A new friend
Look. I know that I've been pissy in general since the accident. I know that fucked-up things happen to good people. But god damn it, this is getting ridiculous. Why the hell should I have to take precautions? I'm not dangerous. I'm not researching anything dangerous. I just push atoms around.
Mentally, I set aside a quarter for each curse word.
I know I'm not good with change. I get in a rut and I like it. In fact, I make a nice wallow and stay put. It's one thing to venture outside the wallow from time to time, when I want to. It's another altogether to be forced from my wallow with the thought of vague, carefully-undefined threats. I page through the files of baddies more slowly and come to some unwanted conclusions.
I try to go back to my textbook, but I'm too grumpy. Finally I slap the cover shut and go to bed.
The next morning, I feel like I've had enough pity party and call the number on the card that Mr Fury left as I'm frying pork belly for breakfast. The smoky indulgence is kind of the parting gift from my self-indulgence. About twenty minutes later, there's a knock on the door. I open the door to see Mr Fury and Thor. Thor smiles at me and whistles; a dog squeezes out of the window of their car and bounds up.
"Motherfucker," I say in alarm and step back. Another quarter for the swear.
Mr Fury laughs. "This is Sigurd," Thor says, introducing me. "His name means victory and guardian, and this is why he is here. He is from Asgard and will protect you against all threats."
Sigurd sits down on his ample butt and swishes his ginormous tail. Seriously, this dog-appearing creature is freaking massive. His head comes mid-chest on me. He is well-muscled and with a dark thick bluish gray coat and very dark, expressive gray eyes, very striking. I haven't had pets, but I fancy myself more of a cat person.
"Nice doggy," I say, tentatively extending my hand. His cold wet nose nudges my palm, inviting me to pet. Which I do. His fur is a lot softer than I thought it would be. Thor laughs again and thumps my shoulder, staggering me a bit. Sigurd grasps his wrist in his immense jaws and growls/gurgles a mild warning.
"See?" Thor says. "He will keep you from harm." Sigurd keeps his wrist between his teeth.
"Um...you can let go now," I suggest to the dog, and Sigurd promptly releases Thor.
"Here," Thor says, handing me a leash and a harness. "He doesn't like the leash tugging at his neck." The leash and harness are a zippy red that contrasts beautifully with his fur.
"We're setting up a meeting tomorrow to plan your integration into the team," Mr Fury says in the most laid-back way possible. "Bring him with you," he suggests.
"Bring him everywhere," Thor cautions me. "He cannot protect you if he is not with you."
"I'll text you the details," Fury says, and they leave.
I invite Sigurd inside and lock the door behind us. "I've never had a dog before," I tell him since it's evident he understands English. He woofs once and pads into the kitchen, where he sits down solidly. "OK, so perhaps we need to get you something to eat." He woofs again, and squeezes into the backseat of the Mercedes. Maybe I should have gotten another SUV.
At Petsmart, I hook the leash onto his harness in the parking lot, and we go inside. We stand there, me looking stupid, until a staff member rescues me, leading us to the dog section. We get a cart first. First is a big bag of food. Looking at my new companion, I put a second bag in, just because I don't want to be running to the store every few days for more food. Then bowls--big stainless steel bowls for food and water. Some grooming implements and a gizmo to cut his claws when they get too long.
"Is that a Tibetan Mastiff?" the kid helping me asks. I nod. Might as well, I certainly can't explain where I really got him, and maybe there's some of that genetic material in him anyway. "He's gorgeous." I swear Sigurd preened. He certainly struck a delightful pose. There was a vast pet bed, an eye-opening stockpile of toys and treats, and I was advised in the strongest possible manner to keep my dog active as Tibetan mastiffs are very smart, very strong-willed, and very destructive to wood. I look at Sigurd sideways. There's a lot of wood in the sublet. We have to get a second cart for all the dog stuff. The very last thing we add are little rolls of plastic bags for waste capture on our walks. All of a sudden I'm really grateful for the size of the settlement from Stark Tech. There is barely room in the car for all Sigurd's stuff and Sigurd.
I spend the next couple of hours setting things up to his satisfaction. He eats, he drinks, we go for a walk, I pick up poop. Back home, he disappears and when I go looking for him later, I find him sprawled out on the king size bed. His own bed, the one he loved in the store, is right there. "Naughty dog," I said unenthusiastically. One eye cracks open, then snaps shut as he sees me looking at him.
By the end of the day, I am exhausted from keeping up with Sigurd. I've never been so thrilled to go to a meeting as I am to get to the one with Nick Fury. We're even early.