Stress Test Ch. 41

Kids knew a lot more about the world than Sandy did in her day, so Saury had no trouble adapting to a fierce-looking dog twice his size. He hugged Suvi around the neck, bared his own teeth and pulled back the dog's gums for the camera. For the rest of the day, he paraded around with his upper lip tucked behind the bottom row of baby teeth, saying "Rrrrhhhh. Rrrrhhhh."

Because of his size and the keenness of his soft, brown eyes, bringing Suvi home was more like adding a new person than a pet to the household. Relaxing, he came to Sandy's waist, and he could easily rest his chin on the kitchen counter, the dining table or anywhere else something unusual might beckon.

Suvi's head was already larger than Sandy's. Teeth as big as finger tips crowded his mighty jaws. The teeth jutted out in six basic shapes, each shape playing a special role when the time came to turn flesh and bone into juice and gristle. His rawhide toys might as well have been cotton candy.

Loose jowls and a down-turned mouth made him appear serious and noble. His compact nose and short muzzle spared him from the clownish face so common in the dog world. He showed Sandy what Irene meant by a dog's dignity.

Black fur with feathery, tan accents underscored Suvi's seriousness and enhanced his impression of bulk and power. The sleek fur creased and bunched over the dog's broad, chiseled muscles.

Suvi's legs, on loan from a horse, ended in great tan wads of feet. They gave him an adult Rottweiler's height. The next forty or fifty pounds would be added to his breadth and depth.

It stretched Sandy's imagination to regard something as large as the ten-month-old Suvi as a puppy. The dog didn't weigh much less than she did, and his silhouette filled the door when he rose to his full height in protest at her departure.

On the other hand, she could hardly keep him in bones, but she dared not run out because his teeth could always find something else to satisfy them.

Not long after she brought Suvi home, the interest his nose took in the tiles of the front entryway alarmed her. At first, Sandy thought he was looking for a place to pee. But as soon as she let him back in after giving him a chance outside, he followed his nose to the front door. Much later, she realized that the scent of Stephen X's blood probably lingered there. "Oh, go ahead and pee, if that's what you want," she sighed.

Without Stephen X around, she never seemed to lose things anymore. He used to stuff things in odd places if the sight of it offended him. If Sandy were distracted while putting away the laundry, her underwear might turn up beneath the bathroom sink or crammed behind the dresser. It was like the old joke about the husband sweeping dust beneath the carpet until a mountain rose in the middle of the room.

But she spent a good part of Saturday looking for one of her favorite shoes. Sunday afternoon, she caught Suvi flossing with a shoelace behind the sofa.

"Bad dog!" she said, waving a few chunks of the sole in his face. "You're a bad, bad dog."

Suvi shrank into the carpet and did penance. His moist, brown eyes rolled up to see how much trouble he was in. Although he probably had no idea what he'd done, he looked too ashamed even to whimper.

Sandy tried to sit down and read a magazine. Within moments, she felt Suvi's hot, steady breath against her fingers. She tipped the magazine and saw him peering intently, as if he were trying to read the perfume ad on the back cover. She couldn't stay mad at anyone so earnest. She stroked the fine, smooth fur between his ears. "Suvi, Suvi, Suvi," she sighed. "What are we going to do with you?"

When Suvi played, he seemed more like a cat on steroids than a dog. He pounced on an orange leaf that skittered down the street. He crossed the living room in two bounds. He stretched out motionless—six feet or more from paw tip to paw tip—and waited.

The part that Sandy had least expected was the way Suvi showed such an intense interest in everything she and Saury did. Having lived so long with Stephen X's oblivion, that was something that took some getting used to.

Sandy crouched to tie her shoe and there was Suvi's nose in the laces. She stood on tiptoes to reach a pan in the kitchen, and Suvi nuzzled her leg. Sandy switched on her computer and Suvi cocked his head as the numbers raced across the screen.

She had seen goofy dogs before. They had vacant, dilated eyes, slobbery tongues and brains that compelled them to play fetch at a frantic pace until they keeled over dead. But Suvi accepted his doghood as a serious calling. Even the way he shadowed Sandy, studying her every movement seemed to be part of a larger plan. He acted like he thought he might need to fill in for her with the household chores one day.

Not that she had done a very good job of understanding humans, but it was tough for Sandy to get inside a dog's mind. Why would he want to drink from the toilet like a horse at a water trough? Why did he follow her everywhere? Why did he home in on the most disgusting things he could find when she took him for a walk?

She came home from work in the middle of the night and found him sprawled as big as a man across the carpet, gnawing on a goat's hoof. He just tilted his head and rolled his eyes when she came in the door.

"How did you know I wasn't a burglar, you big galoot?"

Suvi spit out the hoof and ambled to her side. He licked the back of her hand.

Maybe Sandy had made a big mistake. She'd thought this guard dog business would be like getting Rin Tin Tin with an attitude. What kind of protection could a docile, teething puppy offer, even one as big as a small horse? She bought him a choke chain and a collar with chrome studs so that he would at least look more threatening. But how would an attacker be deterred by a lanky, ninety-pound dog that sauntered down the street with an old popsicle wrapper in its mouth?

For a few days she entertained Saury by trying to tutor Suvi in basic growling techniques. She crouched on all fours and scrunched her face up. "Grrrrr," she said. "Listen, Suvi! Grrrrr." Suvi cocked an ear and tried to understand his role in this new game.

Sandy finally quit worrying on the Saturday afternoon when the insurance salesman came. She had been making a grocery list in the kitchen when she heard Suvi at the front door. The growl started as soft and low as distant thunder. But it grew urgent and loud, like a menacing train, as the man came up the walk.

Sandy watched Suvi plant his feet behind the door, ready to spring for the throat at the first sight of the intruder. When the doorbell rang, Suvi unleashed a bark that could defend a fresh carcass, a bark that warned strangers they had strayed into the wrong neighborhood.

By the time Sandy cracked open the door, the man had already jumped back from the porch, spilling his briefcase on the lawn.

"Suvi! Down!" she shouted, halfway hoping he wouldn't pay any attention to her.

Suvi forced his head between Sandy's leg and the door. He bared his teeth and barked with a voice that knocked birds off the telephone lines. At last, Sandy understood why Irene borrowed names from volcanoes for her Rottweilers.

"Hush, Suvi," Sandy said, tugging back at his collar and feeling her feet skid across the porch. She shot a glance at the man who was scrambling to his feet. "Can I help you?"

"Bob Adamowski, Metro Insurance," he said, stuffing papers into his case and patting his hair. "I'll call you sometime when you're not busy."

Sandy closed the door and knelt in front of Suvi. "Good dog," she said, massaging his neck the way he liked. "What a good, good dog!"

Even without the theatrics, Sandy felt safe walking Suvi at any time of day or night. Always curious, Suvi's eyes followed any human or dog they encountered. His size and the intensity of his gaze were enough to make some men cross to the other side of the street. Sandy came to realize that only men took detours at the sight of Suvi. Women felt no threat and children could hardly keep their hands off the calm, noble dog. Maybe the men feared that Suvi could read their unwholesome thoughts.

Maybe that was how Suvi could tell whether Sandy or an insurance salesman stood on the other side of a door.

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Go back to Chapter 1 of Stress Test.

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