Lucy

by Chris Coppel

  “How about you, Miss?” Rodney asked, in a somewhat louder voice.

  “Hmm?” She sighed back at him.

  “Never mind,” Rodney mumbled, as he turned back to face Lucy again.

  “You must have been daydreaming or something. We turned a corner, and then lucky for you, Angel here noticed you’d strayed off.”

  Lucy looked to Angel and gave her a nod of thanks.

  “Well, if that little scare is done with, can we keep going?” Rodney snapped.

  “Sorry,” Lucy offered shyly.

  Rodney was clearly embarrassed by her apology. He stretched his tiny frame before forming the group back into a single line and marching them away from the river’s edge towards Central London.

  CHAPTER 10

  They marched on for hours until they eventually came to a road that seemed to span the entire river. Angel recognised the oddity to be the Westminster Bridge. On the other side of the water was a spectacular structure larger than anything Lucy recalled ever having seen. The entire building appeared to be made of gold, and on one end was a very tall tower with huge circles cut into it. On these, there were long pointed arrow like things. As Lucy watched, one of the arrow things moved, and pointed straight upward. The air was suddenly filled with the sound of bells, followed by a louder, and far deeper-toned gong that rang four times.

  “That’s Big . . .?” Angel began. “Big . . . Bill. No! Bob, Burt . . . oh dash it! It’s Big somebody or other.”

  “Well, I’ll grant you,” said the Rottweiler. “it is big!”

  They all nodded in agreement as they looked across the Thames to Big Burt, or Bill, or whoever.

  They moved on, and still in single file, crossed the bridge. They tried to ignore the pointing and laughing from the many humans who were either walking by, or sitting in their noisy, smelly vehicles.

  Halfway across, Rodney stopped and looked back from where they had come. He seemed pleased with their progress. Even the Afghan had kept up.

  During the long morning’s march, Lucy had struck up a conversation with her and learned that her name was Prunella, or Pru, as she preferred to be called.

  Pru was, it turned out, a city dog. She had been on a two-week holiday with her mistress when she had been dognapped. She was surprisingly bright if one could get her to talk about something other than herself. She was four years old, a show champion many times over, and a devoted fan of the ‘telly’, as she called it. That was that odd contraption that Lucy’s Man also occasionally sat in front of and stared into. A large, thin box, which put out a bright light on which images danced and moved, almost like real life. Pru told of how she would sit with her Woman and stare at the thing, sometimes for days on end. She would become quite entranced with the screen and find herself unable to break away from it. Her Woman would, on occasion, do the same, only according to Pru, would also use the opportunity to consume amazing amounts of salty, little snack things. She would then take in a lot of liquid, then follow that with a lot of sweet foods.

  During the weekdays, Pru would be left alone in the home she shared with her Woman. On the weekends however, she would be powdered and brushed, and the two of them would get into their vehicle and seek out the next beauty show. Pru had been doing this for so long that she was surprised when Lucy explained that she had not only never been to such a had never even heard of such a thing.

  Lucy had, at one point, asked Pru what she would do when she was too old to compete in the shows, and was amazed at the look of bewilderment that appeared on her face. This eventuality had clearly never been considered. Pru became noticeably quiet after that, and at one point, Lucy was certain Pru was actually crying, but thought it best not to mention it.

  Rodney got the group in motion again, but after a couple of steps, froze in place. At first the others weren’t sure why, then they spotted what he had seen. Walking towards them were Fat Man and Champ. Rodney turned the other way and immediately spotted Skull Face and Squat Lady, also making their way along the bridge.

  Rodney’s reaction was astounding. He seemed to act by pure instinct and without any thought whatsoever.

  “Follow me,” he yelled, and then dashed into the line of vehicles that had thankfully slowed for a group of bipeds who were on foot further along the bridge.

  The seven of them weaved between the smelly things, causing raised voices and angry horns. They crossed the centre of the road, and if the second Doberman hadn’t stopped Pru from moving any further, a speeding van that tore by them in the opposite direction, would most certainly have struck her.

  “Thank you,” she said in a startled voice, and gave him a warm smile. Their eyes locked for a brief second, and something magical passed fleetingly between them.

  Rodney gave the all-clear and they dashed the rest of the way across. They glanced back and saw that their pursuers were waiting for a gap in traffic so they too could cross. Rodney led them to a set of old stone steps that dropped down one side of the bridge. They followed him and found themselves on the north bank of the Thames. Lucy was startled by the majesty of the great river and would have liked to have stayed where she was, and truly take in the enormity of what she was seeing. Rodney however, had other ideas.

  “Come on, don’t slow down,” he commanded.

  They followed him under the stone arch of the bridge, then, much to everyone’s surprise, ran them up another set of steps. As they neared the top, Rodney signalled for the others to stay behind him as he poked his nose around the corner of a wall. He gave them an all clear and they trotted up onto the top of the bridge again.

  “Where are they?” Angel asked in amazement.

  “Hopefully, if it worked, they should be . . . ,” he said confidently. “right about . . . there!”

  He gestured for the others to look through the stone pillars that spanned the side of the bridge. Far below, and rushing away from them, were all four of their pursuers. Champ was sniffing urgently along the riverbank, trying to pick up a scent. Suddenly to their utter amazement, the Rottweiler let out a single, but very audible bark. The Boxer stopped and looked right up at them. He was about to alert the bipeds, when Fat Man viciously yanked at his lead, dragging him after them. The Rottweiler apologised profusely for his outburst, explaining that the excitement had simply got the better of him.

  The seven then all broke into a joyous fit of laughter as they sauntered the rest of the way across the bridge.

  Pru came into her own as they reached a busy street that simply had to be crossed. She seemed to understand the odd red light, green light contraption, and knew how one was to use it to gauge when it was safe to cross the road. At first, the other six were highly sceptical of Pru’s knowledge in that area, until, using the odd light system, she crossed the street three times without incident. Finally, the others followed her, and much to their astonishment, made it across unscathed. Rodney was especially pleased, as he’d had to battle the same streets recently without any knowledge of the crossing ‘trick’.

  Food became the next issue as they’d only really toyed with their grey slop that morning. None of them had eaten properly. Rodney, in fact, hadn’t eaten a thing since the previous day.

  The three males told the others to hold on for a moment, and they would remedy this situation. As they huddled and strategized a plan to get some food, Lucy took a moment to relax and reflect on what they had just been through. Despite the harrowing adventure of having to crisscross the streets to avoid capture, Lucy had been able to use the time to learn the names of the other dogs.

  The second Doberman was called Lester, and he was from the picturesque (so he said) village of Denham, not far outside London. He had been grabbed as he’d been strolling down the village high street. His Man knew he had good sense and maturity, so allowed him free reign to walk by himself. He loved to stop outside a wonderful Italian restaurant on the high street, where the owner’s w
hippet was teaching him the Italian language. He’d in fact, just had a lesson and was heading back to his home when the dog-nappers had grabbed him.

  The Rottweiler’s name was Hans. He had never stepped foot in Germany, couldn’t speak a word of the language, in fact he had no contact with anyone or thing Germany, yet his man called him Hans!

  He came from a horse farm, just outside Cambridge, where he apparently had the task of keeping an eye, not only on the bipeds and their home, but also on the horses themselves. According to him, his life was as near perfect as could be. He loved his bipeds, and they him. Yes, the work was hard at times, especially in the winter months, but to watch and help turn stumbling foals into the cream of the horse racing circuits, made it all worthwhile. He told of times when his humans had let him travel with them to a race meet and watch as one of his charges nosed across the finish ahead of the pack, destined to become a champion.

  The lead Doberman was Rex. Unlike the others, he did not regale the group with tales of a contented home life or of special humans left behind. Rex was in fact a guard dog who, at a young age, had been taken from his home, and trained to attack, restrain, and generally distrust any biped, other than those who knew the special command words. His life was spent going from one assignment to another. He usually had to guard dark and terrifying yards where he was made to stand vigil alone, through long lonely nights. He had demonstrated to the others his frightening ability to suddenly bare his teeth in a ferocious snarl, while producing a deep guttural growl that literally caused the hair on Lucy’s back to stand on end.

  When Lucy had asked him where he would go once they were free of the city, he had thought long and hard, then turned to her, and in a voice laden with sadness, told her that he truly had no idea. Seeing the look of concern on Lucy’s face, he had given her a huge smile and told her that she wasn’t to feel sad for him. She and the others all had to go back to the same predictable lives they’d had before. Lucy would have Cook and the cottage, Lester his Italian lessons, Hans his horses, Pru her beauty shows, Angel her constant rivalry with her Labrador housemate; even Rodney, who had surprised them all when he had owned up to having a very swishy, male human whose job it was to cut people’s hair into all sorts of funny shapes. He had even confessed to being forced to sometimes wear bright ribbons on his head, as his man flitted around the heavily perfumed establishment where he worked. Rex explained that while they would all go back to the same lives they had left, Rex would not. He saw his freedom as a second chance. An opportunity to live his life in some, as yet uncertain pursuit that would allow him to finally trust others and permit him to roam free when and where he wished. No, he explained, he was the lucky one.

  With the plan in place, Rex, Hans, and Lester strolled casually down the street and stopped outside a store where slab after slab of every type of meat imaginable, hung behind a large display window. There was meat from cows and sheep, deer and pig. Even some from rabbit, which Hans vowed to not even consider touching. The three paused at the entrance, and as the others watched in fascination, they put their scheme in motion. First they walked the group a few blocks away, where they would be safe.

  The three then dashed back, and led by Rex, charged into the shop. There was yelling, and screaming, and the sound of items being thrown. There was even the sound of one human laughing in a deep baritone of a voice.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to the other dogs, the three reappeared with their booty. Rex, still leading the group, had an entire leg of lamb in his mouth. He was closely followed by Hans who had, what appeared to be, a standing rib roast clenched in his jaw. Lester, bringing up the rear, was indeed a sight. He had grabbed a string of delicious looking sausages and was clearly unaware that he was trailing a substantial length of links behind him. Hans told how, as they came barrelling out the shop door, a large and terribly upset man in a bloody apron, chased after them with a very sharp looking cleaver held high over his head. A pair of elderly human females began to scream at the sight of him. This din attracted the attention of a patrolling policeman who, thinking the elderly matrons to be in some dire peril, tackled the butcher to the ground. Through almost crippled by fits of adrenaline-spurned laughter, the three dogs all dashed round the nearest corner, and kept right on going as the trail of sausage links whipped on after them.

  Rodney led them to a small, enclosed garden, which Angel explained was called a square. Here they concealed themselves under some heavy shrubbery and tucked into their fine feast.

  As they ate, Pru told them of a huge park with a giant pond in its centre, that was less than a day’s walk from where they were currently situated. Rodney felt he had a good idea where it was, and they all voted to try to find it the next morning. According to Pru, it was large enough for them to stay in, undetected, while they came up with a more formal plan.

  After dinner, Angel tried to get each animal to in turn, tell a bedtime story, but everyone else seemed too sleepy. As she began to tell one of her own, she too was overtaken by sleep before her story was even finished. It was the first night spent in the open air for many of the group, but any anxiety they might have felt was soon dispelled by the realization that they were free from their captors and among friends.

  CHAPTER 11

  Lucy woke before the others when a small, but surprisingly inquisitive, grey squirrel began making angry noises in her direction. She opened one eye and saw that the little creature was only inches away from her nose as it glared at her, while chattering away in what was clearly a display of pique. Lucy lifted her head and cocked it to one side so the squirrel would know that she wasn’t at all clear as to the reasons for the reprimand. Once her muzzle was off the ground, the squirrel darted under Lucy’s chin and began digging in the soft dark earth. Within moments, it had uncovered a small cache of acorns, which it gathered in its cheeks. Once loaded, the squirrel gave Lucy one last, livid glance before dashing out of the shelter afforded by the bushes, to seek out a new and safer hiding place, far from sleeping dogs.

  Lucy sat where she was for a moment, listening to the morning sounds of the big city. Some were familiar like the bird song and the slight breeze as it rustled the leaves overhead. For the most part however, the aural sensations were quite different. In the country, there were spaces in between sounds when, even with Lucy’s keen ears, there was nothing to be heard. At those moments, when wind hesitated, birds sat silent, cows pondered and even the humans put down their tools, Lucy could recall the memory of the total peace that seemed to blanket the world.

  Not so in the city, where there was a steady rumble that Lucy knew to be an omnipresent backdrop of sound. There could never be true peace as long as so many people lived so close together, doing noisy things. She thought how sad that must be to live amidst such a din. Upon hearing Pru stirring close to her, Lucy looked over and watched as the Afghan raised her head and listened.

  “What a beautiful morning,” Pru said joyously. “And listen. Isn’t it peaceful?”

  Lucy had to smile, knowing that she had just learnt a valuable lesson. How one dog perceives a situation is not necessarily how the whole kennel will see it.

  “Yes,” Lucy responded. “It is a fine day. You look stunning this morning, if I may say so.”

  “Do you think so?” Pru replied. “So often when one sleeps heavily, one can’t do a thing with one’s coat in the morning.”

  “Well, I think your coat looks smashing today, Pru,” Lester said, as he slowly rose and stretched out his long lean body. “I really do.”

  Pru looked over at the Doberman and again their eyes met, this time staying locked for a longer period.

  “Thank you, Lester,” Pru mouthed, breathlessly.

  Rodney rolled onto his side and looked over at the pair. “Will you two please give it a rest, until I’ve at least had breakfast?”

  Everyone turned and smiled over at the terrier, who at first seemed serious the
n suddenly winked. They all laughed.

  After some brief route planning, the seven eased their way out of the bushes and down a quiet back alley. Pru gave Rodney some general direction tips as to the park’s location, but for all of them, it was going to depend very much on keen instinct, and even keener luck to find it.

  By mid-morning, they still couldn’t detect any sign of the park, so decided they should stop for food. They had all begun to feel stabbing pangs of hunger with each additional step. The bigger animals like Rex, and Hans, and even Lucy, seemed to be able to cope with the problem, but Rodney and Angel were clearly starting to drag.

  Rex had suggested they check out the contents of rubbish bins as he’d heard that they could be a good source of leftovers. The others were shocked at the idea and not remotely eager to lower their standards and do something that desperate. They did however agree to keep such an option open, but only as a last resort.

  Rodney then demonstrated a wonderful trick. He located a suitable residence, then made a monstrous din outside until the front door was opened. He then proceeded to swoon pathetically, finally allowing his tiny body to drop in a sad heap at the feet of the human. Their reaction, Rodney had explained, was always the same, and as the others watched from hidden locations, he seemed to be correct. A frantic, female biped scooped up the small terrier, and with great care, transported him into the house. Less than ten minutes later, Rodney came flying out an open window, sending freshly laundered net curtaining billowing out after him. In his mouth was a very tasty looking chicken leg. Rodney offered to share his prize with the others, but they all agreed that he had earned it, and besides, there was only enough for one anyway. With a display of truly superior tact, Rodney took his breakfast a decent distance from the others so as not to offend anyone as he ate.

  The others were so impressed by Rodney’s display that, after he consumed the chicken, they inundated him with questions as to the finer points of his method. The most important part, he stressed, was to ensure that a good exit was available before ever attempting the ruse. Look for an open window or door. If none exist, go to plan B. This is where you continue your dying-swan routine on the doorstep, but flatly refuse to go into the house. This can have two effects. The human will still take pity and bring the food out to you, or, and this should be noted, sometimes take offence at your distrust of their home, and shut the door in your face. Rodney then went on to explain plan C.