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touch. He was in nap phase when a group of kids ran up requesting his company.

    Boyd opened one eye, readjusted his chin on his paws. A girl of around ten wearing a purple Bible Girl cape and headgear waggled a cornmeal muffin.
    Boyd was off.

    Watching them round the barn, I remembered Katy’s words on the phone about Boyd wanting to have a conversation.

    “What was it the chow wanted to discuss?”

    “Oh, yeah. Dad’s got a trial going inAshevil e , so I’ve been taking care of Boyd.” A thumbnail teased the edge of her Budweiser label. “He thinks he’s going to be there another three weeks. But, um…” She dug a long tunnel in the wet paper. “Wel , I think I’m going to move uptown for the rest of the summer.”

    “Uptown?”

    “With Lija. She’s got this real y cool town house in Third Ward, and her new roommate can’t occupy until September. And Dad’s gone, anyway.” The beer label was now effectively shredded. “So I thought it would be fun to, you know, just live down there for a few weeks. She’s not going to charge me rent or anything.”

    “Just until school starts.”

    Katy was in her sixth and, by parental dictate,lastundergraduate year at theUniversityofVirginia .

    “Of course.”

    “You’re not thinking of dropping out.”

    The World Cup of eye rol s.

    “Do you and Dad have the same scriptwriters?”

    I could see where the conversation was going.

    “Let me guess. You want me to take Boyd.”

    “Just until Dad gets back.”

    “I’m leaving for the beach on Monday.”

    “You’re going to Anne’s place on Sul ivan’sIsland , right?”

    “Yes.” Wary.

    “Boyd loves the beach.”

    “Boyd would loveAuschwitz if they fed him.”

    “Anne wouldn’t mind if you took him with you. And he’l keep you company so you won’t be al alone.”

    “Boyd isn’t welcome at the town house?”

    “It isn’t that he’s unwelcome. Lija’s landlor—”

    From somewhere deep in the woods I heard Boyd’s frantic barking.

    Seconds later, the barking was joined by a blood-chil ing scream.

    Then another.

4
    IBOLTED FROM MY CHAIR,HEART THUDDING IN MY CHEST.

    The picnickers around me appeared as on split screen. Those on the house side of the bluegrass quartet continued their mil ing and chatting and eating, oblivious to whatever calamity might be unfolding in the woods. Those on the barn side formed a frozen tableau, mouths open, heads turned in the direction of the terrible sounds.

    I raced toward the screams, weaving among lawn chairs and blankets and people. I could hear Katy and others close on my heels.

    Boyd had never harmed a child, had never so much as growled at one. But it was hot. He was excited. Had some kid provoked or confused him? Had the dog suddenly turned?

    Sweet Jesus.

    My mind scanned images of mauling victims. I saw gaping slashes, severed scalps. Fear shot through me.

    Rounding the barn, I spotted a break in the trees and veered off on a trickling dirt path. Branches and leaves tugged my hair and scratched the skin on my arms and legs.

    The screams grew shril er, more strident. The spaces between disappeared and the cries blended together in a crescendo of fear and panic.

    I ran on.

    Suddenly, the shrieking stopped. The sound vacuum was more chil ing than the shrieks.

    Boyd’s barking continued, frenzied and unrelenting.

    The sweat went cold on my face.

    Moments later I spotted three kids huddled behind an enormous hedge. Through a gap in the foliage I could see that the two girls were clutching each other. The boy had a hand on Bible Girl’s shoulder.

    The boy and the younger girl were staring at Boyd, expressions of fascination/repulsion distorting their features. Bible Girl had her eyes shut, clenched fists pressed to the lids. Every now and then her chest gave an involuntary heave.

    Boyd was with them on the far side of the hedge, lunging forward then backpedaling, snapping at something a yard from the base of the growth. Every