Too Good to Be True - Kristan Higgins [100]
But it was too late. My dog, a blur of white ferocity, streaked across the backyard. Another flash of lightning showed me that the animal was a raccoon. It looked up in alarm, then was gone, under the fence in a hole that Angus had probably dug. A raccoon could do serious damage to my little dog, who wasn’t smart enough to know better. “Angus! Come! Come, boy!” It was no use. Angus rarely obeyed when in pursuit of another animal, and just like that, he, too, was gone, under the fence, after the raccoon.
“Damn it!” I cursed. Turning around, I ran back into the house, grabbed a flashlight then ran back outside, into Callahan’s yard to avoid having to climb over the back fence in my own yard.
“Grace? Everything okay?” The back porch light came on. He was back.
“Angus is chasing a raccoon,” I blurted, running past the deck without stopping, tearing down Cal’s yard to the woods, my breath coming in gasps already. Visions of my adorable little dog with his eye torn out, with slash marks down his back, blood staining his white fur…Raccoons were fierce, and this one could very well tear up my little dog. It had looked much bigger than Angus.
“Angus!” I called, my voice high with fear. “Cookie, Angus! Cookie!”
My flashlight illuminated the raindrops and dripping branches of the state forest. As I crashed forward, twigs snapping in my face, a new fear lanced my stomach. The river. The Farmington River was a hundred yards away, full and dark from the spring rains and snow melt. It was more than strong enough to sweep away a small and not-very-bright dog.
Another light flashed next to mine. Callahan, wearing a slicker and Yankees cap, had caught up.
“Which way did he go?” he asked.
“Oh, Callahan, thank you,” I panted. “I don’t know. He went under the fence. He tunnels. I usually fill them in, but this time…I…I…” Sobs ratcheted out of me.
“Hey, come on. We’ll find him. Don’t worry, Grace.” Callahan slipped his arm around my shoulder, gave me a quick squeeze, then aimed his light overhead into the canopy branches.
“I don’t think he can climb, Cal,” I said wetly, rain and tears mixing on my face as I looked up.
Cal smiled. “The raccoon can, though. Maybe Angus treed him. If we find the raccoon, maybe we’ll find your little dog.”
Smart idea, but after five minutes of shining our flashlights into the branches, we had found neither the raccoon nor my dog. There was no sign of him, not that I was a tracker or anything. We were closer to the river now. That which had once sounded sweet and comforting now sounded menacing and cruel…the uncaring river rushing past, carrying anything along with it.
“So where have you been the past few days?” I asked Callahan, shining my light under a fallen branch. No Angus.
“Becky needed me to do a quick job down in Stamford,” he answered.
“Who’s Becky?”
“The blonde from the bar. She’s an old friend from high school. Works in real estate. That’s how I found this house.”
“You could’ve let me know you were going out of town,” I said, glancing at him. “I was worried.”
He smiled. “Next time I will.”
I called Angus again, whistled, clapped my hands. Nothing.
Then I heard a distant, sharp bark, followed by a yelp, that sickening surprised cry of pain. “Angus! Angus, buddy, where are you?” I called, tripping forward toward the direction of the cry. It came from upriver. In the river? I couldn’t tell.
It was hard to hear over the noise of the rain and flowing water. Images of Angus when I first bought him, a tiny ball of shivering, coconutty fluff…his bright eyes staring at me each morning, willing me to wake up…his funny little Super Dog pose…the way he slept on his back with his paws in the air, his crooked little bottom teeth showing. I was crying harder now. “Angus!” I kept calling, my voice harsh and scared.
We came to the edge of the river. Usually I thought it so beautiful, the rushing, silken water, the stones beneath, the flashes of white where the current collided