The Storm by Dayna Lorentz Page B

that door.’ I’m about ready to lock myself back in my den and take my chances with the storm.”
    â€œI hear you, buddy,” Shep moaned, flopping down beside him.
    Zeus wagged his tail. “The yellow dog is a little off,” he said. “We found one other dog, but his door had some sort of chain holding it shut. We called the Furface over to help, but he had no idea what to do.” Zeus had apparently taken to calling Higgins “the Furface.”
    â€œWe had one snob who wanted to be left in her den,” Shep woofed. “And one old timer girldog who couldn’t undo the lock on her door.” Shep licked his paws, hoping to hide from Zeus how upset he was about the old timer.
    â€œGood riddance,” Zeus said. “Last thing we need is a pain in the tail purebred and an old yapper.”
    â€œYeah,” Shep replied, trying to sound casual. He tried to push from his mind the image of the old timer alone and scared in the dark. Why couldn’t he be like Zeus? He didn’t want to care about these other dogs! But still, the feelings pressed on him like heavy paws. Shep even felt bad about leaving the snobby purebred behind. What if a tree broke her window? She might wish she’d taken Shep up on his rescue offer, but it’d be too late.
    â€œI smell twelve other dogs,” Callie barked loudly from within a tangle of leaves. “Frizzle says you only found two, which means there are still ten dogs trapped in this building.”
    â€œI heard a howl from above Zeus’s den,” Shep woofed.
    Callie burst out of the plant and slid to the middle of the entry room. “Then we’ve got to get up there,” she yapped.
    Zeus stood and shook himself. “I don’t care if there are fifty dogs still trapped in this building, I’m going to bed.”
    â€œI wouldn’t go back to your den, dog,” Frizzle woofed. “Not unless you’re looking to take a Bath.”
    â€œI’ll go where I want, yapper,” Zeus growled.
    â€œFine,” Frizzle snarled. “You smell like you could use a Bath, anyway.”
    Zeus whirled like a wind and snapped his teeth a whisker-length from Frizzle’s snout. The little dog was so startled, he peed.
    Zeus panted as he lifted his head. “Not so tough now, eh?” He loped into the dark of Higgins’s den.
    Callie crept toward Frizzle, tail low. “You okay?” she snuffled.
    Frizzle shook himself. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he grunted. “Big fuzz head. Had to sneak up on me, see that? He knew I’d get him in a fair fight.” He licked Callie on the nose.
    She raised her wagging tail. “Yeah,” she yipped. “I know you would.”
    Callie turned to Shep. “We’d best get moving on finding those other dogs. You’ll help me, right?”
    Shep lifted his head. Callie’s eyes were wide and hopeful, and her little tail wagged back and forth. She panted lightly, mouth open, jowls curled up, and her ears bobbed with each breath. How could Shep say no to that muzzle?
    â€œYeah, Big Nose,” yapped Frizzle. “You’ll help us.”
    There it was — the reason to say no. But then he thought of the cracked wall and the howl from above, of that scared old-timer, of how frightened he’d been without food and water. How could he sleep when he knew other dogs were in trouble, feeling desperate and alone? It wouldn’t take too long to check the other floors. And soon it would be light out and the storm would be over and he could go home. Why not help them out this one last time?
    â€œFine,” Shep barked. “But how do we get up to these other floors? There’s a stairwell in my building, but I don’t see a stairwell here.”
    The yellow dog began panting and wagging her tail excitedly. “I know!” she barked. “Those metal doors over there.” She waved her nose at the two shiny