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that she was bent almost totally forward at the waist, she jumped back and straightened up at the startling sight of the blue eyes that peered around the steel Dumpster to take her in.
    They stared at one another, blinking, and Natalie could only see its head, Þ nally Þ guring out that it was a dog making all that noise, a much smaller one than she would have expected. It was chewing on what looked like a dirty piece of pizza crust and eyeing her warily, as if it expected her to pounce at any second and it wanted to be able to sprint away in a ß ash. When she moved, the dog ß inched, so she was careful to move slowly, not wanting to frighten it away.
    • 38 •
    FINDING HOME
    “Hey, there,” she said softly as she squatted to be closer to the dog’s level. It continued to chew slowly, its unexpectedly colorful eyes never leaving her face. “Are you lost?” She held out her hand as it contemplated her and she cooed soothingly at it. “Come here, buddy. It’s a little chilly to be out here all alone, don’t you think?”
    The dog licked its lips as it Þ nished the crust and continued to study her. As it inched slowly out from behind the Dumpster, its gaze shifted from her eyes to her outstretched hand, then back to her eyes again. Remembering a documentary she’d seen recently on the Discovery Channel, she shifted her gaze away, then back, then away, not wanting to issue any kind of challenge by staring directly in the dog’s eyes. This seemed to ease its tension just a touch and it took a step toward her. Its moist black nose twitched, and Natalie knew she was being sized up by smell as well as sight.
    Despite the eventual tingling in her bent legs, she did her best to remain still, to let the dog set the pace and decide when to approach, which it did with painfully slow progress. It wasn’t a very large animal at all, maybe twenty or twenty-Þ ve pounds, and looked scrawnier than Natalie suspected it normally was. Its coat was matted, a mishmash of white, black, gray, and a few dabs of brown, and she had the feeling that when clean and brushed, it would shimmer and shine like silk. One ear was black, the other a speckled gray and white, and if it didn’t look so wary and cautious, Natalie knew it would be a beautiful, possibly loving animal. She had the sudden, almost irresistible urge to Þ nd out.
    The dog continued to inch, his eyes leaving Natalie’s only brieß y for quick checks around to make sure it wasn’t about to be pounced on from another direction. When it got close enough to touch the tips of her Þ ngers with its nose, it stopped.
    “It’s okay,” she whispered, wanting desperately to stand up and ease the prickling caused by the lack of circulation to her feet, but wanting more for the dog to trust her enough to relax.
    • 39 •
    GEORGIA BEERS
    “It’s okay. Are you hungry? I bet Mrs. Valenti’s got something inside for you. Want to ask? Hmm?”
    The dog cocked his head at her and she was sure she could see it debating whether or not she could be trusted. Before she could say anything else, a warm, pink tongue licked her Þ ngertips tentatively.
    “Yeah, you taste that? Cinnamon and ß our and stuff? You want some more? I bet I can Þ nd you a roll or something. You look like you haven’t eaten in a while. I might even have some chicken up in my apartment. What do you say? Hungry?”
    Still wary, the dog suddenly seemed more exhausted than anything else as it crept slightly closer to her, close enough to allow her to dig her Þ ngers into the thick fur around its neck and scratch it. Natalie wondered how long it had been a stray.
    It looked like a purebred to her and she found it hard to believe it wasn’t simply lost. But there was no collar or identifying tags under her Þ ngers, and the condition of the dog’s coat and build told her it had been a while since it had been inside. The idea of somebody abandoning a helpless animal and leaving it to fend for itself made her blood