Say No More

by Sasson, Gemini

  Halfway there! I crested the pinnacle, saw the land on the far side — and not one, but two cars headed straight for me. Their lights were blinding. I slowed, put my head down, and hugged the side wall. The first sped by furthest from me, but as the second passed, a blast of air shoved me into the concrete. I closed my eyes. The smell of rubber and gasoline invaded my nose. The road vibrated under my paws. The bridge itself shook.

  When the shaking finally stopped, I started again, still running, but more wary. The road dipped downward. My stride gained speed. It was hard to distinguish the wind from the rumble of an oncoming vehicle. I resisted looking back. Too much time lost.

  Almost to the other side, I eased my pace. On my side of the road were buildings, lights illuminating a parking area outside of them. How had I not noticed that before? If I had, I would have gone down the other side. I was about to stay my course when I saw people milling about outside one of the buildings. No, I should go to the opposite side, avoid them. No sense taking chances. Not when I’d come this far, crossed the bridge.

  I passed a glance over my shoulder and cut across the road. But I had misjudged the distance remaining. Before I reached safety, a vehicle came flying over the bridge behind me. I didn’t hear it. And it ... didn’t see me.

  There was a burst of light, a blast of air, and then an explosion inside my chest. I felt myself lifted up, flung high, slammed onto the road, and then I skidded across the rock hard surface before landing on the gravel strewn edge.

  Ahead of me, brakes screeched on pavement, igniting the smell of rubber. Then a car door slammed, feet pounded.

  Two faces hovered over me.

  “Oh my God! I didn’t see it,” a woman said. “I swear I didn’t see it.”

  “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay. Go get the blanket out of the trunk. We’ll put her in the car, then go over to that gas station. They can tell us where the closest vet is.”

  The man put his hands on me, stroked my head.

  If I could have run away then, I would have. This time, though, I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I couldn’t move.

  chapter 23

  I was stretched out on a towel reeking of something astringent, my head resting upright against a cool surface. I’d been sleeping for a long time and it was a wonderful thing to do. I wanted to keep sleeping, but my senses were sharpening. Unfamiliar sounds stirred me to the verge of alertness. I was aware of things happening around me: people talking, other dogs barking, a cat growling, the ping of metal instruments, and water running. It took some time before I recognized the smell: disinfectant.

  The vet’s!

  That was the last place I wanted to be. Being at the vet’s meant needles jabbing at your skin, fingers probing in delicate places, thermometers in your —

  How can I get out of here?

  I pried my eyes open. Images blurred together. I had to focus for several minutes, my head lolling uncontrollably, before objects sharpened. I felt oddly weak, just as I had after Tucker had given me that shot.

  In front of me were thin metal bars in a woven pattern. The door to my cage was set on solid hinges, with a trigger-type of latch on tightly coiled springs. No amount of biting at the wires would free me — I didn’t need to break my teeth on it to know that. These cages were meant to be inescapable prisons, any entrance or exit controlled only by the dexterity of human hands.

  Proof that these people meant to keep me hostage, too, just like Ned and Tucker.

  A long needle had been inserted into a vein on one of my front legs. Tape held it in place and from the bottom of the layers of tape a clear tube emerged. The tube snaked out through the bars, leading to a plastic bag that dangled from a hook near the top of the door. I nibbled at the edges of the tape, but every small movement I made only brought a fresh stab of pain, so I left it alone for the time being.

  Stretching a stiff neck, I looked outside my cube of a prison. I could tell by the sounds that more animals were caged on either side of me and some above. There was a small bank of cages to the left. Mostly cats with their ears flattened, looking totally pissed off. I shuddered. I had yet to meet a cat I liked. Why humans kept them around was a mystery to me.

  In one of the cages that I could see, though, were four small puppies. They huddled against one another, fright evident in their limpid eyes. Their coats were dull, their ribs gaunt, and their bellies distended. They were sick and underfed. I wondered if that was how I had looked when Ned Hanson was supposed to be taking care of me? I wanted to lick the puppies, bring them food, snuggle against them until they were well. I wanted to care for them like I had wanted — needed — someone to care for me.

  Further down the narrow room and to the right was a row of kennels. The angle made it hard for me to see inside, but occasionally a black Labrador Retriever would come to the kennel door and look out. He thumped his tail against the sides of the kennel and bounced on his feet in greeting every time a human passed. Was he insane? He should be hiding at the back end, not inviting people to take him out and poke at him.

  A young woman with a high ponytail and wearing pink scrubs came toward me. I straightened my legs to push myself against the back of the cage, but the moment I did that an unexpected tightness flared over my left hip. Baffled, I glanced toward my rump. My coat was shaved from my loin, forward to my flank, then down to the bulk of my thigh. A long scar puckered over pink skin, stitches crisscrossing a jagged line.

  “You’re awake.” The woman slipped her fingers between the bars and wiggled them.

  I inhaled her scent, but hung back. I would not be as gullible as the Lab. My trust had to be earned. I guarded it closely. Relying on myself had preserved me ever since Tucker Kratz shooed me onto the highway from that rusty trailer on a rain-drenched night.

  “Don’t worry, girl.” She smiled, but her eyes were sad. “I won’t hurt you.”

  Yeah, I’ve heard that before. It earned me a kick in the ribs once, a drug-induced haze another time.

  She disappeared for a minute, then returned with a handheld rectangular device. Flipping the latch on my kennel up, she reached inside. If I’d had the strength to scoot away, or even the presence of mind to bite her, I would have. But it was as if every thought in my head was swimming through pond muck. I couldn’t think quickly, couldn’t act quickly; I was at her mercy.

  She waved the device over my withers. It beeped softly. She turned it over, squinting at the display.

  “Ah, you do belong to someone, then. Well, that’s good news, isn’t it? We’ll just make a couple of calls and you should be back home in no time.”

  Home. The word echoed in my head. Home. Home. Home. The best word that humans ever spoke.

  Please, please, please send me home.

  I was tired of wandering alone, tired of not knowing when my next meal would be or how long it would be before the nights turned unbearably cold and the water froze everywhere.

  I wanted to go home, sleep beneath Cecil’s kitchen table, wake to the smell of Bernadette cooking bacon on the stove, put the sheep out every morning so they could eat their fill in the green hilly pastures and then bring them in every night so they would be safe from the coyotes.

  Before she even drew her hands out, a high-pitched scream tore from a back room. They were torturing a dog back there, I could tell. The woman appeared unconcerned.

  “Poor thing. You’re shivering.” She ran a hand over my neck, stroking lightly. “Are you cold or just scared?”

  I gazed into her kind brown eyes. She seemed like a good person, but ... I tensed as her hand drifted toward the stitches.

  A tiny growl escaped my throat. Narrowing her eyes, she pulled her hand back slowly and shut the door.

  “Hmmm, not sure about me yet, are you? That’s all right. I’d be pretty out of sorts, too, if a car rolled me on the highway, fractured my pelvis and femur, and I ended up here with pins in my leg, wondering what the heck was going on. Well, if you had to get hit, you’re lucky it was by
someone with morals enough to bring you to a veterinarian.” She took a pen out of her breast pocket, glanced again at the display on the device, and jotted something down on the clipboard hanging on my cage. “The way these microchip listings go, if your owner has been looking for you, we’ll get a contact number pretty quick. Good luck, girl.”

  The Lab thumped his tail against the concrete block wall as she walked by. She stopped and pressed the flats of her palms against the links. He licked them, his big pink tongue making slurping noises.

  She laughed. “You’re such a good boy, Henry. You get to go home soon. How do you like that?”

  I rested my head between my paws, eyeing the tape on my leg and the tube that connected me to the bag of fluid.

  I wanted to go home, too. More than anything.

  The problem was that I wasn’t sure where home was anymore.

  —o00o—

  I didn’t see the woman with the ponytail the rest of that day. Others came by to check on me, cleaned my wound, changed the bag when it emptied of fluid, and gave me fresh water and small portions of canned food to eat. The food had a bitter taste to it, and I suspected there was some drug in it that kept me groggy, but I ate it anyway. I was hungry, very hungry.

  The humans made a point of talking to me. I wasn’t interested in their lies. They talked of ‘home’, trying to lull me into giving my trust so they could keep me on hand for whatever wicked purpose they had waiting. I refrained from biting any of them, although the opportunities were abundant. I needed the sustenance they gave me, needed to grow stronger, needed to wait for the chance to bolt to freedom and find my own way home.

  As the day wore on, all the people in their scrubs left except one, a younger man with wiry red hair, who busied himself taking the kennel dogs out on leash and feeding the puppies. A man in a suit came and took the gullible Lab, who was beside himself with joy at the reunion. The red haired man locked all the doors and left after that.

  Then came the night. The puppies whined incessantly, the cats yowled like they were in mortal agony, and every dog there, except me, joined in a chorus of howls. While I shared their misery, I didn’t have the energy to sing with them. My body was busy mending. Rest was important if I were ever going to get better, so I could move the sheep when I went home.

  Maybe someday, Cecil and I would trial again. Not that it mattered whether we won or not. I just wanted to work for him. To show the world how tightly interwoven our relationship was. Because working is what I was born to do. It was my purpose and in fulfilling my purpose, I made my human content. I needed Cecil because he needed me.

  Yet, I wasn’t sure if I had merely dreamt of Cecil while in the trailer — or if that, too, had been a ghost.

  I preferred to believe I was just crazy. That I had never seen any ghosts at all. Ever. Because Cecil had to be alive. There had to be someone for me to go home to, a reason that I had survived.

  —o00o—

  A hand curled around the door frame and flicked a switch on the wall. Lights flickered and hummed, until their full brightness flooded the room. Immediately, all the animals, except me, scampered to their feet, toenails tapping on metal and concrete. The Chihuahua next to me whimpered annoyingly, begging to go out.

  Craning my neck toward my bowl, I drank my fill. That was when I realized I needed to pee. As in I really, really, really needed to pee. Now!

  I braced my front legs, tried to push myself up, but my legs slid out from under me. My ribs smacked down on the bottom of my cage. Not to be thwarted, I tried again. The needle pulled at my skin. I clamped my teeth on the tubing and jerked it free. Clear, sugary fluid dripped onto the floor of my cage. The needle, still in my leg, burned. A tiny drop of blood spotted through the tape.

  “Whoa, whoa!” The ponytailed woman rushed to my cage and opened it. She pressed her thumb to a spot just above the needle and carefully pulled it free, then slipped it into her pocket. “Looks like you’re awake today. I suppose you want to go outside, huh?”

  Outside? Yes, I woofed softly. I didn’t want to sound too enthusiastic. It was important that I remain aloof.

  I attempted to pull my back legs under me so I could stand, but my left one seemed fused straight. I couldn’t bend it.

  “Hold on a minute, girl.” Her hand pressed firmly down on my ribs so I couldn’t stand, she called toward the door for someone. A few moments later, a round-bodied woman shuffled in. Together, they lifted me from the cage and set me down. Then the other woman wrapped a towel under my belly like a sling.

  Thus began the most humiliating day of my life. I couldn’t walk on my own. I had very limited control of my back legs. If I tried to stand, I wobbled. I would have fallen if they were not there to steady me. When I tried to walk, I pitched to the right and my body threatened to fold into an embarrassing heap of bones and skin. Again, they held me up.

  Step by step, we worked our way to the short hallway and out the side door. The scents of outdoors hit me like a drug of giddiness. I squatted and peed a lake, relief washing through me as my bladder drained onto the gravel. I didn’t care that it splashed on my barely bent legs, or that I had actually dribbled a few steps before making it outside. I had awoken thirsty and full of piss. Not to mention feisty enough to rip the tube from my leg. I was feeling more like me.

  This place, reeking of disinfectant and full of fretting animals, may not have been home, but I was warm and dry and fed. I had been hurt, and they were taking care of me.

  Because I was too tired from my brief jaunt to walk back, they carried me to the cage, each supporting one half of my body. After I was laid inside and my water bowl refilled and my food dish heaped with a mixture of dry kibble and canned food, I may have nuzzled the hand of the ponytailed woman. I can’t remember. There were a lot of drugs in my system.

  Still, I wasn’t too proud to show my gratitude.

  Later that morning, they took me out again. This time I was able to bend my legs ever so slightly and support myself long enough to do my business.

  Before returning me to my cage, Ponytail bent down, held my head between her hands, and kissed me on the nose. Her breath smelled like bubble gum. Like Rusty. “Guess what? Your owner is coming to get you tomorrow. She was so happy someone found you.”

  She?

  chapter 24

  The clacking of her bracelets alerted me to her arrival. Bernadette appeared in the doorway, wearing a long flowing blouse with swirly red and yellow flowers. Ponytail and the round helper lady stood just behind her, tears of happiness swimming in their eyes. Bernadette had on the same bright coral lipstick and gobs of eye makeup that she always wore, but there was an underlying sadness in the lines of her face. She pulled a tissue from her purse to dab away the tears threatening to smear her mascara.

  Finally, someone I could trust.

  “Oh, Halo,” she blubbered, her voice choked with emotion, “I thought you were gone, too.”

  Well, I hadn’t left of my own accord.

  A-roo-roo-roo, I said, which meant, ‘I’m glad to see you, too’.

  “Usually, for a dog with injuries this severe,” Ponytail said, “we’d keep her another day or two to monitor her condition, but it’s pretty clear she needs to be in familiar surroundings. She wasn’t too keen on us handling her. Can’t say I blame her. It looks like she’s been through a lot lately.”

  “More than I’d like to admit. I feel so bad. I trusted someone to look after her when ...” Bernadette bunched the tissue in her hands. “Anyway, she ended up getting loose pretty far from home, evidently. How did she wind up here?”

  “She tried to cross the bridge on 275, east of Newport. It was just before dawn. A car hit her. A couple of Good Samaritans brought her in. Luckily for Halo, she didn’t suffer any internal injuries. A few bruised ribs. The leg was broken in multiple places, though. We had to rebuild her hip joint, too. But veterinary science has come a long way in a couple of decades. She’s almost like new. It could have been much worse.”
<
br />   “Poor thing. It looks painful. Will she be okay after it heals?”

  “For the most part, yes. She’ll be able to get around well enough. But she’ll probably always have a limp and some pain in that hip. Arthritis will be a problem for her. Stairs might be a challenge as she gets older. Anything requiring her to run, jump, move quickly — I’d advise against it. Short walks would be best, when she’s ready for it. For now, a ten foot trip out the door to potty is about as far as she can go.”

  I wagged my nub, overjoyed to see a familiar face. If I could have, I would have spun in circles and then jumped into her arms. Instead, I was relegated to being lifted carefully out of my cage and set on the floor in front of her. I wanted so badly to race around like a puppy on a sunshiny day, my heart bursting with happiness, but the dull fog of drugs was giving way to an ache in my left hip that was almost unbearable. It hurt just lying there, let along trying to stand without falling over. So I stood with my back oddly hunched, hoping my legs wouldn’t slide out from under me, gazing up at Bernadette pleadingly.

  “Do you want to go home, Halo?”

  I did, I did, but ... I was beginning to understand now, although I didn’t want to believe it. There was a good reason Bernadette had been the one to come get me. It had been Cecil’s ghost I’d seen in Tucker’s horse trailer.

  In that moment, my heart broke into a million tiny pieces.

  The joy that had seized me when Bernadette first walked in was suddenly replaced by a gaping emptiness. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Bernie — my life, Cecil’s life, they had both changed for the better when she became a part of it. It was that I couldn’t imagine life without Cecil. Who would I rise with in the early morning hours, to sit beneath the table at his feet, before going out to do our chores? Who had been taking care of the sheep in my absence? In his?