Watchers

her life energy but the pure, untapped energy of the unborn in her womb.
    Feeling like a million bucks, he returned to his van, drove home, showered, and went out to dinner at the nearest Stuart Anderson steak house, where he treated himself to filet mignon.
     
     
6
    Einstein bolted past Travis, out of the kitchen, across the small dining room, disappearing into the living room. Carrying the leash, Travis went after him. Einstein was hiding behind the sofa.
    Travis said, “Listen, it’s not going to hurt.”
    The dog watched him warily.
    “We’ve got to take care of this before we go off to Vegas. The vet will give you a couple of shots, vaccinate you against distemper and rabies. It’s for your own good, and it really won’t hurt. Really. Then we’ll get you a license, which we should’ve done weeks ago.
    One bark. No.
    “Yes, we will.”
    No.
    Crouching, holding the leash by the clip with which he would attach it to the collar, Travis took a step toward Einstein.
    The retriever scrambled away. He ran to the armchair, leaped up, and stood on that observation platform, watching Travis intently.
    Coming slowly out from behind the sofa, Travis said, “Now, you listen up, fur face. I’m your master—”
    One bark.
    Frowning, Travis said, “Oh, yes, I am your master. You may be one damn smart dog—but you’re still the dog, and I’m the man, and I’m telling you that we’re going to the vet.”
    One bark.
    Leaning against the dining-room archway, arms folded, smiling, Nora said, “I think he’s trying to give you a taste of what children are like, in case we ever decide to have any.”
    Travis lunged toward the dog.
    Einstein flew off his perch and was already out of the room when Travis, unable to halt, fell over the armchair.
    Laughing, Nora said, “This is vastly entertaining.”
    “Where’d he go?” Travis demanded.
    She pointed to the hallway that led to the two bedrooms and bath.
    He found the retriever in the master bedroom, standing on the bed, facing the doorway. “You can’t win,” Travis said. “This is for your own good, damn it, and you’re going to have those shots whether you like it or not.”
    Einstein lifted one hind leg and peed on the bed.
    Astonished, Travis said, “What in the hell are you doing?”
    Einstein stopped peeing, stepped away from the puddle that was soaking into the quilted bedspread, and stared defiantly at Travis.
    Travis had heard stories of dogs and cats expressing extreme displeasure by stunts like this. When he had owned the real-estate agency, one of his saleswomen had boarded her miniature collie in a kennel for two weeks while away on vacation. When she returned and bailed out the dog, it punished her by urinating on both her favorite chair and her bed.
    But Einstein was not an ordinary dog. Considering his remarkable intellect, the soiling of the bed was even more of an outrage than it would have been if he had been ordinary.
    Getting angry now, moving toward the dog, Travis said, “This is inexcusable.”
    Einstein scrambled off the mattress. Realizing the dog would try to slip around him and out of the room, Travis scuttled backward and slammed the door. Cut off from the exit, Einstein swiftly changed directions and dashed to the far end of the bedroom, where he stood in front of the dresser.
    “No more fooling around,” Travis said sternly, brandishing the leash.
    Einstein retreated into a corner.
    Closing in at a crouch, spreading his arms to prevent the dog from bolting around either side of him, Travis finally made contact and clipped the leash to the collar. “Ha!”
    Huddled defeatedly in the corner, Einstein hung his head and began to shudder.
    Travis’s sense of triumph was short-lived. He stared in dismay at the dog’s bowed and trembling head, at the visible shivers that shook the animal’s flanks. Einstein issued low, almost inaudible, pathetic whines of fear.
    Stroking the dog, trying to calm and reassure him, Travis said, “This really is for your own good, you know. Distemper, rabies—the sort of stuff you don’t want to mess with. And it will be painless, my friend. I swear it will.”
    The dog would not look at him and refused to take heart from his assurances.
    Under Travis’s hand, the dog felt as if he were shaking himself to pieces. He stared hard at the retriever, thinking, then said, “In that lab . . . did they put a lot of needles in you? Did they hurt you with needles? Is that why you’re afraid of