Page 24 of No More Hiding

8

Land Of The Living

“Did you name your dog yet?”

Brent had been ignoring texts from his mother for days. Not on purpose as much as work was piling up. It’s not like he could say that to anyone either. But when Homeland Security calls you on a secure phone and then sends you encrypted data, you stop what you’re doing and focus on that.

Hell, Sammie was getting fed up too, and he felt so bad about it that he’d brought his laptop outside under the patio and sweated his balls off to work so that the puppy could get some pent-up energy out running in the yard.

Once he realized that worked, he’d done it on and off throughout the past few days. Everyone was happy.

Except his mother, it seemed by the tone of her voice when he answered her phone call today.

“Yes, I named her. You don’t really think I’d be calling her ‘hey you’ or ‘puppy’ all this time, do you?”

“I never know with you,” his mother said. “You’ve had her six days now and I haven’t talked to you once. I was debating sending up flares or driving over to make sure she didn’t smother you in your sleep for not feeding her.”

He laughed. “She might smother me when she’s on my pillow at night. Talking to her and telling her to stay at the bottom of the bed doesn’t do much good.”

“I knew you were a softy,” she said.

“It’s that or listen to her cry all night. I need sleep too. I can’t lie down and nap all day like she does.”

“So, what is her name or are you going to make me guess?”

“Sammie,” he said.

“Oh, Brent.”

“Don’t go there,” he said.

“But you know Maureen would love that.”

He stopped himself from saying “she does.” “She would,” he said. “It seemed to fit.”

“And are you both getting some exercise?”

“Sammie more than me. Work has been a little crazy.”

“Then how is she getting exercise if you aren’t taking her out?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t taking her out. I’m just not able to take her for any walks like I did over the weekend. I let her run in the yard to tire her out.”

“You leave her out there alone?” his mother asked.

“Good Lord. I’m going to have to send up flares to get an ambulance there. You sound like you’re going to have a heart attack. No, I don’t leave her alone. When I can I go out with my laptop on the patio while she runs around.”

“It’d be better for her if you interacted. You know, throw a ball now and again.”

He sighed. “I’ll have you know fighting for space on my bed is interaction enough. And I don’t need to throw her a ball when I’ve got a machine to do it.”

“That’s lazy,” his mother said.

“Smart,” he argued. “Now I need to train her to put the ball back in. She doesn’t do that yet.”

“So you have to get up to get the balls?” his mother asked.

“Right now, yes.”