The Dog That Saved Stewart Coolidge Read Online Free

watched, just out of the corner of his eye. He also did not want to alert the proper authorities, at least not yet.
    The next time Stewart looked over, the dog had disappeared.
    Must have been a customer’s dog.
    But he also heard a commotion—a sort of small commotion in aisle five.
    That’s the pet food aisle.
    Stewart grabbed his phone from his pocket and switched it to camera mode. He held it up, and from around the corner came the black-and-white dog, holding a large rawhide chew in its mouth, trotting, as casual as could be, through an open gap offered by an empty register, which had been secured with a small chain, hung at waist level, holding a sign that read CLOSED .
    Stewart snapped three pictures.
    Then he heard the clumping of a large man rapidly and clumsily descending a flight of stairs. Mr. Arden’s office was above the pharmacy department on the second floor, just by the employee break room.
    Mr. Arden wheeled out into the store, trying to force his right arm into the sleeve of his manager’s jacket, shouting and sputtering at the same time, “Get that dog! Get that dog!”
    He spun around the corner, almost colliding with an endcap display of Vernors ginger ale, waving his hands.
    “You! Stewart. He’s back. That dog. Get the dog!”
    Stewart snapped a picture of Mr. Arden in full stride, white coat flapping behind him, his face nearly scarlet with anger and exertion. Then Stewart took off as well, running toward the door, a good fifteen steps behind the dog.
    Whatever level of intelligence this dog possessed, Stewart thought he had a superb sense of timing. He made it to the exit doors at exactly the same time Mr. Rinners did, hardly breaking stride at all, and heading west down Main Street. Once outside, Stewart took off at a gallop.
    He was nearly positive that Mr. Arden would not follow, nor leave the store unmanaged, even for a few minutes. Stewart saw the dog loping down Main Street.
    And a curious thing occurred. The dog stopped, dropped the rawhide, and turned to stare at Stewart.
    Stewart, not well versed in the ways of dogs, slowed as well.
    “Good boy. It’s okay, doggy. I won’t hurt you. It’s just that Mr. Arden wants that bone back. You didn’t pay for it.”
    Then Stewart snapped another picture of the dog, full in frame and smiling.
    That is a good-looking animal. Handsome for a dog. And he seems as if he knows it. Sort of posing, isn’t he?
    The dog tilted his head to the side, appearing to be memorizing Stewart’s face. Then he bent down, took the bone in his mouth, and took off like a furry rocket on steroids.
    Stewart plodded on a few more steps and realized that giving chase would be futile.
    I ran track in high school, but even back then I wouldn’t have been able to keep up.
    The dog ran down to Walnut Street, then headed south.
    As Stewart walked back to the Tops Market, he passed the Wired Rooster Coffee Shop. He looked inside. Lisa was behind the counter, offering a broad smile to a customer while handing him a cup of coffee.
    Stewart took a deep breath and entered the store.
    “Hi, Lisa.”
    “Stewart. What are you doing here? On a break?”
    He leaned toward the counter and whispered.
    “The dog came back. I have pictures. We can talk after work.”
    Lisa’s smile beamed at a mega-kilowatt level.
    “What time do you get off? Early, I hope.”
    “I’ll be home at two thirty.”
    “I’ll be up at three. And I’ll bring coffee. You like lattes?”
    Stewart did.
    “Sure. I’ll see you at three.”
    Today is going to be a good day.

    The dog ran three more blocks, then veered west. He slowed to a trot, hardly breathing fast, but a running dog drew suspicion and this dog did not want to draw more attention to himself than he already had.
    The weather had grown warmer, and for that the animal was glad. God indeed designed most animals to live outside, and the dog had a good coat of fur, but during the cold winter nights, well, no animal is truly and totally