Lucy

by Chris Coppel

“Very simple. I promised you the answer to one question. I meant one question. It’s what I said, it’s what I meant, and it’s what I did. See how simple it is.”

  “But I didn’t know,” Angel mumbled sadly.

  “You should always know the rules before entering someone else’s domain. It’s common sense,” he replied matter-of-factly.

  “Now look here Bob,” Rex said, using his most serious tone. “We didn’t know you were even down here. We were searching for chicken when we got shut in this place. Then Angel went missing and we had to come down here to find her, so you see, it’s not as if we were unprepared for this encounter. We simply didn’t know any of this would happen.”

  “Do you realise how silly that story makes you sound? You blindly stumble into a place you know nothing about purely because of a good smell! Then, you allow yourselves to be trapped with, if I’m not mistaken, half your team still up top, shut on the other side of the gate! Let me be blunt. Stop thinking with your noses. You have a brain. Use it. I watch dogs everyday sticking their noses in places I don’t even wish to talk about. I mean really! I’ve seen you lot begin a romantic encounter after no more than a sniff at another dog’s backside. Stop acting like such animals. You have eyes, and ears, and a brain. Use them. Think before you leap for a change.

  The three dogs all hung their heads in embarrassed shame. Bob’s words had evidently struck a nerve with each of them.

  “There’s no need to get down on yourselves,” Bob added to try and cheer them up. “Most of it’s in your genes and you can’t help it. I know that. All I’m saying is give your brain a chance occasionally.”

  The three dogs nodded their heads. Lucy was the first to finally look up into the smiling feline features. It was clear that Bob was observing their every reaction.

  “Enough of my lecturing. You lot haven’t told me the details of your quest!”

  “Our quest?” Angel looked confused.

  “You obviously have a quest, otherwise you wouldn’t all be together stuck here in the middle of the city, would you?”

  “Well . . . ,” Angel began.

  “In case you think that anyone’s going to mistake you for a pack of street dogs, forget it,” Bob stated with amusement. “I’ve never seen a bunch of hounds with so much human sense about them. It does show, you know.”

  “I didn’t realise,” Lucy replied with surprise. “What do you mean, it shows?”

  “Simple. Your poise, your speech, your coats, and your figures. Everything about you points to lives that have been governed by humans.”

  Rex nodded slowly, as if accepting the cat’s words without any argument.

  Angel on the other hand seemed quite upset at Bob’s observation. “I think that’s very rude,” she began. “Here we are, guests in your . . . your . . . whatever this place is, and you’re calling us . . . ”

  “I’m not calling you anything,” Bob interrupted gently. “There’s nothing wrong with it at all, in fact, if anything, it’s a plus.”

  “But you said . . . ,” Angel whined.

  “I said, you don’t look like street dogs. That’s good. Street dogs usually look underfed, are battle scarred, nervous and very dirty. You’re getting close in the dirt department, but apart from that, there’s no comparison.”

  The three dogs took a moment to check each other out from their new perspective as non-street dogs.

  “So, someone tell me about your quest!” Bob persisted.

  “It’s not a quest exactly,” Rex said.

  “It’s more of a . . . .” Lucy tried to find the right words. “A . . . . .”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake you two!” Angel interrupted. “It’s perfectly simple. We were all dog-napped by the same gang of bipeds and imprisoned together in this horrible place near a river, which is where we met. We were in the process of trying to get out of London when one of our group got caught by the gang who is now holding him back at the same place they held us. Clear enough?”

  “And you’re going back to try and rescue him, are you?” Bob asked with keen interest.

  “Of course,” Rex replied.

  “Do you have a plan?” Bob asked.

  “Not really,” Lucy said, slightly embarrassed.

  “Well, where exactly is this place they’re holding him?”

  “We’re not sure.” Rex also looked a little subdued.

  “So, let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Bob said, shaking his head.

  “You’re on your way to rescue your friend, but you don’t know where he is or what you’ll do when you find him. Is that about it?”

  “Not exactly,” Lucy said, defensively. “We’re actually on our way to meet St. Paul. He’ll help us find Rodney. That’s our friend’s name by the way.”

  “Very nice,” Bob said. “What’s this about St. Paul and his helping you, nonsense?”

  “It’s not nonsense,” Angel whined. “Everyone knows that saints are good humans and are always there to help bipeds or animals.”

  Bob looked to each face trying to keep his own from breaking into laughter. “You lot are too much, you really are! I don’t know how you’ve stayed in one piece, but it’s time you realised that it’s not a game out there. The streets are tough and mean and are ready to swallow up a group of wide-eyed, pampered, innocents like yourselves, in the blink of an eye!”

  Bob noticed Rex shaking his head slowly from side to side, clearly not accepting his words of warning.

  “You think you’re a tough one, do you?” Bob asked him with a coldness to his voice. “Been around have you?”

  “Actually, yes,” Rex answered forcefully. “I’m not a house dog. I’m a guard dog. I can take care of myself.”

  “Really!” Bob replied as he gestured to one of the tomcats standing back, observing the exchange.

  “Yes, really,” Rex countered as he watched the tom slowly approach him from the side. He tensed himself knowing that the large cat was there to obviously show him a thing or two about street smarts and toughness. He knew he was ready for any move the cat would try, as he shifted his weight onto his haunches, ready to spring up and out-manoeuvre his adversary.

  The next thing he knew, something hit him from the other side. One moment he was readying himself for an attack from the approaching tom, the next he was on his back with legs splayed, as another tom that he hadn’t even seen, held a paw full of razor-sharp nails against the pink flesh of his exposed belly. He dared not move as the cat clearly had the upper hand and could all too easily mortally wound him before he had a chance to shake him off his stomach.

  “Thank you, Claxaloufidites,” Bob said to Rex’s attacker, who withdrew his claws and with a brief nod to Bob, turned and re-joined the other cats.

  Rex got to his feet, and after a good shake to rid himself of the dirt and dust from the floor, turned to Bob with a growing smile on his muzzle.

  “Point well taken,” Rex said with complete sincerity.

  Bob simply nodded his acceptance of the Doberman’s words. He then turned to Lucy and Angel, who seemed totally stunned by the demonstration. Their eyes were as wide open as were their mouths. Bob could see that their breathing was fast and panting.

  “Please accept my apologies ladies,” Bob said. “But I felt that a demonstration was worth more than senseless words.”

  Rex stepped over to them and grinned broadly for their benefit.

  “It’s alright. I’m fine. He had a point to make and he certainly made it! He’s right. We’re obviously not particularly well suited for street life.”

  “But such violence!” Lucy said, her voice still trembling slightly.

  “If I get Bob’s subtlety, that was nothing compared with the violence we could expect to find outside,” Rex stated.

  “So,” Bob said as if nothing had happened. “let’s outline a couple of things whi
ch you may find helpful in your quest. By the way, yours is a quest. And a mighty noble one too!”

  The three dogs felt a sudden moment of pride as they realised that the cat was indeed right.

  “First,” continued Bob. “St. Paul is not a human, at least not for a very long time. It’s a Cathedral!”

  “A what?” Lucy asked.

  “A Cathedral,” Angel replied, as she shook her head in self-recrimination. “I knew that! It’s like a big church. Oh, how silly of me! Of course! St. Paul’s Cathedral. Completed in the biped year 1711 by Christopher Wren as a symbol of . . . ”

  “Thank you, Angel,” Lucy interrupted gently. “We get the point.”

  “I don’t,” said Rex. “How’s this Cathedral thing supposed to help us?”

  Bob laughed as he used his back leg to vigorously scratch under his chin.

  “I don’t think this is funny at all,” Lucy said in a serious tone. “What do we do about Rodney now. Who’s going to help us?”

  There was a lengthy silence as one by one, the three dogs focused their attention on Bob.

  “Oh no! Don’t even think about it,” he said, swishing his tail rapidly from side to side. “Los Gatos doesn’t do mercenary work. I’ll give you some advice, but that’s it.”

  “This isn’t mercenary,” Lucy pleaded. “Rodney is an animal like you and I, who has been wrongly imprisoned by the same type of bipeds that forced the creation of your society in the first place.”

  “Maybe, but . . . ” Bob tried to counter.

  “Maybe nothing!” Lucy insisted. “What happened to all that stuff about Los Gatos fighting for their oppressed brethren? What about vengeance against tyrannical humans? What about . . .?”

  “Stop! Enough!” Bob said, rising to his feet. “I told you, we don’t do that anymore. We can’t afford the luxury of soft-hearted ideals getting in the way of our primary interests.”

  “And those are . . .?” Lucy was beginning to sound peeved.

  Bob stared long and hard at each canine face before replying. Finally, posing his body in a clear defensive stance he said.

  “Profit!”

  “Profit?” Lucy cried. “What happened to the . . . ”

  “Lucy!” Rex interrupted sternly. “This is none of our business.”

  “But . . .” she tried again.

  “Lucy!” Rex again stopped her before she could say anything else. He then turned to Bob. “I’m sorry. Goldie here is extremely passionate about her views of right and wrong. Sometimes she insists on voicing them at inappropriate moments like this.”

  “There’s no need to apologise. I only wish we could help,” Bob responded politely, though still slightly defensive over his and Lucy’s recent exchange.

  “You could if you really wanted to!” Angel suddenly piped up.

  Everyone turned and stared at her in amazement.

  “Well, he could!” she stated.

  Bob checked each face again while he began to carefully wash the underside of one paw. This went on for quite a while as the three dogs nervously looked on. Finally, the washing stopped.

  “You three are very rude,” Bob announced.

  “What?” The three stammered in unison.

  “Yes, very rude indeed. You come into my home, then, without so much as a by your leave, you start lecturing, not only to me but to the entire society of the Los Gatos, on how we should run our lives. That is what I call rude! I would like to ask that if you plan to remain here any longer . . . ”

  “Like we have a choice,” Lucy mumbled, under her breath.

  Bob continued, but now with a glaring eye towards Lucy. “That you will from this point on, begin acting like guests.”

  Lucy was about to respond, but Rex chose to bite her gently on the rump freezing her words.

  With a furious look, she swallowed what she was about to say and stared angrily down at the ground. Rex looked to Angel, who was also focusing on the floor. With a slight smile on his muzzle, he then dropped his eyes to join the others.

  Finally, the three dogs slowly lifted their eyes and saw that Bob was in fact smiling quite genuinely at them.

  “Would I be correct in assuming,” he said with light amusement in his voice. “that a little supper would go down quite well about now?”

  “Food?” Angel shrieked, forgetting all else as her tongue began lolling out the side of her mouth, giving her an imbecilic look.

  “Yes, my dear, food. Sustenance, nourishment, feed…call it what you like! This is Wednesday and Andre usually prepares something quite exceptional on Wednesdays. Shall we see what he’s put together this evening?”

  The three canine heads nodded in unison as each dog began to fantasise on his or her own vision of what Andre’s feast would contain. Bob stretched himself into a standing position then, with a flip of his tail, spun around and began walking away from them.

  “I suggest you follow me,” Bob stated without even looking back. “We don’t deliver.”

  The dogs obediently got to their feet and followed the cat past the biped vehicles and through the sea of feline figures, which parted noiselessly to allow their leader to pass through.

  Bob led the dogs to the farthest wall of the lowest level, and with great pride, and a sweep of one paw, gestured for them to behold the Wednesday night buffet. Against one wall and laid out on a flat protruding section of concrete, was the cat’s big feast.

  There could be little doubt for whom this meal was intended. Andre, it seemed, had done an outstanding job to cater to a feline’s every whim.

  At one end of the banquet table, the spread began with a selection of tiny sparrows, each artistically arranged on its own cabbage leaf. Next were what Lucy had first thought were raisons until, on closer examination, she saw that they were in fact flies, thousands of them. The display continued with delicacy upon delicacy until it culminated with Andre’s ‘piece de resistance’. At first the dogs couldn’t even begin to guess what they were looking at. It appeared to be, and certainly smelled like, custard. Small round balls of it, each with a stick-like protuberance that stuck straight up out of each. It wasn’t until they observed one cat bite into one that they realised they were custard-covered field mice!

  “Help yourselves,” Bob encouraged. “There’s plenty. Andre always over does it.”

  The three dogs looked the length of the banquet, then forlornly back at Bob without saying a word.

  “I thought you were hungry?”

  The three shook their heads sadly. They were of course famished, but not enough so that they could bring themselves to eat any of the bizarre assortments that were currently spread out before them.

  “It’s not the food is it?” Bob asked with concern.

  “No, of course not,” Lucy answered politely.

  “Good. Good. I’d hate to think you didn’t approve of our little buffet.”

  The three dogs offered him their best smiles.

  “You know, I just thought of something,” Bob said, as if to himself.

  He turned and trotted off towards one of the biped vehicles. He crawled under the front of it and could be heard scratching at something. They all then heard something drop to the ground. Bob reappeared, backing himself out from under the car, dragging a large, brown paper bag. He managed to pull the hefty bundle over to the three observing dogs then left it at their feet.

  “I know you can’t wait to dive into our fine feast, but just in case our meal might be a little too refined for your palettes,” he said with a slight smile. “we arranged for a backup meal.”

  With that, he turned away and joined a couple of comrades already in line for the buffet. Lucy looked to Rex wondering what exactly was expected of them, when Angel acted on their behalf. She bent her muzzle to the brown bag and grabbed the bottom of it and lifted. The contents spilled out onto the ground, revea
ling piece after piece of still warm, succulently prepared, roast chicken. Even Angel looked stunned as she stood and stared at the dream meal that had been produced for their enjoyment.

  Lucy looked up and sought Bob out among the myriad of feline banqueters. She spotted him almost immediately, standing in a group of tough-looking tomcats, clearly in the middle of telling them some sort of story. The toms hung on every word as they stared in rapt fascination at their noble leader. As if sensing her look, Bob glanced over towards her. She mouthed the words, “Thank you,” to which she was rewarded with a clear, and amused wink from Bob, before he returned to his story telling.

  The three dogs then settled to the ground and began their fine, and long overdue meal. At one point, Lucy suddenly remembered Hans and Lester shut out in the night, somewhere overhead. A passing Siamese assured her however, that they had been recently checked on and were fine. One of the Gatos had taken them some dinner earlier in the evening. They were now fast asleep, still nestled up against the unkempt biped.

  Once fully sated, Lucy found it difficult to keep her own eyes open but knew it would be terribly rude to simply eat then nap when in someone else’s abode. She turned to the others to try and begin some conversation but found that both were already fast asleep. Rex, in a dignified curl with his head resting on his own hindquarter, and Angel in a very unladylike pose, flat on her back with her legs splayed out to each compass point. Adding to the sight, was her tongue which was dangling out the side of her mouth and her small, but bulging, belly which protruded above her coat as it rose and settled rhythmically in sleep.

  Lucy looked over to the cats and saw, to her astonishment, that they were gone. Not all of them, but certainly most. As she watched, she saw the few remaining felines as they cleaned up the last traces of their fine buffet. Then, one by one, they walked to a particularly dark corner of the level and seemed to simply vanish into the wall. As she continued to observe the parting felines, the lights of the biped vehicles suddenly clicked off, one at a time, halving the illumination with each disconnection. Finally, the last lights were extinguished, and Lucy was again faced with complete and utter darkness.