Chapter Two
Dakota
Sunday
Wow,this was a much bigger deal than Dakota expected.
The spectators lined up along the track and gathered in large crowds around the two challenges Dakota could see.
Tank was handling pre-race nerves pretty well. Though by nature, Tank had a kind of “prince on horseback surveilling the battlefield” demeanor. He would stand regally and look out at his subjects. But like in the monarchy of old, he liked to leap into the fray.
Dakota got it, he really did. His body was happiest when he was pushing his limits.
Which was a good thing.
Excellent, in fact.
About twenty yards from the starting line, concrete water ducts nestled side by side in a line that led to a creek bed.
Yeah, why not start from the beginning with wet shoes?
Having raced his fair share in storm conditions, Dakota had chosen running shoes made for water sports, and he’d wrapped his heels and big toes in duct tape as a potential reprieve from friction blisters. No guarantees.
As the Malinois class sprinted through the pipes, the humans had to scamper on hands and knees. Exiting, the Malinois, waiting for their handlers to get a move on, jumped from water to rock, back into the water. They looked down the tunnel, yipping at their partners, scolding them to hurry; there was fun to be had on the other end. Come on! Come on!
Dakota couldn’t imagine what it was like tethered to a Malinois when they were in high gear. For that matter, Dakotahad never been tethered to any dog. And this first time, with a snowplow of a K9 like Tank? Yeah, this was going to be something.
Dakota could hear the handlers, from inside the concrete pipes, calling out to their partners to sit and wait, but when a Malinois heard a gun go off, the race was afoot.
Dakota glanced down and caught Tank’s gaze. “Apaw, if you will,” he said for Tank’s amusement.
Tank turned and looked at him with a single raised eyebrow.
Once the race wasapaw,these working dogs had their adrenaline pumping, looking for the joy they got from going fast and hard.
The first Malinois teams through the cylinders were now sprinting down the creek bed as their handlers leaped rock to rock.
Dakota watched the teams’ progress, trying to figure out which route looked most efficient.
Beyond that, where the trees opened up to pasture, throngs of people cheered the teams’ approach. In just a moment, heat one would be out of sight.
The German shepherds were up.
The starting announcer called through the megaphone, “Second heat, take your positions!”
Dakota and Tank found their places behind the line.
“Ready? In Three. Two. One.” He dropped his arm as he blew a whistle; there was no second gunshot.
The line of German shepherds charged forward, reaching the tunnels and scrabbling through.
“Here we go, buddy. In. Forward.” Dakota signaled Tank as they took their turn. Tank shot through like a bullet from the barrel. Dakota dropped to a quadruped position and bear-crawled like a cartoon character as fast as he could. The cold, rough concrete scraped his back when his ass went up too high.
Tank had none of the ducking and scrambling. He raced through, stretching the bungee to its elastic limit, and now it was dragging Dakota forward from his hips. Not wanting to lose his teeth on a face plant, he, too, was calling out, “Hold.”
This course and Tank’s physical prowess were definitely going to humble Dakota.
Ah, to be a dog for just one day. Maybe if he gathered enough good karma points in this lifetime, he would reincarnate as a dog like Tank.
