Lucy

by Chris Coppel

  “If you can’t see any exits,” he began. “and you don’t want to risk plan B, then this one usually does the trick. First you get their attention, as with the other plans, but then, and this is where you’ll need to bone up on your acting skills, you act in pain when they try and pick you up. This will keep you on the ground and under your own power. Then, as you make to enter the house, you cringe and back away as if there is something truly terrifying inside. Now when I say cringe, I mean cringe! You’ve got to make the biped believe that you desperately want to go into their home but are simply too nervous to do so. They rarely take offence at that. If you’re not getting your point across satisfactorily, go for the side-glance up at them and the mid-air paw wave. If you wish to try a light whine at this point, go ahead, but don’t overdo it. You mustn’t let it appear over rehearsed. If all goes well, they will leave the door open, even once you’re inside in an attempt to make you feel comfortable.”

  The others listened to Rodney’s lecture with awe.

  “How do you know so much about this line of work?” Rex asked suspiciously.

  Rodney stared back at the other dog with a slightly defensive look. “I get around,” he replied. “That’s all.”

  Rex nodded his head but was clearly not satisfied with the answer.

  Angel stepped forward from the group and asked if Rodney thought she could give the scam a try?

  “I don’t see why not,” he responded. “You’ve certainly got the looks for it.”

  Angel hung her head in mild embarrassment then gave Rodney a brief lick on the forehead. Rodney pretended to ignore this; however he couldn’t hide the almost ridiculous grin that covered his muzzle.

  “Come on then,” he said in a commanding tone. “Let’s find you a good house to try it out on.”

  The group walked along the street and saw what most of them considered being perfect sites for the trick, but Rodney simply shook his head and found something wrong with each one. Front windows shuttered, too big a drop from the windows, house not well kept, even one where the brass letter slot and door handle were tarnished. He explained that though seemingly minor, such traits showed a home without pride and, therefore, a human that was probably lacking in a true devotion to animals.

  Finally, after a good half hour, he led the group down a narrow cobblestone lane with a dead-end, a mere hundred yards further on. On each side were adorable, terraced homes, all with bay windows and window boxes, exploding with colourful displays of flowers.

  Angel explained that these were called mews cottages, and that although they looked quaint and exceedingly comfortable, they used to be the homes for the carriage horses. The upstairs quarters were for the drivers and grooms. The luxurious residences used to be little more than stables annexed to the very much larger, and far grander, homes at the front.

  Rodney chose one particular house halfway down the mews. It was painted a cheerful yellow with immaculate white wood trim. The bay windows were open, faced onto the mews, and only had a drop of a mere few paws or so to the cobblestones.

  “This’ll do nicely!” he exclaimed. “You know what to do? If you’re not ready, I could go over it again or even give another demonstration. I don’t want to rush you. I . . . ”

  “Rodney, stop,” Lucy chided gently. “Let the poor girl speak.”

  “It’s okay Rodney,” Angel said grinning. “I’ll be perfectly fine.”

  Rodney looked uncertain.

  “I promise,” she added softly, and with that, stepped toward the front door.

  The others all scattered to various hiding places to watch her performance. It was spectacular. She could easily have turned professional had she wished.

  She began with the merest whimper accented with an occasional yelp of discomfort. She progressed effortlessly into an outstanding act of howling, while still maintaining an overall sense of hurt and anguish. The others were most impressed by the oration.

  Before long, the door opened, and an elderly woman poked her head outside. She looked to the left then to the right before she realised that the pitiful sounds were coming from under her very nose. She grabbed her heavily blue-rinsed hair in shock, then immediately reached down and stroked Angel’s back. Angel let out a slight moan and looked up into the old woman’s face with wide, wet eyes that clearly captivated the poor, unsuspecting human. The biped, without warning, suddenly scooped the poor dog into her frail arms and vanished into the house, shutting the door behind her.

  Rodney looked over to the others with an expression of great pride as a teacher would for an excellent student. He was still grinning as he heard the distant sound of windows being closed behind him.

  He spun around and saw that the woman had already closed one half of the bay window and was reaching for the other.

  “We don’t want you sitting in a draft now do we, you poor little thing,” she said as she shut, and latched the other window.

  Rodney ran to the house and verified what he already dreaded to be the case. There was no way for Angel to get out!

  He turned and faced the others, who had moved from their places of concealment, and were now looking to him with anxious expressions.

  “Anything like this ever happened before?” Rex asked, in a concerned yet military tone.

  “To be honest, no. It’s always been a straightforward get in and get out proposition.”

  “Well, she’s certainly in,” Pru said.

  Rodney studied each face in the group, knowing that they needed his leadership more than ever at a time like this. “Ladies if you’ll excuse us for a second,” he said looking toward Lucy and Pru. “The boys and I need a moment to come up with a plan.”

  Lucy looked to Pru with utter disbelief at the terrier’s inference that planning was the male’s domain. She was about to speak up when Pru caught her eye and gestured her over to the side.

  “Don’t even think about it. They’re as stubborn as humans,” Pru warned her. “Let them have their little boy talk. It makes them feel superior.”

  “Superior to what?” Lucy snapped.

  “Don’t take it so personally. It’s nothing against you or me. Males simply believe they’re better, that’s all.”

  Pru could tell by the look of total astonishment on Lucy’s face that all this was new to her.

  “Trust me Goldie, this is how it is in the real world and it’s far easier to let them believe that they are right.”

  “Not for me it isn’t!” Lucy walked defiantly across the mews and up to the brightly painted door. Only Pru was watching her as the others were in deep conversation. Pru wanted to say something to stop her but gauged that Lucy was clearly upset, and therefore best left to do what she felt needed to be done.

  Lucy reached the door and began scratching it roughly with her front paws. She saw that she was gouging the paintwork with her nails, and though knowing that such vandalism was normally a mindless, and abhorrent act, she continued anyway, such was her anger and determination.

  After a few moments, and a good deal of scratched paint, the door opened. The kindly woman spotted Lucy, and again raised her hands to her blue hair.

  “Oh my! Will you look at this! Another one! Well, I never. And I suppose you’re also a hungry puppy? Well, I’m just going to . . . ”

  Lucy did not let her finish. She was not in the mood for human cuddle talk. She did something then she had never done before, yet considering the situation, felt no remorse, only a great fury that was still churning in the pit of her stomach. She growled. Not only that, but she also barked! Not a single or a double bark, but repeatedly in a rough and completely uncultured manner!

  The effect was highly rewarding. The colour drained from the woman’s face causing her skin to turn a shade closer to that of her hair. She backed away from Lucy, leaving the door wide open. Without a moment’s hesitation, Lucy stepped into the hallway and imme
diately spotted Angel. The Spaniel was lounging on a bed of fluffed up pillows while nibbling on a plate of chopped meat right next to her.

  “Lucy!” she said in a calm almost sleepy voice, “Come in, come in. Have some lunch. It’s quite tasty.”

  “Come on Angel, we’re leaving!”

  “No, I don’t think so; this is simply perfect for me. It’s cosy; it’s warm and old blue top over there can’t seem to do enough for me.”

  Lucy walked over to the Spaniel, then without warning, grabbed hold of the pillows in her teeth and pulled them forcibly out from under the other dog. Angel and the plate of meat went flying.

  “What was that for?” Angel asked as she righted herself on the floor.

  “That was for being a spoiled and selfish little . . . little . . . mongrel! Now come with me immediately, or I’ll really get cross!”

  “I’m not a mongrel!” Angel whined, as she stumbled to the door. “I’m not! I’m a pure bred. I am! Really I am!”

  Lucy followed the subdued little creature out the door, then felt a strong pang of guilt, and turned back to the house. The blue-haired woman was still trembling as she leant her fragile frame against the wall, halfway along the hallway.

  Lucy walked over to her, and with great courtesy and gentleness, took her frail hand in her mouth and led her to the sitting room and a large, overstuffed, flowery chair.

  The woman sat down as instructed but still looked at Lucy with fear and distrust. Lucy did not want to leave her with a bad memory of dogs. She placed her front paws on the arms of the chair and raised herself up, putting her golden head only inches from the woman’s face.

  The woman was scared, that was clear. There was only one thing for it. Lucy leant over and licked her face three times with a slow and gentle stroke. That always worked. Some smaller breeds believed that quantity was the ticket, and usually only succeeded in half drowning their victims in saliva. No - three gentle passes was the way Lucy had been taught, and by the woman’s reaction, it was obviously exactly the right approach.

  The woman instantly began to get colour back into her face and even reformed her wrinkled features into a smile. She reached out and, though still nervous, patted Lucy tenderly on the head. Lucy gave her hand a lick of thanks (standard protocol), then dropped to the floor and calmly walked out of the mews cottage, trying to ignore the powder from the woman’s face which still clung to her tongue.

  She strode over to the group of males, who were still standing around trying to come up with a plan. Lucy nudged Angel in between the plotting dogs, then sat herself defiantly onto her haunches.

  “So, you boys come up with a plan yet?”

  CHAPTER 12

  Once they had left the mews behind, the problem of food again dominated their thinking. Except of course for Angel, who was not only far from being hungry after her gluttony at the hands of ‘Old Blue Top’, but also seemed unable to refrain from belching quietly to herself as they made their way down a quiet, side street. Lucy had given her a couple of severe glances, which had no effect except to make Angel cringe and keep as far from her as possible. Their salvation came in the form of a supermarket delivery van and its romantically inclined driver.

  Rodney spotted it first. It was parked and the side panels were open revealing the tiers of bins in which individual customer orders were kept chilled. The driver of the vehicle was about half a block further down the street, chatting to a female biped as she stood on the top of some basement steps. Much to the dogs’ delight, the female must have said something intriguing and funny, as the delivery driver laughed very boisterously, then, after a quick glance up and down the road, followed her down into the basement.

  Rodney wasted no time and covered the distance to the van. He sprang up onto the side of the vehicle, then gingerly made his way between the tiers seeking out the best bins.

  He began handing down packages of mince beef, sausages, cheese and in a delightful coup, snagged a two-kilo bag of dry dog food. They opened all the sealed packages except for the dry food, and wolfishly gobbled down the contents of each one. The dog food would be taken away for later.

  Just as Rodney was about to devour a block of cheddar, there was a loud screeching of brakes inches away from them. As they turned to face the source of the din, they immediately spotted Skull Face as he jumped out of the passenger side of a grey van. The rear door flew open and Fat Man, followed by the Boxer, emerged. The dogs all gathered, cowering behind the delivery van. Nobody moved until the Squat Lady stepped out from behind the wheel, holding an evil looking gadget in her hand.

  “A dart gun!” Angel shrieked, “She’s got a dart gun!”

  Lucy had no idea what this meant, only that it was obviously not a tool associated with happy goings on.

  No one will ever know if Rodney was truly brilliant that day or just exceedingly lucky. He began to back away from the humans as he crouched in the delivery van. He managed to accidently (though he later insisted that it was completely intentional) tip a bin that was filled with wine bottles onto the road. As the bin struck the hard surface, bottles flew everywhere. Some broke, sending plumes of red liquid into the air, while others remained intact, rolling in every direction. The terrier started to tip all the crates off the van, then screamed for the others to make a dash for it.

  Even as he was giving them these instructions, he himself was in mid-air, having leapt off the van just as Skull Face was about to reach for him.

  The seven broke into a furious gallop, not even daring to look back as they ran. Finally, Lucy cast a brief glance behind, and had to stop as laugher overtook her.

  Their pursuers had not, in fact, gotten very far. As Lucy and the others looked on, they giggled openly. Between the sea of Burgundy, and the rolling bottles, the humans were finding it near impossible to stay upright. Even Champ was having trouble, and he had four legs! The final coup de gras, certainly from a comic sense, was when Squat Lady got shakily to her feet, and aimed the dart gun towards the dogs, then lost her footing. As she fell backwards, the gun went off. The Boxer suddenly yelped in pain, then began to stumble around with a drowsy expression on his face, right up until he toppled over, fast asleep. It was at this moment that the delivery driver came dashing up the stairs with his shirt untucked, yelling hysterically at the wine-covered bipeds by his van.

  The seven decided that although this was highly amusing, they had better keep moving and trotted off around the corner, hoping that their ex-captors were unlikely to disentangle themselves for quite some time.

  They headed down a wide, tree-lined boulevard until, as they rounded a bend, they all stopped to stare at the amazing sight in front of them.

  “The park!” Angel cried. “Look, the park!”

  “A park,” Pru responded. “Not the park. The one we’re after is still a little way further.”

  “What’s wrong with this one?” Hans asked excitedly. “I mean it’s big, it’s green, it’s full of trees and bushes. Look there! I just saw a squirrel. What’s wrong with this one?”

  “It’s not that big, and it has policemen in it all the time,” Pru replied.

  The others all felt that perhaps Pru was being just a little picky and was, for some reason, obligating them to seek out one specific park, when here was one that seemed to fit the bill perfectly.

  “Trust me,” she pleaded, “This is nothing! Where we’re going is a real park. If I’m wrong, I’ll get food for all of you for a week.”

  “How do you know this other park so well?” Rex queried, with mild suspicion.

  “It’s where my biped took me every day for my walk when she got home. Even if it were dark, she’d walk me as far as the lake then back to the flat.”

  The others all felt the sense of loss and homesickness that was emanating from the Afghan, and silently decided to let her at least show them ‘her’ park.

  They carried on until
they came upon the most incredible sight that most of them had ever seen. It was a truly magnificent, human building surrounded by tall, black and gold railings. Dotted around the perimeter were numerous immaculately dressed male bipeds, all in red and black uniforms.

  Angel explained that they were looking at Buckingham Palace, and that it was the home of the Monarch. When asked to explain exactly what that meant, Angel hung her head and began to withdraw, as she had the previous day when confronted with her lack of knowledge.

  “Hey,” Lucy said, nudging her. “Just say I don’t know. Nobody is going to think badly of you for that.”

  Angel raised her head and in a very weak voice, said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

  True to Lucy’s words, the others did not seem to care one way or the other. In fact, they were so riveted at the sight of the grand structure beyond the railings, that they didn’t react at all.

  Though they weren’t aware of it, they were only seeing a very small section of the palace, as they were in fact, looking at it side-on. As they moved further towards the front, the full splendour of the palace began to unfold before them.

  “Oh, oh!” Rex shouted as he pointed his long muzzle off to the side.

  The grey van was emerging from around a corner, driving slowly as its occupants stared out looking for them.

  “Come on!” Rodney cried. “Follow me.”

  “No! You can’t do that.” Pru uttered in astonishment, as Rodney walked through the palace railings and onto the forecourt.