by Curt Cagle
Chapter 2
Other dogs from the barn arrived to the devastating scene, all with the same question in their minds. Cooper verbalized it. “How did this happen?” He asked his dad.
“I don’t know, but I plan on finding out.” Patches looked at the other dogs and said, “Somebody wake up the owl. We need an investigation. I’ll get the bloodhounds to meet him here.”
A little Shih Tzu offered to get the owl and took off into the grass, toward the woods and the owl’s favorite tree. “Dad, do you smell something weird?” Cooper asked.
“What do you mean?” Cooper raised his nose into the air and sniffed, “I’m not sure what it is but I smelled something. At least I thought I did, but now I’m not sure.”
Patches made an attempt to get a scent, but didn’t pick up on anything out of the ordinary. “I don’t smell anything, but your nose is younger and probably better than mine. Come on, we’ll go get the bloodhounds.”
A few hours later, at noon, the bloodhounds came back into the barnyard. Their attitude and demeanor was always difficult to perceive unless they were speaking. Cooper and Patches ran over as soon as they saw them. “What did you find out?” Cooper blurted.
They looked at each other, then the oldest spoke up. She was gray around the eyes and had scattered gray fur around her snout. Her abdomen hung loose and low from the many families she had raised. She answered, “We can’t speak about it right now. It’s still an open investigation. We brought together a team that’s looking into the circumstances and should be ready to discuss the findings by the end of the day. If you don’t mind, pass the word around that we’ll have a meeting to go over our conclusions at sunset.”
Patches nodded his head. “Okay, I understand. I’ll make sure everybody knows. What about the bodies at the pond? Can we let the families in and move the bodies?” He asked.
“That should be fine.” The old bloodhound leaned in and whispered into the ear of Patches, “Don’t let anyone drink the pond water for now.”
“Is something wrong with the water? What about the stream or the well water that fills the trough here at the barn?”
“I can’t speak to it now, just watch out at the pond. Okay?”
“Will do.” Patches turned toward Cooper a few steps away. “Son, I’ll go get the families, you can go on your way. Just be sure to be back at the barnyard for the meeting at sunset.”
Cooper nodded his head and watched his dad for a moment while he began to talk to the families. The bloodhounds walked away in single file behind the older lady. Cooper had seen dogs die before, but never more than one at a time, and never in such a mysterious way. He turned into the grass and the well traveled trail that was close by the barn. He arrived at several forks along the path, and each time the trail became less worn and narrower. He continued slowly across the stream and over to a small area where the water pooled. An eddy current caused the water in that spot to rotate slowly in a circle. Cooper stared at a few leaves on the surface as they made the circuit. He thought of the families of the dead dogs and the sadness they must be going through. He shook his head and got a drink, then continued on his way. He decided to go to the rock outcropping at the eastern side of the meadow. The trail was basically nonexistent, but he knew the way. It was a favorite place of his, though he didn’t make the trip that often, mostly because his mom thought it too dangerous. After a strenuous effort, he arrived on the top of the rock slabs.
The view was unmatched by any place on the farm. He lay on his abdomen with his front legs extended out. From this elevation he could see almost everything. The forest was toward the left. As he scanned back toward the right, he could see the pond at the edge of the broad meadow. He saw a group of dogs there and figured what they were up to. The stream twisted through the meadow straight ahead before disappearing with a distant turn. The barn was toward the right but only partially seen due to the hill that arose between them.
The hill was a place where many stone markers were arranged into orderly rows. Folklore among the dogs said that the humans once buried dogs at the spot, but he had never seen that happen. However, it was still a place of death. Among the dogs, it was called Bald Hill. Maybe it was because the soil was rocky and didn’t grow grass at the top very well, but he figured it more likely called that because of the birds that hung out there. Vultures, or buzzards, as some of the older adults called them, were always perched on the stones that were erected on the hill. Sometimes after a rain, he would see them with their wings spread out wide, drying them he supposed. He looked back to the pond and saw that the dog procession was on their way to Bald Hill. The long held tradition of the dogs was to drag their dead to the top of Bald Hill where the vultures would complete the cycle of returning the dead to the dirt. He had personally never made the trip to the top of Bald Hill, but had watched the event play out enough times to know what to expect. Only families were allowed to take their own dead to the hill, with the exception made for those who didn’t have enough family to get the job done. He watched with sad intrigue as to what the families must be going through, knowing all the while that someday it would be his job to drag someone to the top. The dogs pulling the bodies stopped on many occasions, presumably to rest, as it was a considerable distance and uphill the entire way.
A noise alerted him to movement from behind. He jerked his head around and saw that it was only Peace. “Hey, I didn’t know you came up here too.”
“I found it a few weeks ago,” he said. Peace walked over to where Cooper was and sat down beside him.
“I guess you know what they found at the pond, huh?” Cooper said.
“Yeah, actually I do.” He looked down to the ground between his paws. “It was my uncle.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. Sorry about that. You okay?”
“I guess. I really didn’t know him that well ‘til lately. He’s been running with us for about a month. Seemed like a cool guy though. I know Dad and Mom will miss him even more. Dad’s been acting like a pup around him, which has been kind of funny. They really seemed to hit it off. What about you? Did you know any of the dogs?”
“Sure, I knew ‘em. One in particular pretty well, but they weren’t family or anything like that. Still, it’s sad to watch the families go through that kind of thing.”
“I hear you,” he said. Peace eased his belly down to the ground and stretched his front legs out. “What’s going on down there now?”
The dogs here always take our dead to Bald Hill. “Over there,” Cooper pointed with his nose. “The vultures eat the bodies.”
Peace snarled his nose and said, “Dude, that’s hard core. Doesn’t that seem a little harsh?”
Cooper tilted his head to the side and said, “I never have thought about it. Seems like a good idea to me. I mean the vultures are going to get ‘em anyway. What’s your pack going to do with your uncle?”
“They already got him.”
Cooper snapped his head back toward the pond to see for himself. “Oh, I see. I hadn’t even noticed that he was gone. So what do the coyotes do with their dead?”
“We feed them to the pups.”
“Wow, talk about hard core,” Cooper said.
“At least it’s taking care of our own. I like to think of it as a way to achieve immortality. I mean, he becomes part of us literally.” Peace looked at Cooper until Cooper felt the stare and looked back. He said, “I guess were pretty different in a lot of ways.”
The heat of the sun got to both of them at the same time, and they both began to pant. Cooper smiled and said, “We may be a little different, but I think we’re the same in a lot more ways.”
The distant sound of large flapping wings returned their attention toward Bald Hill. The dog procession had made its way to the top and sent a dozen or so vultures airborne. They used the wind currents to climb into a pattern of varied spirals while the dogs pulled their loved ones through the monuments and scattered bones to the very top.