LITMIR.BIZ

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      Like I was supposed to give him my life’s history.

      “You didn’t ask and he won’t hurt you. If you’re looking for valuables he’ll probably show you where they are. And he’s obedience trained so he won’t be a problem. Just give him a minute to get used to you.”

      “Yeah, right. Dogs hate me.”

      Smart dogs.

      I gathered up the groceries in two heavy armloads and we walked up the sidewalk to the front door, the gun pointed at me discreetly. I noticed the rose bushes were getting ready to bloom and the grass needed cutting. I wasn’t much of a gardener. The roses were there when we moved in, and somebody else had given them a good start. I awkwardly unlocked the front door and pushed my way in. Shadow immediately jumped on our unwelcome guest to say ‘hi’ then he backed off avoiding contact. Smart dog.

      “He’ll be fine in a minute, just pet him and let him smell you.”

      After I put the groceries down I went to see how things were progressing in the dog department. Shadow was in sheepdog mode, positioning himself so he could see everybody.

      “Sit,” I said in a commanding tone. Shadow sat, gazing at me for further direction. “Stay.” The gaze intensified waiting for the release word. “Is it okay if I put the groceries away? I’d like to get the stuff in the refrigerator at least.”

      “Just don’t get out of my sight.”

      I looked down at Shadow. The gaze was still anticipating. “Good Boy!” I said and he bounded after me.

      I put the milk in the fridge and then put the deli meats and cheese in the drawer. The vegetables and fruit went in the vegetable bins, the meat in the freezer. I saved out a package of chicken, putting it in the fridge, just in case I was still alive to cook dinner. I took it for granted he wouldn’t call out for pizza.

      I continued until all the groceries were put away. I couldn’t keep still. I was too nervous and I felt like I had to keep busy, demonstrate that I wasn’t going to turn on him, let him think he could trust me, buy some time. Predictable motion promotes trust, was my theory. He walked down the hall, taking inventory of the rooms and any problems they might cause. He unplugged the phones, locked the three bedroom doors and closed them, checked the back door to make sure it was locked and the curtains were drawn, took my cell phone and pocketed it. I was glad he didn’t check my bedroom closet. There were two rifles, two handguns and plenty of ammo in there. Now they were safely locked up. I was half glad and half disappointed. That might have come in handy to make my escape, but intuition told me to play along with him for now.

      “So,” I said, “what’s the plan?”

      “I need a place to stay for a few days that’s nice and quiet. Soon as I get ahold of a friend of mine, he’s going to pick me up and we’ll be outa here.”

      “So, what’s the plan for me?”

      “You do what I say, nobody gets hurt. You foul things up, you’re gonna get hurt. You foul things up bad, I’ll kill you. I don’t want to kill you. I need you for insurance. Plus shooting makes a lot of noise and usually draws the cops. I don’t want that.”

      “And when you leave?”

      “Depends on the circumstances, no promises.”

      Okay, I could deal with that. In fact, it was better than I expected.

      Things quieted down after that. Shadow seemed to accept his new visitor. After a while Shadow’s afternoon routine brought him pacing in front of me. Shadow is a Shetland sheepdog, commonly known as a sheltie. They are smart but they tend to recognize patterns and once things become routine they lock into that pattern. It was mid afternoon and to Shadow that meant lunchtime. I could ignore him for a while but Shadow knew what time it was and he was going to keep reminding me.

      “Shadow says it’s lunch time,” I said. “Is it okay if I feed him? All I gotta do is put a cup of food in his bowl and he’ll leave us alone.”

      “Okay,” he replied warily, “but I’m gonna follow you.”

      I went to get Shadow’s bowl, took it to the dog food bin and measured out the right amount, poured it in the bowl and took it back to his spot. Sure enough, carjacker dude followed every step of the way. Shadow knew the routine. He sat waiting for me to put down the bowl. When he was a pup he bowled me over trying to get to his food, so we established this routine. I get the food, he sits and waits for the okay. I set the bowl down.

      “Okay”, I said brightly, “You can get it!” The magic word was spoken so he was free to eat. He dove in enthusiastically.

      Five seconds later he was back, but the routine had been followed so I was off the hook. Normally, Shadow was a working dog out of a job. A sheep dog with no sheep, he took his position in the house seriously. I was his lone sheep and it was his job to keep track of me. Now with another person here, there were two sheep. Two boring sheep. He looked at me like the job was getting too cushy. Normally I helped fill his day with doggie chores. We played fetch and did obedience exercises in the backyard. Since sitting and staying and heeling weren’t much in the way of work, we started adding agility equipment to the backyard. The agility course was calling to him, all those fun obstacles for a sheep dog to play on. It wasn’t complete. I had several more obstacles I needed to build, but to him it was like doggy Disneyland. I could see it was calling to him. Sorry, boy.

      We sat in my living room, the gun always pointing at me. He seemed calmer. I was getting bored and antsier by the minute. It felt like I was sitting on a time bomb.

      “Look,” I said, “I don’t know about you, but just sitting around is driving me nuts. Can’t we cook dinner or let the dog out or do anything besides sit here? How long has it been since you ate?”

      “Eating is overrated compared to staying alive. Let me worry about the staying alive part and then we’ll think about the eating part.”

      He took out my cell phone and programmed a number into my speed dial. He hit the number and quickly hung up. I got up and paced, anything besides sitting. The more I sat, the tighter I felt. Action. I needed action. Even risky action. Okay, not too risky. Think, I told myself, as long as you are stuck, you can think. How can we get out of this fix?

      Just then the doorbell rang. We both looked up. What to do?

      “Don’t answer it.”

      “I better. If it’s my neighbor she has a key. If she is here to borrow something she knows she can come in and get it. We borrow stuff from each other all the time.” Okay, so it wasn’t true, but I needed to be able to answer my door in case help showed up.

      “Get rid of her. Don’t let her in. If you want her to live you’ll get rid of her.”

      The bell rang again. I opened the door just wide enough to see out. It was a kid.

      “Hi, Mrs. Callahan, I’m selling candy for my school and I was wondering if you’d like to order some chocolate or cookies. We have other stuff if you’re on a diet.” He thrust the catalog at me and the gun jabbed me in the side.

      “I can’t right now,” I said, “I’m right in the middle of something. When is it due?”

      “Next Thursday,” he said.

      “Can you come back next week? I’ll buy something from you then.”

      “Okay, I’ll try.”

      I closed the door with a relieved whoosh and almost sank to the floor.

      “What makes you think you’ll be here next week? Maybe I’ll take you with me when I go. Maybe you’ll mess up and make me use this gun. Maybe we’ll still be sitting here next week picking off candy salesmen with my .45. You can’t count on next week.”

      I hadn’t even turned around to reply when there was a knock on the door. Scared to answer, I turned around. The knocking turned to banging and I knew it

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