Gunner's Arc

Chapter 8 of 9

Gunner watched Winnie cross the play park. She found a fresh patch of sun near the low fence and dropped into it. She settled low, all four paws under her, chest close to the ground. This was his moment. He wanted her flat. He wanted to knock her over. He crept up behind her. He set his sore legs, aimed his shoulder at her side, and drove forward. He slammed into her. She did not tip. She stayed planted, low and wide, like a stump in the dirt. His weight slid off her flank. His paws skidded on the wood chips. He stumbled past her and caught himself. Winnie turned her head. She did not even stand. "You hit hard," she said. "You still can't move me." Gunner backed up and tried again. He charged her shoulder, then her hip. Each time she pressed lower. She spread her weight across all fours and gave him no gap under her. There was no edge to catch, no high side to topple. He shoved and he strained. She held. He stopped, panting. His legs shook. A laid-back voice spoke from the ramp. The confident dog with the sunglasses lay stretched in a warm square, watching. "You're pushing the wrong part," he said. He did not lift his head. "A dog flat on all fours is a table. You can't flip a table by shoving its top." Gunner stared at him. "Then how?" "You don't." The cool dog yawned. "Not while she's set like that. You wait for her to move." Gunner turned back to Winnie. She was right about him. He was strong. Strength was not the answer. He remembered the black dog at the park. Force chased it off. Stillness drew it close. He remembered the sun. Charging one patch lost. Reading the next patch won. Every real win had come from timing, not muscle. He sat down in the wood chips and made himself calm. He watched his sister. She stayed low as long as he pressed. But a dog cannot stay low forever. The sun would shift. She would rise to follow it. When she rose, she would be tall and narrow, up on her paws, easy to knock. That was his gap. Winnie eyed him over her shoulder. "You gave up fast." "No," Gunner said. "I'm waiting." Her ears twitched. For the first time, she looked unsure. She glanced at the sky, then back at him, and pressed herself even lower into the chips. Gunner did not move toward her. He had learned the truth of this. He could not topple her while she was settled. He had failed at that, cleanly, twice. But he had found the real target. The next time Winnie stood to chase the sun, he would be ready, and he would take her off her feet.