s twisted his body into, he snuffles loudly.

            "That wasn't much of an answer," I continue. "But I'm assuming that was your way of saying 'yeah, well, we'll see'."

            "Stay here and stay as comfortable as you can.  I'm going to go out and see if I can find a way to get us some pillows and blankets and maybe some food that is fresher than that nasty dinosaur chow I found.  I'll be back."

            With that thought, I jog over to the back door and slip out into the night.  I have a goal now.  I have a mission.  And I have the best of intentions.

            And as every old wife knows, good intentions never lead to trouble.