Free Sleeps with Dogs by Lindsey Grant

crated in the back corner of the kitchen when he left.
    In response to my voice, Ash, the new puppy of the house, came charging into the living room. He slid into my feet, Risky Business –style, setting off another flurry of feathers.
    â€œWhat are you doing in here?” I reached down and rubbed his tummy. Ash was supposed to be sequestered in the backyard, not loose inside the house.
    Ash and Maddie were cousins. Or half siblings. Or just siblings. Though Maddie was full-grown and Ash just a pup, both were descended from the wolf mother and German shepherd father who lived in a chain-link partition behind the house across the street, along with an ever-changing assortment of their offspring.
    Ash was all white, like his dad. Maddie took more after her mother, the wolf unmistakable in her face and frame and coloring. The wolf mother had a permanent sneer from an old bullet wound—whether it was inflicted there in Oakland or before she was domesticated, I didn’t know. It gave her a sinister look, in contrast to Maddie’s sweet face and gentle, intelligent eyes.
    For all of her good-natured playfulness and irresistible lovability, Maddie was not an easy charge by any stretch. The wolf in her introduced all kinds of complications not faced by most other dogs. At least not in such an extreme combination of characteristics. As was common in wolf dogs, she was way too smart for her own good, strong as an ox, and a superior escape artist. She also had a highly sensitive stomach. Her digestive issues were not necessarily endemic to this hybrid but were further compounded by the specific and often divergent dietary needs of a half-wolf, half-canine. All of these challenges were intensified by the recent introduction of Ash, also a wolf dog, into the household.
    â€œAll right mess-maker, did you get into a pillow fight?”
    Ash padded behind me into the kitchen, the feather storm making us both sneeze. I could only assume that he got ahold of a bolster or a blanket while he was on the loose that morning, and then did what any self-respecting wolf pup might: destroy. Whatever it was he got into, the feather-fall grew thicker the farther into the kitchen we ventured.
    In a small dining nook off the back of the kitchen, Maddie was indeed crated. She looked like a canine version of the AbominableSnowman, her mottled dove-gray and cream coat further lightened by a head-to-toe dusting of fine white down. Looking adorably innocent, Maddie dipped her head again to tear at the remains of what was, until recently, a mattress pad or comforter.
    â€œOh, you’re the mess-maker!” She nuzzled at my fingers through the bars of her crate, licking them with a feather-flecked tongue.
    â€œDid your silly mama give you a feather bed? Those don’t really mix too well with wolves, huh?”
    I was quickly trying to calculate the next best step in this mess. Every time Ash moved, he sent another plume of feathers floating even farther afield. I could put him back in the yard and leave Maddie crated while I cleaned up, but I really needed Maddie out of her crate and out of the way so I could bag the remains of the cushion. She and Ash weren’t really supposed to be outside together unsupervised, though.
    â€œAll right, kiddos,” I said, resolved to leave the cleaning until later. I unlatched the door of Maddie’s crate, and she tore down the hall to the flight of stairs that led to the bottom floor and backyard. I knew proper procedure would have been for me to make them both sit and stay at the top of the stairs and wait there for me to give them permission to proceed. Sometimes you have to pick your battles.
    At the base of the stairs that led to the backyard was Trevor’s room. His door was always shut, leaving the small landing in gloom. Today, however, the door was wide open, and I thought for a moment that Trevor was perhaps home after all.
    â€œHello?” I ventured, suddenly feeling