Tick Tock

leering out at him. It was a dog, an enormous black Labrador.
    Del laughed delightedly and clapped her hands. “I knew you were in there, you naughty little fur ball!”
    Scootie grinned out at them.
    “I knew you'd give Tommy a good scare,” she told the dog.
    “Yeah, just what I needed,” Tommy said, getting to his feet.
    Panting, Scootie came out of the closet. The space was so narrow and the dog so large that it was like a cork coming out of a wine bottle, and Tommy half expected to hear a pop.
    “How'd he get in there?” Tommy wondered.
    Tail wagging furiously, Scootie went directly to Del, and she dropped to her knees so she could pet him and scratch behind his ears. “Him miss mommie, did him? Hmmmmm? Was him lonely, my fuzzy-wuzzy baby, my cutie Scootie?”
    “He couldn't step in there and turn around,” Tommy said. “Not enough room.”
    “He probably backed into it,” Del said, hugging Scootie. “Dogs don't back into things any more than motorcycles do. Besides, how did he get the door shut after he was in there?”
    “It falls shut on its own,” Del said.
    Indeed, the broom-closet door had slowly closed after the Labrador had squeezed out of confinement into the kitchen.
    “Okay, but how did he open it in the first place?” Tommy persisted.
    “Pawed it open. He's clever.”
    “Why did you teach him this?”
    “Teach him what?”
    “To play hide-and-seek.”
    “Didn't teach him. He's always liked to do it.”
    “It's weird.”
    Del puckered her lips and made kissing sounds. The dog took the cue and began to lick her face.
    “That's disgusting,” Tommy said.
    Giggling, Del said, “His mouth is cleaner than yours.”
    “I seriously doubt that.”
    As if quoting from a medical journal, she pulled back from the Labrador and said, “The chemical composition of a dog's saliva makes its mouth a hostile environment for the spectrum of bacteria that are harmful to people.”
    “Bullshit.”
    “It's true.” To Scootie, she said, “He's just jealous, because he wants to lick my face.”
    Nonplussed, blushing, Tommy looked at the wall clock. “Okay, we have the dog, so let's get out of here.”
    Rising to her feet, heading out of the kitchen, with the dog at her heels, Del said, “A waitress's uniform isn't suitable gear for a girl on the lam. Give me five minutes to change clothes, get into jeans and a sweater, and then we can split.”
    “No, listen, the longer we stay in one place, the quicker it's going to find us.”
    In a train—woman, dog, and man—they crossed the dining room as Del said, “Relax, Tommy. There's always enough time if you think there is.”
    “What's that mean?”
    “Whatever you expect is what will be, so simply change your expectations.”
    “I don't know what that means, either.”
    “It means what it means,” she said, enigmatic once more.
    In the living room, he said, “Damn it, wait a minute!”
    Del turned to look at him.
    The dog turned to look at him.
    Tommy sighed, gave up. “Okay, change your clothes. But hurry.”
    To the dog, Del said, “You stay here and get acquainted with Tuong Tommy.” Then she went into the foyer and up the stairs.
    Scootie cocked his head, studying Tommy as if he were a strange and amusing form of life never seen before.
    “Your mouth is not cleaner than mine,” Tommy said.
    Scootie pricked one ear.
    “You heard me,” Tommy said.
    He crossed the living room to the large glass sliding doors and gazed out toward the harbour. Most of the houses on the far shore were dark. Where dock and landscape lamps glowed, attenuated reflections of gold and red and silver light glimmered hundreds of feet across the black water
    After a few seconds, Tommy became aware of being watched—not by someone outside, but by someone inside
    He turned and saw the dog hiding behind the sofa, only its head revealed, observing him.
    “I see you,” Tommy said.
    Scootie pulled his head back, out of sight.
    Along one wall was a handsome entertainment centre and library unit made from a wood with which Tommy was unfamiliar. He went to have a closer look, and he discovered that the beautiful grain was like rippled ribbons that appeared to undulate as he shifted his head from one side to the other.
    He heard noises behind him and knew that Scootie was on the move, but he refused to be distracted from his examination of the entertainment centre. The depth of the glossy lacquer finish was remarkable.
    From elsewhere in the room came the sound of a fart.
    “Bad dog,” he said.
    The sound repeated.
    Finally Tommy