the very social and active Brewer be devastated at being locked up at home, I’d miss having the dog by my side day in and day out. I’d gotten used to his company and wasn't sure what I’d do without him as my constant shadow.
Brewer continued to ignore me, so I went to the couch to grab him by the collar. As I began to pull him away, the dog shocked me when he turned his head and closed his teeth over my hand. He didn't press hard enough to actually bite; it was more of a gentle hold. The large animal gave me a tug and then released my hand. When I didn't move, Brewer did the same thing again. He whined deep in his throat and then seconds later started howling again. I stepped forward to grab him once more, this time determined to pull him away, when I tripped over the bag next to the couch. I was about to push the offending thing out of my path with my foot when my eyes caught on an all-too-familiar item lying on the floor.
Brewer continued to whine and howl as I bent down to open the little bag. My stomach dropped out at the sight of its contents. I snapped my eyes up to the man lying on the couch and then let out a harsh curse. This time when I moved Brewer so I could get closer to the man, the dog quickly got out of my way. I sat down on the edge of the couch and stripped the blankets down to the man's waist. I dropped my hand to his forehead to confirm that the little glistening spots I'd seen on his skin were, in fact, sweat. There was absolutely no reason for him to be sweating when the cabin was as cold as it was. Even with as many blankets as he had on him, it wouldn't have kept him so warm that he’d be perspiring.
But there was one thing that would be causing him to sweat. "Sir," I said quickly as I shook him hard to get his attention. At the same time, I reached down to swipe the bag off the floor and began rifling through it. When I found what I was looking for, I quickly grabbed for his hand. It took just seconds to prick his finger and collect the tiny amount of blood I needed to figure out what his blood sugar was. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest. When I saw the number on the glucose meter, I tossed the supplies aside and stumbled to my feet. I hurried to the kitchen, praying as I went. I hadn't talked to the man upstairs in many years, but I found myself inadvertently bargaining with him.
Which made no sense since I hated the bastard for everything he’d done to me, for what he’d taken from me.
I ripped the refrigerator open and felt a measure of relief go through me when I saw a container of orange juice. I snatched it from the door and ripped the cap off as I made my way to the cabinets. I grabbed a glass and sloshed some of the orange juice into it before rushing back to the living room. Brewer was still standing watch over the man. His tail thumped wildly when he saw me. I'd have plenty of time to reward the dog for both his keen sense and his stubbornness.
I sat back down on the side of the couch and reached down to put my arms beneath the man. Not surprisingly, he fought me when I forced him to sit up.
"Le’ me lone," he choked out.
I knew better than to give in to his request. "I need you to drink this," I said forcefully as I put the glass to his lips. The man tried to resist, but I tipped his head back and as soon as he opened his mouth to protest, I forced some juice into it. He choked a little, but thankfully his instincts kicked in and he swallowed. I gave him just enough to keep him from gagging and then waited. The man muttered something incoherently at me, but when I lifted the glass to his lips again, he didn't fight me as much.
"That's it," I said encouragingly as I continued to get the juice into him. It took a good ten minutes to get him to drink all of