Gunner's Arc

Chapter 7 of 9

Gunner woke to soreness in his legs. The vet shots had faded, but his muscles still ached from the sting. He lifted his head and saw the pale morning light creep across the floor. A bright patch was forming near the window. Winnie was not in the room yet. He had a chance to take the sun spot before she woke. But his food bowl sat empty. His stomach growled. He needed a supply run first. He limped out and down to the cheerful little store with the striped awning and paw prints on the glass. The clerk filled his order. He bought a bag of food and a bone, then carried it home before the morning warmed. By the time he returned, he was too restless to settle. The house felt small. He wanted more. He walked to the enclosed play park with its wooden ramps and low fences. The morning sun there was strong. A confident dog stood by the gate, dark coat sleek, small sunglasses on his snout. He tipped his head at Gunner. "Big one," the cool dog said. "You looking for the warm boards under the ramp?" He nodded toward the platform. "Taken all morning. Sun moved off it anyway." Gunner's ears drooped. The best spot was gone, and the sun had shifted. He remembered what he had learned at home. Do not chase one patch. Chase where the light will land. He studied the sky. A bright square was sliding toward the far corner of the park, wide open and empty. He did not run. He walked, saving his sore legs, and reached the corner before the sun did. He sank down as the warmth spilled across the wood chips and soaked into his fur. Warm. Still. No wind. His. Then a shadow fell over him. Winnie trotted through the gate on all fours. She had followed his trail from home. She stopped when she saw him already lying in the light. "You beat me here," she said. She sat back on her haunches. "Twice now. You learned the trick." Gunner pressed his cheek to the warm chips. "I read the sun," he said. "Like you taught me." Winnie flicked her ear. "Then I need a new trick." She eyed the ramp platform behind them. "Two spots here. I'll take the one you don't." She rose and walked off to find the next patch. Gunner watched her go. Winning the sun felt good, but a smaller want stirred under it. She had walked away calm. Standing. He wanted her flat. He wanted to knock her over the way he once knocked the brown dog in the park. Patience won him the light. It would never win him that. He filed the thought away. Next time she settled into a patch, he would time his charge for the exact moment she dropped, and hit her before she rose.