Search And Rescue. Valerie Hansen

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      Two leaps and a skid on the slick, marbled vinyl floor took Phoenix straight to the refrigerator. Tongue lolling, he danced in circles.

      Sophie had to laugh. She cupped his furry face on each side and gazed into his light brown eyes, positive they reflected intelligence. “Dogs eat dog food out of bowls in this house,” she told him. “Didn’t they teach you safety in those other places?”

      He barked in her face. “Eww, dog breath,” she joked. “Follow me and pay attention. Lesson one is going to keep you from getting poisoned.”

      Sadly, it was necessary to teach working dogs to ignore treats from strangers in order to protect them. The Canyon County Training Center did allow their graduates to eat from a human partner’s hand, but only when given a specific command.

      With Phoenix close at her heels, Sophie pulled out two weighted dog dishes and placed them on a mat beside the back door. The expression on his face when he saw they were empty made her laugh again. “Patience, buddy. I’m working on your dinner.”

      He watched her every move, quivering with excitement before she released him to eat. Then he approached his food as if he’d been starving. That kind of dog could be harder to train to leave food fragments alone but considering his rapid improvement she felt confident he was a quick learner.

      As soon as he’d licked up the last crumb and polished the food dish with his tongue, Sophie accompanied him outside.

      The instant his paws hit the porch, Phoenix bristled and began to growl. Sunset was casting her small backyard in long shadows, the lingering heat making portions of the ground shimmer.

      Sophie followed the dog’s line of sight to her chain-link fence and past it to a stand of ancient ponderosa pines. The climate might not be conducive to grass and a lot of greenery but it was perfect for drought tolerant trees and scrub brush. Normally, that kind of growth made it easier to spot threats but at this time of day every silhouette seemed to mask danger.

      A gust of wind lifted her hair, bringing a welcome draft of cooler air. She squinted to see what was bothering Phoenix. If he was the kind of dog who alerted at every lizard or blowing leaf he might not be suitable after all.

      Opening her mouth to speak, Sophie never had the chance. Phoenix leaped off the porch without touching the steps and tore toward the wire fence. His bark was fierce, his hackles bristling.

      When she saw the problem her heart skipped a beat. A large rattler was coiled, ready to strike, mere feet in front of the dog. If she called him now and he turned his back on the reptile he was sure to be bitten!

      Although she was still armed she didn’t want to shoot so close to civilization unless she had to. Praying silently, she slipped off the porch and opened the door of her metal toolshed.

      A broom would only irritate the snake and a shovel was too unwieldy. A hoe, however, was ideal. If she couldn’t scare off the rattler she might be able to pin its head long enough for Phoenix—and herself—to escape. It wouldn’t be the first snake she’d routed since coming to Desert Valley, but it was the first incident involving a working dog. If the fangs pumped venom directly into a dog’s head, the chance of survival wasn’t good.

      Phoenix was still barking when Sophie approached behind him. Too bad she and the Australian shepherd didn’t know each other well. If they had, she would be able to better predict his reactions.

      Staying to one side, Sophie inched closer. There was no way she could swing faster than a snake could strike. The trick would be getting the metal blade of the hoe between it and her dog, then trying to pin it or push it away. If it had recently fed and was only defending itself, it might turn and flee.

      Another short step closer. And another. She extended the hoe. The snake’s forked tongue flashed out, its mouth opening. She could see folded fangs descending. It was ready. So was she.

      Phoenix backed up slightly. The rattler’s head rose. Sophie was out of time and she knew it. She thrust the blade forward. Her aim was accurate. With one lunge she managed to force the viper’s triangular head to the ground.

      Startled, Phoenix jumped back. He began to circle her, barking, while the snake writhed, struggling to get free. As soon as she was certain the dog was out of striking distance she gave the blade a last push, dropped the handle and made a dash for the back door.

      She didn’t get far. A slightly smaller rattlesnake was crossing her path. Two more were curled up on her back porch! Incredulous, she climbed onto an old rickety picnic table, hoping it wouldn’t collapse under her weight.

      “Phoenix, come!” The order was more than forceful. It was filled with alarm.

      Sophie braced herself as the dog vaulted to the bench, then joined her atop the table. Encountering one venomous snake wasn’t that unusual in the desert but this... This was incredible. Why in the world had they suddenly invaded? There was no wildfire to drive them into her yard. And if there had been a den located nearby she should have noticed problems right away, not several years after moving in. Such reptile gatherings tended to be seasonal and this was her third summer here.

      Wide-eyed, she scanned the ground around the table and noted three more reptiles. They instinctively knew that direct August sun would kill them and had taken refuge in shady spots. Unfortunately, some were resting between the picnic table and her kitchen door. Once night fell they’d move. But by then she’d have trouble seeing well enough to avoid being bitten, not to mention keeping Phoenix safe.

      Sophie was trapped. Frustrated. Mad at herself. She hadn’t even brought the hoe to the table with her. How long could she stay crouched without her legs and feet going to sleep? And how long could she keep the new dog from attacking the reptilian menace and getting himself killed?

      Easing into a sitting position and preparing to fold her legs, she glanced down. One of the smaller snakes was climbing onto the bench. Once he got that far he’d be able to reach the top of the table! Sophie lowered one foot over the edge, hooked a toe under the side of the bench, and kicked.

      It wobbled. Teetered. When it fell all the way onto its side it was farther away, hopefully far enough to keep all but the largest rattlers from getting to her.

      And speaking of those... A triangular head poked over the edge of the table. Its forked tongue vibrated. There was no way she was going to try to kick this one away.

      Drawing her gun she started to take the standard two-handed aim, then thought better of it and used one hand to grab the dog’s collar so he wouldn’t bolt when she fired so close to him.

      The first shot hit the reptile under the chin and threw it backward. Trembling, Sophie leaned over the table’s edge to make sure she’d killed it—and came face-to-face with its bigger brothers. More shots finished those. By this time, she sincerely hoped her neighbors had heard enough to call the police because she didn’t want to take her eyes off the snakes for a second.

      Up until then, Phoenix had held his position pretty well, considering. Now, however, he rose slowly, hackles bristling, and stared past the side yard to the street beyond. Sophie recognized the dog’s attitude immediately. He was no longer concerned with chasing dangerous snakes. There was something else in his sights. Something he’d sensed was evil without even seeing it.

      She swiveled, kneeling, looked in the same direction and brought the muzzle of her gun up, ready for self-defense.

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