I awoke the next day as the sky lightened and the birds began their morning songs. Moon was still on the leaf bed, now stretched out on her stomach, head resting on her front paws.
When I saw this, I knew she was there to stay.
Moon may have been little, but she was brave — brave and bold and adventurous like Bone. Once she knew where the garbage cans were, she visited them regularly. She was more inclined to raid the garbage than to hunt. On our first morning together I left our den and began poking around in the brush for small animals. I expected Moon to join me, but tail held high, she headed in the direction of the houses. She looked at me over her shoulder several times, so after a moment I took my nose out of the brush, even though I was positive I could smell a mouse in there, and I followed her.
At the edge of the woods I sat on my haunches and surveyed the backs of the houses as I usually did before approaching the garbage cans.
Not Moon. She marched boldly across one of the yards, reminding me of Mine, not bothering to listen for voices or to look around for other dogs. She had just reached the nearest can and I was wondering what she was going to do, since the lid looked fastened securely and Moon wasn’t big enough to knock the pail over, when — BANG.
At the back of the house a door had opened, then slammed shut, and a woman carrying two large bags of garbage high-stepped across the wet grass in her bedroom slippers. She stopped suddenly when she saw Moon and dropped the bags onto the lawn. “Hey, doggie,” she said. “What are you doing here? Who do you belong to?”
Moon was gone in a flash. She zipped toward the woods and as she did, I retreated, not wanting to be seen by the woman. I was ready to return to my hunting — to the brush, and the mouse I knew was in there. But after a moment, I realized Moon wasn’t behind me, so I turned and stole back to the edge of the woods.
There was Moon, sitting beneath a tree, watching the woman who was watching her. As soon as the woman had put the bags in the pails and disappeared inside her house, Moon ventured out of the woods again, but this time she went to the house next door. I could see two garbage cans there, each with its lid on. Moon paused between them and looked up. She stood on her hind legs and placed her front paws against one of the cans. Then she nosed the lid with her snout, and with a clatter the lid fell to the pavement.
I had been sitting on my haunches, but now I leapt onto all four feet. I was ready to turn and run into the woods again, but instead found myself running toward Moon. When I reached the garbage can, I pulled it over easily, and Moon and I surveyed the bounty. Someone had thrown away half a ham. We pounced and were devouring it noisily when I heard a voice say, “There it is! Oh, look. There are two dogs now.”
I yelped, then jumped backward, growling.
Behind me were two women, one of them from the house next door. “The little one is the one I saw before,” she was saying. “I don’t know where the big one came from.”
“What should we do?” asked the other woman. “Call the pound?”
“I suppose so.”
But Moon and I were halfway back to the woods by then. And when we did reach the woods, I saw that Moon was carrying the rest of the ham in her mouth.
After that, Moon checked the garbage cans frequently, but she never again found anything as wonderful as the ham. And we discovered that the lids on the cans were now apt to be fastened extra tightly, and that some people began placing bricks on the lids.
I returned to my hunting and had good luck again. Moon, though, was not a talented hunter. I shared my kills with her, but hunting for two was much more work than hunting just for myself, and Moon and I were often hungry. One day I noticed Moon sitting at the edge of the busy road, watching the traffic and the mall beyond. I thought of Bone waking at night in our shed and listening to the coyotes in the hills, and I wasn’t surprised when on the next day Moon emerged from our den and began walking through the woods, not toward the mall, not toward the houses, but along the creek bed in the direction of the rising sun. I knew she wasn’t going to come back.
So I left the den, too. I felt little attachment to it, wanted only the company of Moon. This was different from following Bone, though. When I was a puppy I had followed Bone away from our home because I was frightened. Now I was following Moon because I was brave. I had lived on my own for a long time, I had done lots of things on my own — scary things, things I did not want to do. I knew I could be Squirrel Alone. But I didn’t have to be. So I bravely left the woods, my home for many changes of the moon, and followed my new friend.
On that first day we walked until the woods ended and the creek emptied into a small pond. Beyond the pond stood a house. Not far beyond that house was another. And another and another. These houses were smaller than the Merrions’ but larger than Marcy and George’s, and they were set far apart, surrounded by gardens, large trees, and woods. The morning had dawned sunny with a clear blue sky, but as Moon and I had traveled along the creek bed, the day had darkened and the air had grown first damp, then misty. Now as Moon and I sat looking at the house by the pond, the fog drifted around us like smoke, hiding trees and bits of the house, then revealing them again, so that for a while I saw the yard only in pieces.
It was early summer. The leaves on the trees were still new, and until this morning the air had been warm, even hot. But now Moon and I were chilly. I stood up and shook myself off. I was hungry, but more than anything, I wanted to be warm and dry. Through the blowing fog I thought I could see a shed. It stood across the pond from the house. I trotted toward it, Moon at my heels.
We found the shed, but no way into it. It was sturdily built and the door was closed tightly.
Moon and I, shivering now, skirted the edges of the yard, tromped through a garden, and found another shed. No way in.
Just as the air became so heavy with moisture that the mist turned into a driving rain, I spotted a large structure. I know now that it was a barn, but I didn’t know what it was then. The barn was dark; no lighted windows like we saw in the houses. And there were several open doors. Moon and I ran toward the barn, the rain biting into our skin. I came to a fast stop at one of the open doors.
So many odors with so much to tell me. Moon and I stood still, our noses in the air. I smelled grain, I smelled mice, I smelled cats, I smelled hay. I smelled people, but only faintly. What I smelled most strongly was an animal odor I couldn’t quite identify. It turned out to be horses, which I had seen once or twice on the road near the Merrions’ house.
Moon and I crept into the barn and nosed around until we found a warm, dry spot near a door in case we had to leave quickly. We settled as far from the other barn animals as we could get, and spent the night there. When we awoke in the morning, the sun had returned and the air was warm again. Moon and I scrounged for food, then went on our way.
Moon and I traveled together for many days, following streams or roads, but making sure to stay well away from the roads so that people in cars couldn’t see us. We walked through woods and pastures. When we came to a town or a farm, we looked for food and for dry places in which to sleep. Sometimes we stayed in one spot for several days, but mostly we were on the move, trotting along shoulder to shoulder, my friend Moon and I.
It was full summer when Moon and I came to the resting place near the highway. The days were still long but beginning to grow shorter, the leaves had a dusty gray look to them, and the crickets and katydids and other noisy insects made such a racket that sometimes at night I had trouble listening for predators.
Moon and I had traveled for hours that day, walking through the woods, keeping a highway to one side of us. We were tired, we were hungry, we had burrs in our ears and tails, and Moon had stepped on a sharp stick and her paw was bleeding.
Moon was sitting near a fallen log, licking her wound, when I caught the first whiff of garbage. I had been resting beside Moon, was dozing in the shade with my eyes half closed, when the odor reached my nose. I jumped to my feet and breathed in deeply. I was tem
pted to run toward that good smell, but I moved slowly because I could also smell humans.
Moon gave her foot a final lick and followed me. I stalked through the woods until I came to a clearing. I could hear traffic nearby, but I couldn’t see the highway. In the clearing were several wooden tables with benches, a building in which humans could go to the bathroom, and lots of garbage cans. Nearby was a stretch of asphalt like the one at the mall. Several cars were parked on it. I had been to places like this before and had seen cars pull off the highway and park on the asphalt. Then people would climb out of the cars, sit down at the tables, and eat food that they would remove from bags and boxes. They would eat and talk and stretch, and that was how I knew this was a highway resting place.
I looked at the tables and benches now and saw only two people sitting and eating. Moon and I watched them and after a few minutes, they stood, gathered up papers and bags and cans from their table, dumped the things in the nearest garbage can, and returned to their car. As soon as the car had driven away, Moon and I trotted into the resting place.
We ran to the first garbage can we saw and I pushed it over. Moon crawled inside and began pawing the contents onto the grass. Picnic leftovers, Moon and I had learned, could be very, very good. Here we found apple cores, the ends of sandwiches, nearly empty potato-chip bags, pieces of deviled eggs, cookie crumbs, and a whole slice of cheese.
I pounced on the cheese, and Moon grabbed the end of a sandwich. We ate and ate, pausing from time to time to listen to the traffic, listen for the sound of an approaching car.
We heard nothing until the growling started.
Moon was inside the garbage can again then, rummaging through the papers, and I was at the mouth of the can, eating a pretzel. When we heard the first growl, Moon shot out of the can and ran into me, and I dropped the pretzel and turned around, my hackles raised.
It was twilight, that time of day when shadows grow long and the light starts to fade and a dog’s eyes can play tricks on her. I looked in the direction of the growling, but at first I could see only the humans’ bathroom, and beyond that, the edge of the woods through which Moon and I had been traveling. A moment later, I thought I saw movement, but I wasn’t sure.
The growling deepened.
And then I saw the eyes in the woods. A streetlight had turned itself on, and its rays made the eyes glow. I saw so many pairs of eyes that my body jerked and I began to pant. I looked around at Moon and in that instant a pack of dogs rushed out of the twilight, teeth bared, snarling and yipping.
Moon and I broke into a run and streaked away from the dogs. We ran and ran, not caring where we were headed or whether any people saw us. I ran faster than I had ever run. I ran so that my ears blew back from my head. I ran so that I could barely feel the ground under my paws. I ran until my chest heaved and my breath came heavy and fast. Twice I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Moon was keeping up with me. When I saw her at my heels I ran even faster.
The dogs were following us, I was sure of that. But Moon and I were faster than they were. We ran and ran and ran and ran until … WHOOSH-WHOOSH-WHOOSH. Suddenly the highway spread before us, cars speeding by in both directions. I stopped short and once again Moon crashed into me. We had almost darted onto the highway, darted among all those cars and trucks, into that blur of metal and tires.
We backed away, turned around, and started running again. Night was falling. I wasn’t sure where the resting place was. I smelled food, but it seemed too nearby to come from the garbage cans we’d been eating from. So I led Moon toward the good smells, and the next thing I knew the dogs — the same vicious dogs — were all around us. We were back in the resting place after all.
The dogs were starving. They were desperate. And there were lots of them. The moment they spotted Moon and me they charged toward us. We couldn’t run away; they formed a circle around us. For one moment, before the fight began, the scene seemed frozen like the puddle in the woods, and I could see every dog clearly. They were different shapes and sizes, but all stood stiffly, ears back, snarling and bristling. I could see their ribs, their entire skeletons, forming knobby ridges under their skin. Their fur was patchy and dirty. One dog seemed to have almost no fur at all. And their eyes were rheumy and runny.
I edged closer to Moon, close enough to feel her body heat. Moon was panting heavily, her own legs stiff, her own ears back, a snarl escaping from her mouth.
Moon was the littlest dog there.
I noticed all this, as if the world had stopped, and then everything jerked back into motion. The dogs ran at us, snapping. I bared my teeth. When one of the dogs leapt on me, we rolled around and around on the asphalt, fangs bared. I snarled and yipped and sank my teeth into the dog’s flank. I felt her teeth sink into my neck.
Two dogs slammed into Moon, throwing her to the ground. They jumped on her, and the three of them became a whirl of fur and teeth and claws. I heard Moon scream, but then one of her attackers let out a scream of his own and leapt away. He sank to the ground and lay there, panting hard. The other dog also backed away, and when Moon stalked toward him, he turned and limped behind a trash can.
The dog who had bitten my neck now stood before me, poised to charge again. But I surprised her. I charged first, grabbing her bony shoulder between my jaws. The dog shrieked, pulled herself from my grasp, and ran off. I looked around for Moon and felt a blow on my back. The biggest of the dogs had jumped on me first. Our heads knocked together, my tooth pierced my lip, my skull smashed onto the asphalt. I was at the bottom of a heap of flesh and limbs. I was smothering. I couldn’t see.
And then the dogs began to roll off of me and slink away. Moon was at my side, still snarling, still baring her teeth, still menacing the other dogs. Our attackers were old and weak and unhealthy, but they had made their point. They kept their eyes trained on Moon and me. When we began to edge out of the resting area, out of their territory, they turned toward the trash cans.
Moon and I moved as fast as we could, but I didn’t have the strength to run. We limped along, keeping the resting place at our backs, the highway to one side, the woods to the other, as far from the traffic as possible. Soon, though, I felt as if I couldn’t take another step. I sat down in the stubby grass.
Moon nudged me with her nose. I didn’t budge. Moon nudged me again and turned into the woods. After a moment I followed her. She picked her way through the brush and flopped down on a little bed of leaves. I thought the bed might have belonged to a deer, but I didn’t care. I flopped down, too.
I was still breathing heavily, and every part of my body hurt. I licked at Moon, searching for her injuries, and she licked at me. We were bleeding from many cuts and scratches. I found several bites on Moon, but none seemed too deep. One of Moon’s ears was torn, though, and one of my front paws had a gash in it. Moon found the gash and licked away.
After a while Moon began to lick her own wounds and I licked mine. I licked and licked and licked and licked. When the taste of blood faded, I laid my head on my front paws and rested. Presently Moon stopped licking, too, and she curled up on her side, her back to my chest.
We fell into a deep sleep on our leaf bed in the strange woods, our bodies aching, our heads throbbing, our mouths dry. Overhead, the moon rose and circled the sky. Crickets chirped, owls hunted and hooted. I think the deer returned in search of her bed. She watched us for some time, then left quietly.
Moon and I slept on.
That night I licked my wounds as I slept. I licked and slept, licked and dreamed. I was in exquisite pain.
The dreams circled around me. My bruised body floated above the ground, and below, far below, I saw the vicious dogs and my old den in the woods and the mall and Marcy and George’s house, and then I was above the Merrions’ house, swallows swooping by the chimneys and roofs. I could feel the whisper of their wings against my fur.
On the lawn, which seemed a very long way down, I saw Matthias reading in the shade of a tree. The other boy and the noisy girl
were spraying each other with the garden hose, shrieking and laughing. They sprayed Matthias and he jumped to his feet, the book falling out of his lap. Then, like a snake, he glided across the grass and slid under our shed.
The sky and the swallows and the rooftops disappeared suddenly, and I found myself among the rafters in the shed, still looking down, watching what was below. And there was my family. Mother and Bone and I were sleeping in the wheelbarrow. We breathed steadily and heavily. Bone’s foot twitched as he dreamed, as I dreamed of his dreams. A mouse emerged from a small hole near a roof beam, scampered to a spot just above Mother’s head, and watched us solemnly. Mother stirred, Bone stirred, I stirred. The mouse crept away and we slept on.
I felt myself falling then, crashing, and I awoke with a jerk that made my body throb. Next to me Moon quivered, rolled over, and licked at a bite on her rear leg. When I drifted into sleep again, I found myself back at the shed, but this time Mother was gone and Bone and I were sitting on the burlap nest. Matthias eased quietly through the door and held out his hand to us. When he opened it, a swallow was perched on his palm. Matthias set the swallow on the floor and left the shed. The swallow flew up into the rafters, and when I turned to look at it, I found myself outside, hunting with Bone in the woods. I was hungry. My stomach was rumbling. Bone and I couldn’t find the garbage heap. I was thirsty, too, my mouth dry as sand.
I woke and saw that Moon was gone. I was alone on the leaf bed. I licked my feet and fell asleep again. I slept and dreamed and woke and licked. Sometimes when I awoke, Moon was next to me; sometimes the leaf bed was empty. Sometimes the light in the woods was bright, the sun shining through the leaves; sometimes the woods were in darkness except for weak moonlight. I slept for a day and a night and another day and another night and part of the day after that. Moon stayed close by. When she left the leaf bed, she didn’t go far.
A Dog's Life: The Autobiography of a Stray Page 5