Now, though, he’d broken out a window, and the cold and snow entered the car. He went back for the moving blanket, trying not to think about why he’d used it that morning, and covered up the broken window, using the door itself to seal it as well as he could.
Then he hunched down into his coat, popping the collar high, and waited.
~oOo~
The woman woke before the EMTs arrived, and she spent five minutes shouting and whining about her broken window, complaining about people butting in where they weren’t needed, and generally being a pain in Dex’s ass. But she didn’t try to get out of the car or even unclasp her seatbelt, so he stood there and ignored her until a fire truck, ambulance, and police cruiser all arrived on the scene.
He knew a lot of Tulsa cops, but he didn’t know this one. His kutte was in his truck, so he played it straight as he gave his statement. Just a dude out in the storm who stopped to help one of his fellow humans out.
“I want his name! He broke my window!” said fellow human demanded as she was eased from the car—using the passenger side he’d made available. They had her in a neck immobilizer and were working her onto a backboard, so maybe she should shut the fuck up and be grateful he’d been there to call it in.
“Don’t worry about her,” the cop told him as Dex signed the statement form. “We’ll talk her down. You did a good thing, helping her. On a day like today, she’s all kinds of lucky you stopped.”
“Thanks. We good? I got dogs at home to get back to.”
“Yeah, we’re done.” He handed Dex a business card. “We need anything more, we’ll be in touch, or if you think of something. But I doubt there’s more here.”
Dex nodded, took the card, and slipped it into his coat. “Okay. Have a good evening.”
The cop laughed. “Weather like this, my evening is sure to suck. Have a good one for us both.”
~oOo~
When he finally got home, the dogs greeted him in their usual way. To a casual observer it probably would look like chaos, all those dogs bouncing and wagging around him, crowding his front hall, but anyone who really knew dogs would see the pack relationships at work. Charlie got to him first, and the other dogs, even blind Lennie, held back until their alpha had greeted him and it was their turn in the pack order to do the same.
There were a lot of people who said they knew how to train dogs, even some who made a living at it, who believed dogs saw their human as the alpha of their pack. But that was simplistic enough to be downright wrong. It discounted canine instinct and intelligence and misread pack behavior.
You did not want a dog to think of any human as an alpha. If they identified one human that way, they’d perceive any other human entering their territory as an intruder.
Also, dogs were smart enough, and had noses good enough, to discern between a human and a dog. His dogs knew he was not one of them. Thus, he was not their alpha. Charlie was their alpha.
Dex was their god.
All other humans were godlike as well. Some of those gods might be enemies, and the dogs might need to fight them off to defend their pack, but that was for Dex and Charlie to say.
On the flip side, these dogs were Dex’s best friends. In some ways they were even kind of his children. But they were so well behaved, their previous outlaw behaviors remediated, because Dex had trained them as if he were their god.
“Okay, okay,” he said, crouching to pick up Lizzie and tuck her in his arm. “Anybody want to play in the snow?” Like the Pied Piper, he led his pack down the hall, past the kitchen and dining room, to the living room. He opened the slider to the back yard. Charlie and Ripper bounded out at once and flew deep into the yard, running through the perfect snow, their tails high, their mouths snapping at the flakes coming down.
George and Lennie went out more carefully, Lennie with his nose up, taking great whiffs of snowy air, and George keeping close but having to hop a bit to clear the snow as he walked.
Little Lizzie sat in his arm and watched her brothers. Her ears were perked up high and her eyes were keen, but she was in no rush to leave his hold.
He bent and set her on the patio. Right near the house, where the patio was under cover, the snow was only a few inches deep. His prissy little criminal put two small paws into the snow and hopped back. She sat beside his boot and looked up at him accusingly.
“You gotta do some business at least, princess.” She looked out at the yard. After a second, she took a deep inhale and then sneezed; apparently she’d gotten a snoot of snow.
“Go on, Liz. I don’t want to find a turd behind the couch again.” He snapped his fingers, got her attention, and made the sign for her to do her business.
Gingerly, she took a step, and then another. Halfway across the patio, she turned back as if double checking that he really meant to make her go out in this mess. He made the sign again.
She found the trench Ripper had made bounding happily through the yard, and used it to pick her way carefully forward. The second she hit a place where approved business could happen, she squatted. And then she ran back to the door.
Dex let her come inside with him. He dried her off and got busy making their dinner.
~oOo~
While the dogs ate in the kitchen, Dex went back to the living room and got a little fire going in the fireplace. When that was working on getting hot and pretty, he returned to the kitchen and made himself a quick dinner.
He wasn’t a great cook, but he hated frozen dinners—they were too bland and too small—so he’d taught himself enough to make a decent meal for one. Tonight, he thawed a couple chicken breasts in the microwave, chopped them up and sautéed them in seasoned oil with some broccoli and cashews, popped a bag of instant basmati rice in the microwave, and mixed the mess together with some soy sauce. He grabbed a beer and carried his dinner past his mostly empty dining room to the living room.
As he settled in, Dex looked out his big picture window. The long twilight of the winter storm had finally passed through actual twilight, and the world outside was dark and silent. Streetlights and porch lights were haloed by the snow, which continued to fall with size and force. He guessed there was already a foot on the ground, and it didn’t look like the new stuff was slowing down. Twelve to fifteen inches was probably a conservative estimate.
But it was warm in his house. He was ensconced on his comfy couch with Lennie and George curled up on one side of him, Lizzie on the other. Charlie and Ripper were coiled on their beds before the fire. Everybody was fed and warm and content.
He had decent food and cold beer, his dogs keeping him company, and a Roku to entertain him. And nothing on his agenda for the weekend.
Let it snow. Let it slow and quiet the world for a few days. That would be just fine with him.
He had everything he needed right here.