The Smoky Corridor

41

Zipper stood on the couch, gazing out the window.

Watching Zack disappear. Again.

His tail wilted.

Where did his boy go every morning, five days in a row?

Was it more fun than staying home and throwing the squishy ball in the backyard?

More exciting than pretending they were on a safari?

More laughs than when all the other boys and girls came by the house and Zipper showed them his tricks?

Hey, where were all those other kids during the day?

Did they go to the same place Zack went?

If so, it must be a fun place.

Very fun.

More fun than the house without Zack.

Zipper sniffed.

Zack’s scent was easy to pick up, even though Judy was burning toast in the kitchen again and the neighbors had just mowed their lawn, because Zack was his extra-special person. Every dog has one. Zack was his.

Zipper tiptoed through the kitchen.

“Going out, Zip?” Judy said as his nails clacked crisply on the tile floor.

Zipper gave her a quick yap and a tail wag.

“Have fun,” she said. “Just don’t water my rosebushes for me.”

He gave her another yap, this one signaling he understood where the approved rest areas were located in the backyard. He stepped through the flapping doggy door.

Judy and George had taught him not to stray beyond the backyard when he went out to do his business. Not to bother the neighbors or venture into the street.

But that had been before Zack started disappearing every morning.

Zipper sniffed twice.

Zack’s scent was in the wind.

All Zipper had to do was follow it.

So he did.