Almost Home Doggie Day Care

This is a short story written by Kim Crumb, one of the owners of Almost Home.  We will add pages to the story weekly.  You can receive a copy of the entire story by coming by our location at: 4925 Gravenstein Highway 116 No., Sebastopol.   

Rover One-4

(Remote Observation Visual Reconnaissance)

by:   Kim Crumb

 The soft covers slid back from Rover One-4’s visual receptors to reveal flames licking at the edge of padded aluminum transport container.  Visual and audio warnings began their insistent flash and beep as her environmental sensors came to life.  For several moments she awaited a human voice, or someone to take up the two control wands clipped inside of the lid.  As no command came to inform her as to the proper response for the situation, her Survival Protocol Override, which had brought her from her slumber, went fully operational.

Despite repeated nudges from her forward olfactory sensor housing, the lid of the container remained only part way open.  After quickly determining that the container was on its side, hard alternating pushes with her front legs gave her enough of an opening to climb out.

The sensor’s warnings increased until she backed from the flames and took in this new problem.  When there was no response to her inquiring noises, once again the override instructed her.  Prior to this situation there been several tests and through her Detect/Learn program she had become highly adaptable to each new situation.

Clear of the immediate danger, she waited for the familiar voice of Roger or Dan to issue further commands. At some level, she hoped it would be Roger, as she was developing an appreciation for the calm tone of his voice when she had responded correctly, or even when she had not.

“

One-4! Come!”  The desperate edge in Roger’s voice carried over the popping and crackling.  A hand rose up from beyond the flames.  “Here!”  

In spite of the increased beeps and flashes she moved toward the flames, her indicators briefly going wild as she breached the fire and stopped beside the man still strapped into his seat.  Only Roger’s upper body was visible to her and she hesitated to processe the situation, noting a red fluid running down into his left eye and that he blinked repeatedly.

“Good girl, One-4.  Turn ninety degrees left and hold.”

After responding, she turned her head to observe him carefully taping a tight circular pattern just ahead of her rear leg.

“Dan is dead, I’m hurt really bad and nothing short of a set of Jaws of Life and a half dozen firefighters could get me out of here.”  He sucked in a ragged breath.  “You know, a while back it came to me that using you as a weapon of war would eventually be death sentence for every dog that looked like you.  Maybe I’ve been given a chance to fix that.”  A small cover in the artificial wavy black hair swung open and after pausing to regain his breath, he reached in with a finger and something clicked several times.  “This will free you from any remotes.”

She watched how Roger’s fingers smoothed the hair away from the opening before pressing the cover shut.

“We were dodging thunderheads and way off course.” His head sagged to one side, his words slurred.   “Out here it could be months before someone finds us.”

One–4 leaned forward, nudged his hand, then took it gently between her gleaming teeth.

“Go, now.  Protocol Roger’s One-4 CANINE.”