in the passenger seat and studied the neighborhood as we drove in. It was midday. Quiet. I lived in a small house in a well-kept older neighborhood. One window faced the street.
I pointed at my small desert sand stucco house with blue trim and he pulled into the driveway signaling that I should open the garage. I pushed the button and the door went up to reveal a wall of boxes. Somehow we had moved in and were comfortably settled with only half our possessions unpacked. I’ve heard this isn’t unusual. Mr. Carjacker wasn’t happy about the garage situation. He closed the garage, then backed the Jeep so it was visible from the living room window.
“Now, I want you to go in the house, nice and easy. I don’t want to have to shoot you in the yard. That would cause a scene and I need things to stay nice and quiet.”
“No,” I said, “I am not letting you in that house.”
A grim expression crossed his face. His eyes narrowed. “Okay, well, then I guess I’ll have to choose another house. How about that house on the end?
Looks like there’s more hostages down there. ‘Course, I only need one. And I’d have to take you with me. Can’t leave you alone to go calling the cops.”
I looked down the street. Mrs. Gonzales was outside with two of her kids cleaning up the yard. I’d let him kill me before I’d sick him on another person. Okay, so I’d go in the house. I could hear barking coming from the living room. It was my dog, Shadow. He wouldn’t be any help in my current predicament. He was too friendly. I hoped he wouldn’t end up with a bullet through his brain.
“You didn’t tell me you had a dog.”
Like I was supposed to give him my life’s history.
“You didn’t ask and he won’t hurt you. If you’re looking for valuables he’ll probably show you where they are. And he’s obedience trained so he won’t be a problem. Just give him a minute to get used to you.”
“Yeah, right. Dogs hate me.”
Smart dogs.
I gathered up the groceries in two heavy armloads and we walked up the sidewalk to the front door, the gun pointed at me discreetly. I noticed the rose bushes were getting ready to bloom and the grass needed cutting. I wasn’t much of a gardener. The roses were there when we moved in, and somebody else had given them a good start. I awkwardly unlocked the front door and pushed my way in. Shadow immediately jumped on our unwelcome guest to say ‘hi’ then he backed off avoiding contact. Smart dog.
“He’ll be fine in a minute, just pet him and let him smell you.”
After I put the groceries down I went to see how things were progressing in the dog department. Shadow was in sheepdog mode, positioning himself so he could see everybody.
“Sit,” I said in a commanding tone. Shadow sat, gazing at me for further direction. “Stay.” The gaze intensified waiting for the release word. “Is it okay if I put the groceries away? I’d like to get the stuff in the refrigerator at least.”
“Just don’t get out of my sight.”
I looked down at Shadow. The gaze was still anticipating. “Good Boy!” I said and he bounded after me.
I put the milk in the fridge and then put the deli meats and cheese in the drawer. The vegetables and fruit went in the vegetable bins, the meat in the freezer. I saved out a package of chicken, putting it in the fridge, just in case I was still alive to cook dinner. I took it for granted he wouldn’t call out for pizza.
I continued until all the groceries were put away. I couldn’t keep still. I was too nervous and I felt like I had to keep busy, demonstrate that I wasn’t going to turn on him, let him think he could trust me, buy some time. Predictable motion promotes trust, was my theory. He walked down the hall, taking inventory of the rooms and any problems they might cause. He unplugged the phones, locked the three bedroom doors and closed them, checked the back door to make sure it was locked and the curtains were drawn, took my cell phone and pocketed it. I was glad he didn’t check my bedroom closet. There were two rifles, two handguns and plenty of ammo in there. Now they were safely locked up. I was half glad and half disappointed. That might have come in handy to make my escape, but intuition told me to play along with him for now.
“So,” I said, “what’s the plan?”
“I need a place to stay for a few days that’s nice and quiet. Soon as I get ahold of a friend of mine, he’s going to pick me up and we’ll be outa here.”
“So, what’s the plan for me?”
“You do what I say, nobody gets hurt. You foul things up, you’re gonna get hurt. You foul things up bad, I’ll kill you. I don’t want to kill you. I need you for insurance. Plus shooting makes a lot of noise and usually draws the cops. I don’t want that.”
“And when you leave?”
“Depends on the circumstances, no promises.”
Okay, I could deal with that. In fact, it was better than I expected.
Things quieted down after that. Shadow seemed to accept his new visitor. After a while Shadow’s afternoon routine brought him pacing in front of me. Shadow is a Shetland sheepdog, commonly known as a sheltie. They are smart but they tend to recognize patterns and once things become routine they lock into that pattern. It was mid afternoon and to Shadow that meant lunchtime. I could ignore him for a while but Shadow knew what time it was and he was going to keep reminding me.
“Shadow says it’s lunch time,” I said. “Is it okay if I feed him? All I gotta do is put a cup of food in his bowl and he’ll leave us alone.”
“Okay,” he replied warily, “but I’m gonna follow you.”
I went to get Shadow’s bowl, took it to the dog food bin and measured out the right amount, poured it in the bowl and took it back to his spot. Sure enough, carjacker dude followed every step of the way. Shadow knew the routine. He sat waiting for me to put down the bowl. When he was a pup he bowled me over trying to get to his food, so we established this routine. I get the food, he sits and waits for the okay. I set the bowl down.
“Okay”, I said brightly, “You can get it!” The magic word was spoken so he was free to eat. He dove in enthusiastically.
Five seconds later he was back, but the routine had been followed so I was off the hook. Normally, Shadow was a working dog out of a job. A sheep dog with no sheep, he took his position in the house seriously. I was his lone sheep and it was his job to keep track of me. Now with another person here, there were two sheep. Two boring sheep. He looked at me like the job was getting too cushy. Normally I helped fill his day with doggie chores. We played fetch and did obedience exercises in the backyard. Since sitting and staying and heeling weren’t much in the way of work, we started adding agility equipment to the backyard. The agility course was calling to him, all those fun obstacles for a sheep dog to play on. It wasn’t complete. I had several more obstacles I needed to build, but to him it was like doggy Disneyland. I could see it was calling to him. Sorry, boy.
We sat in my living room, the gun always pointing at me. He seemed calmer. I was getting bored and antsier by the minute. It felt like I was sitting on a time bomb.
“Look,” I said, “I don’t know about you, but just sitting around is driving me nuts. Can’t we cook dinner
