Davyn didn’t know where he was. Well, he was in a kennel, yes. He was in a locked kennel that had been moving for a while, that, yes. But the kennel wasn’t quite moving anymore. It felt like he was in a car – in a trunk, maybe? That would be awful – and the car was moving.
“Bark?” he tried quietly.
“Good puppy, that’s it.” The girl’s voice came from very close – like she was sitting next to Davyn’s kennel. But if she was there, who was driving?
“Listen, my parents are – ow, ow… oww.”
“Good puppies stay quiet, puppy. Now, what do you think I should call you?”
Davyn whined. He had a name. He had parents, who might actually miss him. He had a home, and this whole thing had been a horrible, awful, no-good plan.
“Let’s see. I think… Spots?”
No, no, whether or not he had freckles, he did NOT want to be Spots. Davyn whined louder, hoping he could get away with that much.
“Mmm. All right. I think Fleet. Fleet’s a good dog name, don’t you think?”
Davyn stayed quiet. There was nothing he could say to that. Heck, there was nothing he could say, period, not without getting zapped.
“That’s a good puppy. And here we are! We’re going to have so much fun, you and me, pup. Fleet. You’re going to be a good Fleet for me, aren’t you?”
What had he gotten himself into? Davyn stayed quiet, and hoped the crazy woman would at least remember to feed him.
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