Free Bad Faith by Aimée and David Thurlo Page B

contented doggy grin.
    Sister Agatha stared at him in shock. What was this animal doing in her room? Where had it come from? Her door was partially open. She always left it like that during the summer to take advantage of the cross-ventilation from the hall window and the one in her cell.
    For several long moments, neither she nor the dog moved. He showed no signs of aggression so finally she went over and searched around his neck for a collar, but there wasn’t one. “You look too well fed and cared for to be a stray, so I know you’ve got an owner, boy,” she said, realizing how clean the dog’s coat was and noting that his nails had been trimmed recently. “Come on. I’ve got to go now, and you’ve got to get out of here.”
    She tried pulling him off the bed, and then cajoling him, but neither worked. The dog lay there, oblivious to her efforts.
    Hearing the sisters going outside for Matins, she realized it was time to get going.
    “One last chance, dog. You either come with me now or spend the next few hours cooped up in this stuffy room.”
    The dog stood, climbed off the bed, and joined her at the door.
    “That’s much better.” The dog followed her, and she left him in the enclosed patio area just outside the kitchen doors before hurrying to join the other nuns for Matins.
    After Lauds, Sister Agatha hurried back to check on the dog, but some of the other sisters had already discovered him. Sister Clothilde was petting the animal and scratching it behind the ears. Sister Ignatius was feeding it some of the nuns’ oatmeal, and Sister Gertrude was trying to brush it.
    No one said anything, unwilling to break the Great Silence that would stretch out until after Morning Prayer, but it was clear they were happy to find the dog, and the animal certainly loved the attention he was getting.
    Sister Bernarda took one look at the animal, then soundlessly mouthed a message to Sister Agatha. “We’ve got to talk later.”
    Leaving the dog on the patio with a large bowl of water, they went into the refectory for breakfast, eating in silence while Sister Mary Lazarus read from the Bible. The table at the front of the room was reserved for Reverend Mother, who never seemed to look up or become distracted during meals. On the front wall, directly to Sister Agatha’s right, was a large cross, and beneath it was a table that held a human skull—a reminder that mortal life, with its joys and sorrows, was fleeting.
    As always, Sister Agatha did her best to avoid looking at the skull. It made her uncomfortable, but over the years, her wry humor had helped her accept the monastic custom. These days when she looked at it, she always had to fight the temptation to offer the thing a spoonful of their stick-to-your-ribs oatmeal.
    After Morning Prayers, Sister Agatha paid the friendly animal a visit. The dog was so sweet natured she was really tempted to take him to the parlor with her. Unfortunately, she was pretty sure what Reverend Mother’s ruling on
that
request would be.
    As she crouched before him, petting and talking to him, Sister Bernarda appeared. “We used to have service dogs like that in the Marine Corps,” she said, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. “Does he know any commands?”
    “Like what?”
    “Sit!”
    Sister Agatha sat on the ground and noticed the dog had done the same.
    “Your Charity, I was talking to the dog,” Sister Bernarda said with a tiny smile. “But I guess both of you know the command.”
    Sister Agatha laughed. “It’s your tone. A tree would march for you.”
    Sister Bernarda went through several more commands, then stopped and praised the dog. “You’ve been trained well.” She also automatically checked for dog license tags but, finding none, suggested they call the newspaper, the animal shelters, and the local veterinarians.
    Sister Bernarda then went to the scriptorium to work while Sister Agatha took her duty post as portress and made the calls. The monastery had only