Part 2
Alder’s first discovery at Daniel’s house was the narrow space beneath the kitchen table. He explored it thoroughly, getting tangled among the chair legs before backing out with a dust tuft attached to one whisker.
Daniel removed it and set down a bowl of water.
“You’ve found the housekeeping problem already.”
He had brought the puppy home in his own car, secured in a carrier. Now he left the carrier open in the living room and allowed Alder to choose his own route. There was no family waiting to meet him, no succession of hands reaching down. Daniel put away the adoption papers and made himself a late breakfast while the puppy investigated the baseboards.
By the time Daniel sat down, Alder had returned to the kitchen. He drank, sniffed Daniel’s boot, and lowered himself beneath the chair.
A few minutes later, Daniel reached for his coffee and found he was listening for breathing under the table.
The morning passed in short pieces: a trip into the yard, a meal measured into a small bowl, an energetic assault on a chew toy, a nap. Alder let Daniel examine his feet and adjust his collar. When Daniel went to the laundry room, the puppy followed. When he came back carrying towels, Alder escorted him as though that required supervision.
The house had wooden floors in the front rooms. Every little scramble was audible. Daniel had forgotten how much activity could come from one animal scarcely taller than his boots.
He took a few days of accumulated leave so the introduction would not have to fit around a shift. There would be arrangements to make later, including help on workdays, but he wanted to establish a routine first.
Alder spent the afternoon resting near him, waking for brief, extravagant bouts of play. By supper, Daniel was beginning to wonder whether the other adopters had underestimated how much reassurance a puppy needed.
He did not say it aloud. That was fortunate.
He placed the new bed just outside his bedroom, close enough that Alder could see him. The puppy stepped in, turned, and lay down. Daniel brushed his teeth, shut off the kitchen light, and checked the back lock.
When he returned to the hallway, the bed was empty.
Alder stood at the front door with his nose close to the bottom edge. A small sound came from him, stopped, then came again.
Daniel took him outside. The puppy relieved himself and came back willingly. Daniel showed him the bed, sat beside it, and stroked his back until his eyes began to close.
As soon as Daniel got up, Alder did too.
At the door, the whining resumed.
Daniel tried a toy. For a few minutes, Alder forgot himself and pounced after it. Then he abandoned it in the hall and returned to his post.
“Buddy, you’re all right.”
The words came out sharper than Daniel intended. Alder looked at him, ears uneven, and Daniel let out a breath.
“All right. That wasn’t helpful.”
He checked the water again. Nothing about the puppy suggested pain or fear of being touched. He wasn’t trying to hide from Daniel. When Daniel sat on the floor, Alder came over and leaned against his leg, then went back to the entrance.
So Daniel stayed there.
He propped a cushion behind his back and sat beneath the coat hooks while the house cooled around them. Alder traveled the few feet between him and the door until the intervals grew longer. Well after midnight, he lay down beside Daniel’s foot.
Daniel woke with a stiff neck and a pale rectangle of morning on the opposite wall. The expensive bed remained smooth and unoccupied.
Alder had found one of his old slippers.
The puppy’s muzzle was buried in its heel, his body curved around it at an angle no sensible creature would have selected. Daniel eased one numb leg out from beneath himself and looked from the slipper to the bed.
“Fine. I’ll take the bed.”
Alder opened one eye, then closed it again.
Once breakfast was over, there was no trace of the night’s trouble. In the yard, Alder discovered a curled leaf caught against the fence. Each gust moved it just far enough to demand another investigation. Daniel stood with his hands in his pockets while the puppy approached, retreated, and finally planted a paw on it.
Inside, Alder followed him cheerfully. He slept through part of a load of laundry and woke in time to supervise lunch. The front door held no special interest.
Daniel sent Nora a brief report. Difficult first night. Eating well. Otherwise comfortable. He told her he was continuing.
That evening, he kept the lamps on longer. He sat with Alder after the last trip outside, allowing the puppy to fall asleep against his ankle.
The moment Daniel began shutting down the house, Alder got up.
This time Daniel watched the whole sequence. Alder went straight to the door, waited, then looked over his shoulder. He returned to Daniel when called, accepted a scratch beneath his chin, and even played. But when the attention ended, he went back.
It wasn’t random wandering. There was a destination, and Daniel couldn’t see it from where he sat.
He spent much of the second night in the hallway again. His back objected. So did the part of him that had expected ordinary puppy trouble and purchased the appropriate supplies for it. Around two in the morning, he found himself staring resentfully at a packet of training treats as though the manufacturer had withheld an essential instruction.
Alder rested his chin on Daniel’s knee.
Daniel put the treats aside and scratched behind the puppy’s ear.
By dawn, he had stopped thinking in terms of whether Alder liked the house. The puppy sought him out, followed him willingly, and slept against him. Whatever sent him to the door wasn’t keeping him away from Daniel.
He was making coffee when he heard a buckle knock against the kitchen threshold.
The lead had been hanging from the low end of the entry bench, where Daniel had left it after their last outing. Alder had caught the loose strap in his mouth. He dragged it across the floor, struggling once when it caught beneath a chair.
Daniel reached down to free it. Alder let go, hurried back to the entrance, and looked toward him.
For a moment, Daniel held the strap without moving.
“You want us to go out?”
Alder came two steps toward him, then turned back to the door.
Daniel looked at the clock. Nora would be at the shelter by now, feeding animals before the public arrived. There was one familiar place he could take Alder, and one person who knew the puppy’s recent life better than he did.
He fastened the lead to Alder’s harness, put on his jacket, and opened the front door…
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