The Misadventures of a Very Naughty IG – Part 2

This is Part 2 of 2.  See yesterday’s post to read the complete story!

“Strider!  Stop!!”  I cried in extremely clipped tones, utterly breathless with fear.  Strider stopped dead, right at the corner of the trash bin, and looked at me expectantly.  A few more steps, and he would have seen Pippin.  I hardly felt the relief, “Come with me!”  I gasped and blasted towards the truck.  Strider ran obediently alongside me.  “Get in!”  I pointed to the tailgate before I was even there.  Strider lept without hesitation into the back, where he’d spent most of the day, and looked at me.  With a slam, I shut the tailgate, blurted a “Good boy!” to him and raced to arena.  Gasping for breath with all the unusual sprinting, I slowed to a quick walk when I got the door, so as not to draw too much attention, my head weaving back and forth, searching for my brat.  As I passed a group of men, one of them smiled at me and asked, “Are you lookin’ for a dog?”

“Yes Sir, I am,” I replied without stopping, though I slowed and walked slightly sideways to maintain eye contact.

“He went that way,” he said, pointing further back unto the building.

“Thank you!”  I said with a grateful smile that I think seemed calm and pleasant, and turned around with a quickened pace.  At the end of the cattle pens, I saw with a rush of relief that my brother was holding a squirming, obstinate, bratty little Italian Greyhound.  A man was standing beside him, petting the Terror with a rather captivated expression on his face.

“Oh, you found him!”  I gasped and could have melted with the relief I felt.

“Yeah…  He was marching across the dirt here, headed towards the cattle pens,”  my brother said with a contemptuous glance towards the wriggling brat in his arms.

I gathered my Terror in my arms with as profuse thanks as I could give my brother without seeming too worried or silly.  The man standing beside him was still petting Pippin, and said something about how he looked trotting around in there.  I don’t remember now, I guess I wasn’t really listening.  XD  But it was complimentary!  He added that, “He could stay; he wasn’t hurting anything.”

Oh my word, you don’t know Pippin, I thought, but said smilingly that I might bring him back later, but for now I was putting him back in the car.  And so I left them and headed back.  Pippin stopped struggling, but not because he was content, only because I’ve proved to him over and over again that I can hold him no matter how hard he squirms.  He was rather sulky about it.  As we passed the people standing around, we attracted many smiles and the man who had pointed me in the right direction laughed and said, “So you found your runaway, huh?”

“Yes sir!”  I said brightly, masking the relief I felt as best I could.  “And thanks for your help!”

He just laughed, and the group watched us go out the door.  When we were out of sight, I glared at Pippin.  He completely ignored me.  Absolutely, totally, entirely ignored me.  “You…  little…  brat!”  I growled, laying deep and dangerous emphasis on every word.  “Do you have any idea how much trouble you almost caused!?  I should never have let you off your leash!  But I trusted you!  And how did you repay my trust, huh!?”  But he didn’t care.  Not a bit.  He only cared that I had stopped his exploration and that I was shoving him back in the car.  “I don’t feel sorry for you anymore!”  I told him:  which-… wasn’t exactly true.