Lucy

by Chris Coppel

  “Hello girl!” her Man said from his mystery location. “Sorry I’m not there to give you a big hug. Don’t be sad Lucy. I’ll be home before you know it.” Lucy felt her legs go weak at the sound of his voice. She let out a small whimper, wanting so much to see, and feel him, to play Shoe again, to—what was the point? He wasn’t anywhere close. She knew that. She listened to his voice and at least could tell that he seemed well, and in fact, quite happy.

  Cook finally raised the black thing back to her ear, and after a few brief words, put the thing back into its holder on the desk.

  “Well, I hope you’re feeling a wee bit better now that you’ve had a chat with him.”

  Lucy looked up at her and sighed deeply. She felt very empty and suddenly, slightly hungry. Not just slightly—very hungry!

  She realised, much to her amazement, that she couldn’t remember her last meal.

  Cook stroked her head, and asked, “Would you like a wee spot of dins?”

  Dins! Cook’s pseudonym for food. What timing! Lucy leapt to her feet and wagged her tail rapidly, in a clear display of agreement.

  “Well, well. Look who’s back with the living then!” she exclaimed.

  Lucy was so excited that she bounded towards the kitchen, leaping two dog lengths at a time. She’d not only heard her Man’s voice but was about to get some well-deserved dins as well. What a great day.

  The days passed slowly by, as Lucy watched summer slip quietly away and morph into the season when the leaves fell to the ground, and the temperature changed from hot to only lukewarm. The sun lost some its fiery ferocity and no longer reached its zenith directly overhead. She thought of her Man every day, but began to realise that, though she was able to frequently hear his voice on the black thing, he was obviously never coming back.

  On one particularly dreary day, Lucy had a light lunch then moved out to the garden to have a nap. She found a spot that was free from falling leaves (exceedingly difficult at that time of year) and shut her eyes, listening to Cook’s Welsh lilt as she sang away in the kitchen.

  Lucy was dreaming of Burden Dell when her nose twitched her awake. She could clearly smell meat. Fresh, raw meat! She opened her eyes and urgently looked about her. She spotted, much to her amazement, two humans leaning over the front garden wall. One was holding a very tempting steak in his hand and was waving it gently from side to side. Behind the men was a grey vehicle similar to her Man’s, but longer and windowless. She had noticed it on their street for the past few days but thought nothing of it. The men were unusually attired by Lucy’s way of thinking, and though only able to see their top halves over the wall, they seemed somehow rougher than the humans she was used to. Seeing that Lucy was now awake, the men began to coax her over to partake of their meaty offering. She couldn’t imagine what they could possibly have to gain, but that steak did look good!

  “Oh, why not,” Lucy decided as she trotted toward them. When she was within a few dog lengths from the wall, the man tossed the steak onto the lawn next to her. She looked over at them to ensure that there was no misunderstanding, then seeing their eager gesturing, lowered herself to the tasty task at hand. She began chewing with delight, for it was, as suspected, a delicious piece of meat. As she ate, the two men watched her intently. Lucy found this slightly disconcerting, but if that was their only condition for sharing then…

  Lucy suddenly felt dizzy. Just for a second, then it cleared. Strange! She lowered her head for another bite, then felt it again. She also felt very sleepy. She decided that maybe a sip of water would help. She tried to get to her feet but couldn’t. It was as if her legs could no longer lift her. She then felt most peculiar. Her vision became blurred and distorted. On top of that, she felt a little queasy.

  “Oh my,” she thought.

  She felt herself spinning. She tried closing her eyes but that only made things worse. She looked over at the two men hoping that maybe they could help, and indeed saw that they were climbing over the fence. She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer and was now feeling very warm. She felt hands on her, and realised the men were lifting her. Thank goodness. They would take these nasty feelings away. She was being raised into the air. She managed to open one eye and saw the cottage swimming in a grey haze. Cook was running out the front door screaming at her. Why? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Lucy’s eyes closed, and as she sensed herself being carried over the wall, she heard Cook’s voice reaching higher and higher pitches. Lucy sensed all light suddenly vanish, then heard the sound like her Man’s vehicle just before it moved. She could still hear Cook’s voice only now it was far away. Very, very far away. Lucy began to dream of Burden Dell again, only now instead of being surrounded by deer and other animal friends, there was no one there but herself, and she began to feel afraid and very alone. She wanted badly to wake from this dream, but she couldn’t. It went on and on. Lucy began to cry in her dream, and although unaware of it, in real life as well, as she lay in the back of the grey van as it sped out of West Sussex on its way to London.

  CHAPTER 5

  Lucy did not want to open her eyes. She was painfully tired, and still felt the after-effects of the terrible dream she’d had. She just wanted to keep her eyes closed a little while longer. She adjusted her position and realised how hard and cold the floor felt. She must have rolled off her rug during the night. Yes, that must be it. Her other senses began relaying very discomforting signals to her foggy, and slightly achy head. The smells were not right. There was no scent of fresh food being prepared, or of polished woods or . . . . there were no smells of home at all, only smells of dirt, and stone and other odours that Lucy simply refused to acknowledge. The sounds weren’t right either. She could hear a steady rumbling all about her, almost like the noise vehicles made on the village high street only a hundred times stronger. She could also hear other dogs, only they didn’t sound like any she’d ever encountered. These voices all sounded pained and forlorn. Some were singing songs of misery, others of imprisonment and ill treatment. Then there were those who were simply crying. Not about anything in particular, just crying openly and with total abandon. Could she still be dreaming? Lucy hoped against hope that that was indeed the case, as she slowly opened her eyes.

  Her mind had trouble accepting what her eyes were seeing. She definitely wasn’t at home. She was in an old and very worn brick enclosure, not much wider than herself, and around twice as long. The floor was not stone as she had earlier thought, but a smooth, hard, stone-like substance, which sloped gently to one corner where a small hole was located. Lucy had no idea what it was for, but even from where she lay, she could distinctly smell the vilest of odours emanating from it. The walls that surrounded her on three sides were stained, scarred and so covered with green mildew that were it not for some recent dings and chips, she would never have known them to have been brick at all. The fourth side of the enclosure was made up of a heavy, and very rusted wire mesh gate. A metal latch kept the mesh barrier from opening. Lucy could see across a narrow, dark passageway that there was an identical enclosure across from hers. Lucy tried to focus her eyes to see if it was occupied but found it to be empty.

  With great difficulty, Lucy got to her feet. Her legs felt more like bendy flower stems than the firm bones and muscle that she was used to. She shook her head and tried to clear the cobwebs that still lingered. She moved stiffly to the front of the enclosure and by resting her head on the rusty fencing, was able to look down the passageway. She was shocked at what she saw. It seemed to go on forever, one enclosure after another. She could only see one side of the passageway clearly, but she knew that the other side would be the same. She swivelled around and looked down the other way and was greeted by the same vision. Some of the enclosures were clearly occupied as their canine occupants leaned against or stood at their locked gate. Some were barking, others crying, while still others simply stood there with blank, almost helpless expressions on their faces.

&
nbsp; Lucy backed away from the gate and used all her willpower to not burst into tears. She was frightened yes, and hungry too, but she knew that she mustn’t cry in this place. She didn’t know why, just that she had to keep her emotions in check until she found out what was going on. She was obviously not meant to be here. There had been some silly mistake which would most certainly be discovered very shortly, at which point, she would be returned post-haste to her cottage, Cook, and hopefully, breakfast.

  She distinctly felt a sudden tension run the length of the passageway, then heard a door opening. She moved to the gate, and saw that almost every enclosure or cell, as she was beginning to think of them, was occupied. There must have been close to a hundred dogs in the place, all of which began to howl, and bark, and some even threw themselves at the wire mesh.

  At first, Lucy didn’t understand what was going on. After some deep concentration she began to pick up a word here and a word there. The mix of breeds, plus their diverse accents, made them difficult to understand, but she soon realised that this was feeding time. Thank goodness. Maybe after a nice breakfast, Lucy could better focus on what to do about her situation. She wondered if there would be any fresh bread, though even the wet and dry mix would go down quite well this morning.

  She continued to look down the passageway and could hear a strange high-pitched squeaking that almost hurt her ears. She continued looking and finally saw the source of the din. A fat and very shabbily dressed man was pushing a cart of some sort along the passageway. The intrusive noise seemed to be coming from one of the vehicle’s wheels. As Lucy watched, she saw the man open one cell after another and toss a dented metal bowl into each one. She found it odd that as he reached each cell and opened the gate, the occupant backed far inside, not even attempting to offer their benefactor even the most perfunctory of good mornings.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the man reached Lucy’s cell and opened the gate. Lucy stepped forward to introduce herself and was about to raise a paw, when the man, without any warning whatsoever, raised what to Lucy looked like a long cylindrical piece of wood. He brought it down with amazing speed and force, hitting her savagely on her rump. Her back legs gave out and she collapsed to the cold floor. She looked up at the man with true pain in her eyes, as well as complete bewilderment. She’d never been hurt like that before. This was not like Cook and the rolled-up paper bits. This was different. This man had clearly intended to cause her pain; but why? She didn’t recall ever having seen him before, and certainly didn’t remember having done him wrong in any way. As she looked up at him, he glared down at her, then raised the piece of wood. He didn’t swing it. He just held it up as a warning. Lucy slid her sore backside away from the gate and moved as far back into the cell as possible. The man lowered the wood thing, then, with a sneer, tossed a metal bowl onto the floor. He slammed the gate shut and moved on to the next cell. Lucy tried to stand but found it too painful. Her eyes were brimming over with tears, but she still managed to hold them back, bravely determined to not show any emotion.

  She moved herself carefully across the cell towards the bowl. She knew she had better eat something, if only to keep up her strength. She approached the food and saw immediately that this was most certainly not her usual dry and wet mix. In fact, it was like no food that she had ever seen. It was light grey! The only parts that weren’t that shade were the areas where it had started to congeal and harden. Those were dark grey. And the smell! There was nothing meaty anywhere to be found in its scent. It smelled of metal and . . . and mould. Lucy had never smelled anything quite like it, especially something that was intended for her consumption. She took a small bite, hoping that it would at least taste of something recognisable. It did not. In fact, it tasted of surprisingly little, which after the smell was a bonus.

  Lucy realised that she wasn’t that hungry anymore. Her backside was throbbing, and the look of breakfast had somehow diminished what appetite remained after the unexpected beating. She was, however, very thirsty, and suddenly noticed that she had no water bowl. She thought about approaching the gate and advising Fat Man as to the missing water, then decided to leave him be. He might, after all, still be angry with her for whatever had set him off in the first place.

  Lucy lowered her head to her front paws and tried to recall the events leading up to this - her unjust and totally unforeseen imprisonment.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud, “Psst!” She looked to the gate and saw, much to her amazement, a small Yorkshire Terrier standing in the passageway, anxiously checking both directions.

  “Psst!” the tiny animal repeated.

  “Are you pssting me?” Lucy asked in amazement.

  “Shh! Don’t say a word.” The dog had a strong but pleasant Yorkshire accent. “I’ve only got a second. I heard you got the bat earlier. Don’t get near the gate when they open it. Got that?”

  “Well I . . .” Lucy began.

  “Quiet. I told you not to speak! Just move to the back of the cage when they open it. I’ll tell you more in the courtyard later. Oh, by the way, you’d better eat that slop. I know it’s vile but it’s all you’ll get all day.” The terrier scanned the passageway nervously. “I’ll fill you in later.” He then vanished out of sight.

  “But who are you?” Lucy called out.

  The small dog instantly reappeared. “Rodney, and for the sake of us all . . . shh!” And again, he was gone.

  Perplexed and yet, somehow relieved to know that there were some friendly breeds incarcerated with her, she lowered her head again to the ground, and much to her amazement, fell asleep.

  She dreamt of Cook and of a huge loaf of fresh bread that was just out of her reach. As she turned to Cook and asked in her best, and most well-mannered way, if it had cooled sufficiently for a piece to be given to her, Cook’s face took on a distorted and vicious leer. She removed her hands from behind her back, and in one hand was holding a dented metal bowl filled with grey food, and in the other hand, a long piece of wood. Lucy woke up with a start only to find her gate, wide open. She only had the briefest instant to ponder this before Fat Man appeared and stepped right into her cell. He stepped around her, and to the back of the enclosure. He raised the ‘club’ and began shouting unintelligibly at her. She had no idea what he wanted. She suddenly realised that perhaps she had offended him by not eating her food. She rose painfully to her feet and took a step towards the bowl. The man yelled even louder and raised the piece of wood still higher.

  “Get out!” snapped a powerful-looking Boxer dog who was standing in the passageway.

  Lucy hesitated.

  “Now!” the dog barked.

  Lucy looked up at the man, and while involuntarily cringing, she obeyed the Boxer’s orders. The moment she moved towards the gate; the club was indeed lowered. She stepped into the passageway and saw that all the cells were open and that their occupants were all heading to the far end of the hallway, towards an open door.

  Lucy tried to ask a few of her fellow prisoners what was going on but was told to shut up on each attempt. So, still unenlightened, she followed the group as it neared the exit. For one brief moment, she thought that it was the end of the nightmare, and that the door would in fact lead back to her cottage and gardens. As she neared it however, she immediately saw that nightmare was nowhere near ending. The doorway led to a dark, dreary, stone courtyard. As Lucy stepped into the cold, damp air, she saw that the square concrete yard was flanked on all four sides by very high, and incredibly old, brick walls. To ensure that no beast could escape over them, strands of vicious-looking barbed wire had been coiled atop all four ensuring that no animal would be stupid enough to try and escape. It dawned on Lucy that she had been spot on in thinking of her enclosure as a cell. The more she saw, the more she realised that she truly was imprisoned.

  As she stepped into the yard, she noticed how the dogs immediately seemed to form into groups and began talking in whisp
ers amongst themselves. There were a few loners such as herself, but they appeared either very sullen, or as in the case of one, incredibly sad and pathetic-looking Spaniel, completely deranged with despondency.

  Lucy approached the spaniel, hoping to console the miserable creature, but with each attempt at getting a word in between the breed’s violent sobbing, she would scream even louder, and wail with unrelenting determination. Lucy soon gave up, and with a gentle nod, backed away from the pitiful creature.

  She slowly walked around the perimeter of the yard, feeling very self-conscious and out of place. As she passed each new group of dogs, she felt their eyes on her as they evaluated the new prisoner.

  Suddenly, she saw Rodney holding court before a group of much larger breeds, all of whom appeared to be hanging on his every word. Lucy stepped into the group and smiled over at the small terrier. Rodney stopped talking. The others all turned and glared menacingly towards her.

  “Hello,” Lucy stuttered. “Sorry to intrude, I thought I’d just introduce myself. I’m . . . ”

  The group instantly disbanded, leaving Lucy with her mouth wide open as she looked down at Rodney.

  “Lesson number two,” Rodney said in a patient, and calm voice.” In this place, never step into a group uninvited, especially until the dogs get to know you.”

  “But why?” Lucy began.

  “Just listen for now,” Rodney said, interrupting her. “We don’t have long outside. You probably haven’t the vaguest idea where you are, have you?”

  Lucy shook her head in acknowledgment.

  “That’s usually the case,” Rodney said. “You were, to put it in simple terms, dog napped!”