“Aussie, what are you doing in the Franklin County Animal Shelter?”

“I was picked up by the police on a morals charge.”

“You mean soliciting, Auss? Sex for hire?”

“No, cowardice. You drove out to Hyannis to gallivant with a friend and here it poured and thundered. Naturally, I ran.”

“You poor thing.”

“They found me half a mile away trying to hitchhike and they picked me up. I thought they’d bring me home. Instead, they took me to jail.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Of course, it’s terrible. What kind of no-good Commie cops are they? They put me in a cell—isolation, no less. An 11-month-old pup was whinnying all night in the next cell. A skinny Dobie showed me his teeth, probably a user, and Bertha the Pug licked her lips every time she looked at me. How are you supposed to sleep?”

“At least you weren’t out in the monsoon and thunder and lightning, Aussie. I worried all night about that.”

“I didn’t sleep a wink. In the morning they came in and fed me some chicken/rice kibble. I told them I’m organic and non-gluten, but did they care? You know I can’t stand bland food! I asked for some hot sauce, but they said they didn’t carry any. Worcestershire? Thai sauce with coconut milk and lime? Nada. I hate jails like that!”

“But at least you didn’t spend all night outdoors, Auss.”

“I wanted a lift home. Instead, they put me behind bars.”

“I think that’s because you didn’t have your collar on, so they had no idea where home was. I slept downstairs in my office so that I’d hear you if you came in. We left all the doors open and lights on.”

“Who needs lights?”

“Last night, when I came in and heard you were gone, I went everywhere to look for you. Yelled your name out through both car windows. Looked under the shed, under the gazebo, yelled down the dark slope across the Sawmill River. Put up a notice on the internet’s local bulletin board and knocked on neighbors’ doors. By the way, regards from Peter whose barn you love to visit.”

(Sigh) “I love Peter. He may be Black, but I can tell that deep in his heart, he’s MAGA.”

“A lovely woman who works in a vet’s office called me after seeing my notice and gave me some great tips on how to look for dogs who freak out during storms. She suggested I look under sheds and decks, inside barns and open garages, anywhere a dog may go to find shelter. She also said that when dogs get really panicked, they can’t find their way home, sometimes won’t even respond to their human’s voice.”

“So how did you find me?”

“A call came in that you were at the Franklin County Jail House—sorry, I mean the Animal Shelter. Oh Aussie, when I saw you there my heart just melted. Suddenly I got what was the most important thing in the world.”

“Liver?”

“Love, Aussie. Open your heart, admit how much you need others, see them, hear them, feel your heart breaking.”

“I hate sentimental humans.”

“Aussie, I’m glad I was reminded of it this way. I’ve been reminded in other ways, through death or illness. This is much better. Even if they did pick you up on a morals charge.”

“That was bullshit. I know the real reason they picked me up and put me in jail. They were going after the head of the Proud Pooches. First Trump, then Eastman, now me. They start with the lightweights, exercise their muscles, and then come after me.”

“Aussie, you’re being paranoid.”

“They’re sending cops, lightning, thunder, and Noah’s Flood 2.0 after me, and I’m paranoid?”

“Aussie, love is more important than anything else. Coming home in the storm to find you gone broke my heart. And when I heard that the shelter had you, and that you didn’t have to be outdoors that night, I was so relieved. “

“By the way, since I didn’t have my collar with my name and phone number on it, how did they locate you?”

“You have a microchip under your skin, Auss.”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?”