Gun Shy by Donna Ball

answer I had given my aunt earlier. “If the next of kin doesn’t want him, or can’t be found, I’ll turn him over to Rescue. There are a lot of great groups out there, and as well trained as he is, he’ll be a snap to place.”
    Uncle Roe speared another forkful of cake and nodded thoughtfully. “Meantime, I guess you’d better keep a close eye on him.”
    At my questioning look, he smiled. “Right now, that dog is the only one who knows what really happened up at that cabin.”
     
I know it’s silly, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Uncle Roe had said: The dog really was the only one who knew what had happened. He knew whether or not he had arrived in a car with a husband and a wife, and whether or not they had stopped for dog food. He knew where he came from. He knew what had happened just before the shot was fired that had taken the life of the woman in the bedroom and had begun his nightmare. It was strange, to imagine all that knowledge locked up inside the brain of a living being, but to have absolutely no way to retrieve it.
    So naturally I called my friend Sonny Brightwell.
    Sonny is a well-respected attorney who also happens to be an animal lover. One of the animals she loves is a sweet little border collie named Mystery, who managed to find her way to Sonny from the evil clutches of none other than Reese Pickens. That was how we had first met. But during the course of our meeting I had also discovered something else about Sonny. She claims she can communicate with animals, in particular—as far as I’m concerned—dogs.
    This is what I think. Dogs are intelligent, imaginative creatures. They know how to plan, to form social relationships, to work in groups. There is even compelling scientific evidence that they dream, and they process information while dreaming in much the same way we do. And if “sentient” means self-aware, I’ve never known a living being more self-aware, and in fact, self- interested , than a dog. Do they think in the same way we do? They absolutely do not. They think better . They are in a dozen or more ways much more efficient, more alert, and more adapted to their environment than we are. But can they talk?
    I don’t think so.
    That did not, however, keep Sonny from being the first person who popped into my head when I thought about Hero being the only witness to the tragedy about which there were so many questions. It wasn’t that I exactly believed that she could talk to dogs—or rather, that they could talk to her—but if I were to be perfectly honest, I’d have to admit there had been too many coincidences concerning Sonny and the messages that she had purportedly received from animals for me to ignore. Whether it was because she was talking to them, or because of her natural empathetic personality, she did have a demonstrably calming effect on most dogs. Besides, Aunt Mart had sent home enough leftovers to feed an entire kennel club, Buck was working late and Sonny was pleasant company.
    When I told her that my aunt, not I, was in charge of the kitchen, Sonny didn’t hesitate to accept my invitation to supper. I’m sure the chocolate layer cake had nothing to do with it.
    When introducing a new dog to the household, the best thing to do is to arrange a first meeting on neutral ground—in a park, on a street corner, or some other place where neither the resident dogs nor the new dog has a territorial stake. My version of neutral territory was the kennel play yard, which hundreds of strange dogs passed through every year, and where all of my resident dogs were accustomed to playing with visitors.
    I placed Hero the Lab in the play yard and, one by one, brought out my own dogs to meet him. Part of my evaluation, before placing him with a rescue group, would be to determine how he reacted to strange dogs. His reaction was completely noncommittal. First I brought out Majesty, who is the most inoffensive dog I own, who did the whole circle-and-sniff bit while