Day 20 – Species Swap
He was dozing in front of the fireplace, stretched out on the old rug that smelled of mud and rain and long walks with Mistress. It had been a quiet day so far. Maggie had snuck off into the garden to dig for mice. Maybe she'd share with him later. His nose twitched once or twice at the thought, but he couldn't be bothered to get up and join her. And anyway, digging for mice was for small ones, like her.
Mistress was sitting at the table, her white-haired head bent over a big old book. Occasionally she would talk quietly to herself, but he was used to that. With a long sigh, Nash turned on his back, stretching and yawning. The warmth of the fire was pleasant on his belly. He was about to doze off again when there was a knock on the door.
"Mrs Woolsey?" He recognized the voice. It was the man Mistress called Mr Varel, the neighbour from next door.
Nash liked him. He was quiet, never shouted. And he always smelled of bacon in the morning. Occasionally, he could even be persuaded to part with a treat with the help of a soulful, pleading look.
"Come in." Mistress got up to greet the arrival, but Nash didn't budge. No need to get excited over this particular visitor.
Yet, when the door opened, an unfamiliar smell hit his nostrils and his head shot up, ears pricked up and alert. A dog!
"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs Woolsey. I can see you are busy." Mr Varel's deep, rumbling tones calmed him a little, but Nash kept a close eye on the bundle the man was carrying. "But I have a problem here, and I was wondering-"
"It's no trouble." Mistress reached out to take the bundle from his arms and put it on the table. "Who is this little fellow?"
Well, he wasn't quite so little. Nash got to his paws and slowly approached the table to have a better look. The newcomer was black with tan markings, his coat coarse and flat. He looked a bit stocky, with strong legs and a muscled neck, triangular ears and a broad muzzle. He smelled… young, and faintly sick, but he was almost fully grown. Nash growled quietly. Another male.
Mistress put a calming hand on his head. "Shhh, Nash. Look, he's hurt, poor thing."
"He does look a bit battered, doesn't he?" Mr Varel chuckled. "Mr Stroud brought him to my place this morning. He picked him up on his trip to Kirkwall. Says he found him in the gutter. He doesn't look like a mongrel, though."
"No, he doesn't." Mistress nodded. "And he seems good-natured enough."
She ran her other hand over the new dog's head, gently but firmly. The pup responded with a low whine, then rolled onto his back to present his belly for scratching.
Mr Varel laughed again. "Yeah, according to Stroud he's a cuddler, for all his fierce looks. Can you look after him, at least until he's fully healed?"
"What's wrong with him?" Mistress frowned. "He looks half-starved, that much is certain."
"He also had a nasty cut on his flank, see?" Mr Varel pointed out the almost-healed wound. "He was crawling with fleas and parasites, Stroud said. The vet took care of that, but he's still weak."
"What do you think, Nash?" Mistress rubbed his back, petting his silky black fur, then gazed earnestly into his eyes. "Would you like a new friend?"
He sat down and scratched vigorously behind his ear, trying to hide his confusion. He wanted to please Mistress, he really did, but what did he need a new friend for? He already had Maggie, and she was more than he could bear on some days. Mistress smiled and picked up the newcomer, placing him carefully on the floor before him.
In a flash, he was on his feet again, standing straight with his ears and tail up to show off his full size. The other dog ducked a little, tail lowered, trying to appear smaller. Good. It seemed there would be no challenge to his authority, at least not yet. He glanced briefly at the pup's eyes, then proceeded to sniff him thoroughly, allowing him to reciprocate, and growling only briefly when he became too enthusiastic. When they both had satisfied their curiosity, they settled back on their haunches, watching each other, tails wagging slowly.
"Well done, Nash." Mistress Woolsey smiled.
"He's such a handsome fellow." Mr Varel's admiring tone made him sit up a little straighter.
"Yes." Mistress smiled. "Black labs are my favourite breed, really. Handsome, clever and fearless. Aren't you, Nash?"
He barked once, licking her hand eagerly.
Mistress smiled, then turned her attention to the newcomer again. "All right, it seems Nash approves. Does he have a name?"
"Stroud called him Carver." Mr Varel shrugged. "No idea why."
"Carver? Makes him sound like a serial killer." Mistress tsked. "But it will do."
Just then, a scrabbling noise at the door announced Maggie. Her gold and tan coat was streaked with mud, the long silky locks tangled. She cannoned into the room at full speed as usual, yapping excitedly at Mr Varel, but stopped in her tracks at the sight of Carver, giving him her full attention.
"Maggie." Mistress sighed. "You are a mess."
Mr Varel shook his head, but he was smiling. "That one is a handful, isn't she? Very cute, though."
"She certainly is." Mistress' tone grew stern. "A bath for you, missy, I think. But first say hello to Carver."
Maggie bounced toward Carver who cowered back, clearly overwhelmed by her enthusiasm. But, she was undaunted. Stopping right before him, she lowered her front legs and pawed playfully at his muzzle. He hesitated for a moment, then pawed back. When she doubled back out of reach, racing toward the garden door, he followed her with a happy bark.
The humans laughed, but Nash gazed thoughtfully after them. His life had just become a lot more complicated.