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"What kind of dog?" Keith asked. "Not everybody is as lucky as to find a space wolf." He scratched Kosmo behind the ear. "We did the home check, you read all the books I sent you. Your garden is properly fenced. All that's left is to decide what breed you prefer. If you have any preferences, that is."
"A rabbit dog," Antok said with conviction. "They chase mechanical rabbits. Does your animal shelter have rabbit dogs?"
"Rabbit… dogs?" Keith looked confused for a moment. "Oh, greyhounds, yeah?"
"They are not just gray. They have other colors too. But yes, gray hounds. They said in your television that gray hounds are abused or even killed if they do not earn money. I assume they are held as prisoners before they flee to dog shelters? I wish to help free one." Antok studied Keith's face, frowning slightly. "Are you laughing at me?"
"Wouldn't dream of it," Keith said, covering his mouth with the hand that did not rest on Kosmo's neck. "But it's nice that you chose greyhounds; they are great family dogs. They are super lazy and love cuddling with their human… erm, Galra."
"The online test said such a dog would be suitable for me. Thus, I wish to inquire whether a rabbit dog is willing to come live in my house. We are not done liberating the universe if rabbit dogs are forced to run in an arena."
"It's not like that—" Keith began. "They—"
"Your intel is not correct," Antok cut him off. He flipped open a screen and showed Keith a picture. It was a nice rabbit dog with some kind of blanket thrown over its back. The blanket had Champion embroidered on it. "We fought so that all the universe's beings could be free. These are not. I wish to free a rabbit dog," Antok repeated firmly. "So, do any gladiator dogs live in your shelter? Can I speak with them?"
"I guess you could see them as some kind of gladiators," Keith said slowly. "Hm. There's a thought." He made a deep sigh. "It's true that greyhounds that don't race well are treated badly. Not all of them, though. It's illegal here in Arizona. Greyhound racing, I mean. We have hounds coming in to the shelter from places where it's still legal to race them. There are always some in need of a good home."
"Why do they not rebel?" Antok wanted to know. "They could fight against their oppressors; humans seem inferior to them, slower and with blunt teeth. The fast ones should not comply, but fight."
"Sadly it's not how dogs work, Antok. They are too kind and humans are too cruel."
"And these gray hounds in your shelter?" Antok asked. "You are certain that they wish to move out? I will swear on my honor that they shall meet nothing but kindness in my house."
"The shelter is just to make sure they're safe. It's not a real home. They all wait for a good family to pick them up. You don't mind sharing your bed with a pup, do you? Greyhounds are great couch potatoes."
Antok just stared at Keith with surprise. Humans were indeed strange if they accepted a dog into their family, then refused it an equal share of their belongings. "I will be pleased to share what I own with my dog. Bed and couch. Potatoes too."
Again, Keith looked like he was laughing. Antok ignored it.
"So, tomorrow?" Keith raised an eyebrow. "If you could meet me at the shelter at 10, I could introduce you to some of our dogs."
***
Antok couldn't sleep. He had seen so much war and still he was worried about the rabbit dogs. They went into the arena, running for their lives, nobody caring to listen to their pleas for help. He had thought humans were different than Galra. Kinder. Keith had said that some dogs were the first to be discarded—the slow and the old. Just like in the arena. Dumped on roads, drowned, shot, left to die in the forest. Humans certainly were inventive when it came to cruelty.
Restless and awake, Antok decided to read more about gray hounds, about how to speak with them. He did not wish to impose another act of oppression onto them. They had suffered enough—otherwise they would not have sought shelter from their former humans. Antok needed to know more about how dogs expressed their consent. It was important.
He reached for his phone. It was 3 AM, but it was a question of life and death. He pressed call.
"Ulaz?" he barked when the phone was picked up at the other end.
"Antok, if you are not calling to tell me that the Galaxy Garrison is burning, or that another war has started, I am going to disconnect. So which is it?"
"I wish to rescue a rabbit dog."
"In the middle of the night? And what, if I may inquire, is a rabbit dog?"
"Dogs that run to earn money in the arena.They are called greyhounds. I was visiting the new sports cafe with Keith; we watched the game, and after the humans broadcast a rabbit dog race. We did not watch that. I will go to the greyhound refugee camp tomorrow."
"I am pleased for you, my friend, and for the animal, but I will rip off your tail if you wake me up again to talk about dogs."
Ulaz did sound tired and Antok decided it would be for the best if Ulaz rested until he was less grumpy. "I promise, on my honor. I shall dedicate the hours until then to educate myself on the needs of rabbit dogs. I find that dogs are different from us and, thus, I shall proceed only after having obtained knowledge of their habits and preferences."
"Knowledge or sleep. I am hanging up," Ulaz growled and did so.
Antok still couldn't sleep.
***
Morning came far too early. Antok put down his tablet, his head spinning with knowledge, enough to make anyone dizzy: treats, instincts and needs, leashes and collars, blankets and bones. Vets and walks and fresh water. Communication. He had learned so much about rabbit dogs, and still it was not enough. Asking a dog—any kind of dog—to move in with him was a serious decision.
Antok yawned. He wasn't sure exactly how to speak to the rabbit dogs, the books were not very precise, but he was good at languages. He was a spy after all, used to watching people and their habits. It was important for him to understand greyhounds; he wished to be sure that the one he liked best was willing to leave the shelter in favor of his house and—if the books were right about greyhounds and their habits—his sofa. He did not wish to impose another act of oppression onto them by forcing a rabbit dog to move in with him if it did not want to do so. Those dogs had suffered enough. They had sought shelter from their former guards, and wished for no more torment, Antok was certain.
***
The low concrete building had a sign on it that said Plaht City Animal Rescue. Faint sounds of barking rose to a loud thunder as he walked up the path to the house, rubble rustling beneath his feet. Antok pushed the door open and the noise became almost unbearable. He looked around for any dogs coming to greet him. There were none. Maybe they would not come? Maybe his offer of sanctuary had been refused?
Suddenly there were some commotion and barking. The door in the back swung open and a black rabbit dog came charging in, Keith at its heels.
"Black, stop!"
The gigantic dog didn't listen, but ran up to Antok, coming to a screeching halt behind him. Keith looked stressed, almost scared.
"What are you doing?" Antok asked the dog. "Are you attempting escape?" He turned around and got down on his knees. The dog stared at him with yellow eyes for a moment before it wagged its tail. It made a soft woof.
"I agree." Antok held out his hand to the dog. "I read that it is customary to give treats when you meet a dog. I do not have any, so I apologize."
"He ran away from me. Careful. He's not… friendly," Keith warned. "I wanted to take Paisley, she's so sweet, but he—"
Clearly this was not the rabbit dog that Keith had invited him to visit. "What is wrong with this one?" Antok asked. He liked the dog.
"Black's old. He's grumpy because he's afraid. He was a champion, one of the best, so he was old when he got out. He'll probably have to live here for the rest of his life. It's sad. Not all dogs thrive in a shelter. But there's only so much we can do if nobody wants to take him in."
The rabbit dog whined and sat down on its butt. It looked at Antok expectantly.
"Black, huh?" Antok said, wondering if the rabbit dog wanted to have a conversation with him. "That is a good name." The dog sniffed his hand. "My name is Antok. I live near the Galaxy Garrison. I have a house. There is a garden. And desert. Would you like to run there?" He patted the dog, wondering what kind of human monster had thrown this kind creature away. It was a very nice and polite dog in Antok's opinion.
Antok looked up at Keith. "You said this rabbit dog is angry? But he is not angry at me. Maybe he does not like being imprisoned?" Antok thought he understood. Black had been to war too. He had seen the arena. They were alike, the two of them, a little to the old side, and battle-worn. Antok would give Black a place where he could live in peace, without fear and anger. They both needed that. Antok really liked the dog—Black—and he did not want him to be angry or scared again. It was the kind of dog he had imagined when he decided to ask a rabbit dog to cohabit with him.
"He really doesn't fit in a kennel. Makes him unhappy." Keith reached out and scratched Black on the back. "He likes you, though. It's unusual."
"Maybe he knows that I am here to free a dog from this refugee camp?" Antok sincerely hoped Black wished to be liberated.
"Black picked you already, Antok. He doesn't know you're here to adopt, but he picked you."
"What if he thinks that will not honor my promise and ask him to live with me?" Antok was slightly worried. Black had had a bad life already, and Antok didn't want to make it worse. "Should I tell him in no uncertain terms?"
Black made another whine. He got up, wet nose pressed against Antok's hand, making a funny snuffle into the palm of it. Dogs had very wet noses.
"Just pet him; he'll understand."
Antok scratched Black behind the ears. Standing on three legs, Black waved one hind leg in the air. It looked strange. "Why is he doing that? Do all dogs do it?" Antok hadn't read anything in the books about dogs and their legs. Maybe he read the wrong books? He recalled that Kosmo had done something like it. Maybe it was a universal sign that all dogs understood? He would speak with Black about it later.
"You really, really like him, don't you?"
Antok did like him. Black was nice looking, and he liked being petted. He wasn't loud. He seemed like a suitable companion. Black would do well at the Blade HQ, Antok decided. Black could get his own chair there, in his office, a soft and comfortable chair, suitable for a greyhound. Antok nodded. "I do not think I wish to speak with any other dogs."
"If you are sure… he is a handful."
Antok did. He put his hand on Black's head. It almost disappeared into his huge hand as he stroked the dog—his dog—gently. Not that much of a handful, at least not compared to him. "Keith says it is acceptable if you wish to come live in my house," he told Black. "We would go for walks. Would you li—" Before Antok finished the sentence, Black jumped up and down, whining eagerly. "Oh!" Antok gasped. "He understood that!"
With a chuckle, Keith reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out lead and collar. "Maybe you should put this on him, then? They are his. You can use them until you can go buy a new set."
Antok took the lead. He would rather that Black walked home with him by choice, but he knew that collars were necessary for rabbit dogs and their safety. Black stood patiently as Antok, slightly clumsy, put the collar around his neck. Black took up his happy dance as soon as he was done.
"He really likes going for walks." Antok patted Black gently, trying not to get entangled in the leash as Black continued to tell them how pleased he was to be asked to walk with them.
Finally done with the dance of happiness, Black calmed down, walking nicely on the leash as Keith opened the door, letting them out. They walked down the dirt road, a few birds chattering at them as they went past them, Black snuffling and wagging his tail.
"So what do you wanna do?" Keith asked. "There are younger and easier dogs… if you'd prefer to think it over? Not that I'd be sorry to see Black go."
Antok looked down at Black, who in turn was looking up at him, tongue lolling. He was used to weighing his options, taking swift yet logical decisions. He had thought about it enough. He patted Black on the back. This rabbit dog had found his family.
"I believe my couch is big enough for both of us." Antok couldn't wait to be back, sharing his house with Black.
"Go on, then," Keith said, smiling. "Black is ready to go home."