‘I hope you’re not planning to sleep there,’ she said haughtily.
He looked up at her in surprise. ‘Why not?’
‘You’re too close,’ she protested. ‘You’re invading my personal space. And you’re blocking the heat from the fire. Back off.’
Ralph got up and moved to another spot, but even before he could settle himself again, Manfred said, ‘Do you mind? You’re right on top of me. Find somewhere else!’ Ralph tried moving around the room for a few minutes, but every time he seized on a spot, one or other of the Dobermans found some reason why he was not welcome there. He looked helplessly at Farmer Morton.
‘Are you going to let them treat me like this?’ he asked.
Farmer Morton lifted his head from his paper and gave him a questioning look. ‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked. ‘They have as much right to be here as you do.’
At this, Agnes made a strange sound, a kind of grunt of exasperation.
‘Something wrong, my dear?’ asked Farmer Morton and after a few moments she shrugged and shook her head. ‘No, dear,’ she said, meekly.
‘Good.’ Farmer Morton looked at Ralph. ‘Fight your own battles, Ralph,’ he said. ‘And stop stirring things up.’
Ralph felt betrayed. He looked at Kurt. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Since you seem to be the leader . . .’
‘The leader?’ Kurt looked around at the others as though this was news to him. ‘There’s no leader, Ralph, we’re all in this together. We are the animals of Morton Farm. We are brothers and sisters. Nothing more.’
‘Well, whatever you like to call yourself . . . perhaps you would care to tell me where I might be allowed to lay myself down for the night?’
Kurt considered for the moment. ‘There’s plenty of room in the old barn,’ he said.
‘Yes,’ said Brigit. ‘We’ve just moved out of there. It’s really not so bad. There’s lots of warm straw to snuggle into.’
‘You’ll be snug as a bug,’ said Fritz.
‘I see.’ Ralph looked from Doberman to Doberman and saw no trace of kindness in any one of them. They were watching him, almost as though they wanted him to protest. That would give them the excuse they needed.
‘Good night then,’ said Ralph. And he turned and walked to the door. He sat beside it, patiently, until Farmer Morton glanced up from his newspaper. ‘Could you let me out, please?’ asked Ralph.
Farmer Morton got up from his chair and walked across to the door. He held it open and glanced down at Ralph. For an instant, Ralph thought he saw a trace of regret on the farmer’s ruddy face. ‘It’s just change,’ said Farmer Morton quietly. ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’
Ralph didn’t say anything. He walked out into the darkness and felt the chill wind biting into his fur. He headed towards the barn. On the way, he passed the empty shell of Fred’s kennel and for a moment, thought about slinking in there for the night. No, he told himself, he had not fallen that far. Not yet, anyway.
Instead, he slipped into the old barn and found himself a spot in the darkest corner where he burrowed deep into the straw and lay with just his nose poking out.
A short while later, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching the barn and a torch shone into the gloomy interior. He saw that it was Agnes and she was carrying a bowl of food.
‘Ralph?’ she called.
‘Here,’ he said quietly and she brought the bowl across and set it down in front of him.
‘I brought you some supper,’ she said. She looked at him bundled up in the straw. ‘Are you all right in here?’ she asked him.
‘Yes, thank you,’ he said.
‘You mustn’t blame Arthur,’ she said, meaning Farmer Morton. ‘He’s just so obsessed with those damned Dobermans. I told him I didn’t want them in the house, but he just ignored me. Eight of them, it’s ridiculous! There’s barely room to move as it is. I didn’t realise that it would mean you being turned out, though.’ She reached out a hand and stroked Ralph’s head fondly. ‘I’ve kind of got used to you lying there beside the stove. But Arthur says there are to be big changes at the farm and this is just the start.’
‘That’s all right,’ Ralph assured her although, in truth, he felt like howling. How could Farmer Morton have treated him like this after he had worked so hard? Just then he remembered Fred who had worked hard all his life and what had he received at the end of it? A shot from Farmer Morton’s gun.
‘Those dogs are so powerful,’ said Agnes. ‘And Kurt . . . Arthur seems to listen to every word he says. He says that Kurt is very special and that the Dobermans are going to change the farm for the better. But there are eight of them. I keep wondering . . . what would happen if they ever got it into their heads to attack us? ‘
Ralph didn’t have an answer for that. He just lay there enjoying the soft touch of her hand upon his head. For some reason, he thought about his mother, who was now just a vague memory to him. He wondered what had ever become of her.
After a while Agnes gave him a last pat and left the barn, the pool of light from her torch bobbing in front of her. Then she was gone and he was left alone in the silent barn that had once been the domain of the Dobermans but now belonged to nobody but him.
Chapter Twelve
New Blood
Over the next few days several strange trucks arrived at the farm and workmen in overalls unpacked toolboxes and materials and began to build. Farmer Morton strode around the place holding a set of plans and directing the strangers but Ralph noticed that wherever he went, Kurt always walked alongside him as if he too were overseeing the operation.
It soon became clear that building work was happening in two different places. One gang of workers were making changes to the chicken run. As far as Ralph could tell, they were extending it and he was glad about that, because it seemed to him, that if the chickens had to be kept locked away from all the other animals, at least it wouldn’t be quite so bad for them if they had a bit more space to move around.
A second, larger group of men began work on a stretch of empty ground beyond the old barn and it was evident that this was a much more involved job; the men had bought earth-moving machinery with them and seemed to be digging up the ground in order to lay down a whole series of pipes and concrete blocks
‘What on earth are they doing?’ Ralph asked Jonah, on one of the goat’s rare visits up to the farmyard.
‘They’re digging foundations,’ said Jonah, knowingly. ‘I’ve seen this kind of thing before. It means they’re going to put up a new building beside the barn.’
‘But what kind of building? Do you think Farmer Morton is planning on having other kinds of animals?’
Jonah shook his head. ‘I’m hoping for a goat shelter, but I’m not holding me breath,’ he said. ‘With our luck it will turn out to be a Doberman sanctuary.’
That was a chilling thought. It was bad enough having eight of the creatures hanging around. Ralph resolved to ask Farmer Morton about it at his first opportunity, but when he did, all he got were evasive answers. Kurt, however, was much more forthcoming. One day, while Ralph was watching the men at work, Kurt wandered over and surveyed the scene with evident pride.
‘What do you think?’ he asked Ralph.
‘I don’t know what to think,’ Ralph told him. ‘Jonah says they are putting up some kind of a building, but I can’t imagine what it will be for.’
‘It’s my idea,’ said Kurt. ‘I have shown Farmer Morton a way he can increase his profits and he was very pleased to let me take control of the project.’
Ralph snorted. ‘It’s a wonder he didn’t let you and the other Dobermans do the actual building work.’ he said.
‘Don’t be sarcastic,’ Kurt warned him. ‘You know perfectly well that since nature has equipped us with paws rather than hands, we could not hope to carry out such a task. But that doesn’t stop me creating the plans in my head and passing on the information to others. Let me tell you, Ralph, that there are many changes coming to this farm and
this is only the beginning.’
Ralph remembered what Agnes had told him; how Farmer Morton had said the very same thing. Clearly he had only been repeating something that Kurt had said in the first place. ‘Yes, but you haven’t said what the building is actually for,’ Ralph reminded him.
‘I could try and explain it to you,’ said Kurt. ‘But with your rather limited intelligence, I doubt that you would fully comprehend. Try to think of it as a surprise,’ he concluded. And with that he strolled haughtily away with his nose in the air.
Ralph could only begin to guess at what changes Kurt was referring to, but the first of them occurred only a few days later. One morning, after they had dealt with the sheep, Farmer Morton climbed into his old truck and drove away. Ralph noticed that in his absence, Kurt and the other Dobermans seemed to be in a state of high excitement and when they heard the sound of the truck returning a few hours later, they all hurried outside to greet it.
Ralph went too, keeping a safe distance between himself and the other dogs, because he knew that wandering too close could easily earn him a nip. The truck came to a halt in the yard and Ralph saw that several large cardboard boxes had been loaded onto the back of it. Farmer Morton climbed out of the truck and Kurt hurried forward to speak to him.
‘How did it go?’ he asked eagerly.
‘Fine,’ Farmer Morton assured him.
‘And you checked each one of them carefully?’
‘Oh, yes. Don’t worry. I’ve been through the paperwork. They are all one hundred percent pure blood thoroughbreds. Cost me a small fortune, they did.’ And with that, Farmer Morton lifted down the first box and opened it. A sleek black head popped into view. Ralph gasped in amazement. It was a Doberman puppy, perhaps some ten weeks old. Farmer Morton lifted the creature out and it stood there on its spindly legs, wagging its tail and gazing uncertainly up at the adult dogs surrounding it. Kurt moved forward and sniffed at the puppy for a moment; he seemed pleased.
‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Unpack the others.’
Farmer Morton gave him a sharp look then, because it had sounded more like an order than a suggestion.
‘Please,’ added Kurt, in a softer tone.
Farmer Morton shrugged and did as he was asked. One by one, he unpacked another six puppies, each of them as sleek and black as the last. Ralph could hardly believe it. The creatures looked meek and adorable at the moment, but he knew better than anyone how quickly they would grow and how aggressive they might be when they were older. How could Farmer Morton hope to feed so many dogs, dogs that didn’t really do a stroke of work around the farm? It didn’t make sense.
Now Agnes came out of the house and stood looking down at the puppies, her hands on her hips.
‘I can’t believe you’ve bought more of them!’ she exclaimed. ‘What are we going to do with them all?’
‘You won’t have to do anything with them,’ Kurt assured her. ‘My brothers and sisters have pledged to look after all their needs.’
‘Hmmph! And I suppose they’ll be mixing up the formula milk to feed them, will they?’
‘I’ll take care of that,’ Farmer Morton assured her, but she didn’t look convinced.
‘I was referring to the pup’s general upbringing,’ explained Kurt. ‘We will take full responsibility for that. We will be instructing them in the ways of the Doberman brotherhood.’ He glanced at Ralph. ‘And I’m sure Ralph here will be more than willing to lend us a hand,’ he said. ‘After all, they will be staying in the old barn with him.’
This was not great news as far as Ralph was concerned, who had prior experience of just how easily young Dobermans could land themselves in trouble, but he knew better than to raise an objection.
Kurt looked around at his siblings. ‘Each of you will choose one puppy to raise,’ he said. ‘You will ensure that they are taught everything they need to know to put them on the right path.’
‘Aren’t you going to raise a puppy?’ asked Ralph and Kurt shook his head.
‘I’m afraid I have too much to organise,’ he said. ‘But of course, each of these little creatures will answer to me when they are grown.’
Ralph couldn’t help feeling that what Kurt was doing now was raising his own little army. And not for the first time, he wondered how Farmer Morton could have been so stupid as to allow Kurt to have his way on this matter. But there was clearly no more to be said. Agnes turned away and strode back to the house. She looked furious and was no doubt thinking about the hours she would soon be spending mixing up special formula milk for the pups. There was little chance that Farmer Morton would keep his word about taking care of that job. Meanwhile, Kurt’s brothers and sisters came forward one by one, selected a puppy and instructed it to go with them into the old barn. Farmer Morton strolled back to the house now, leaving Kurt and Ralph alone in the yard.
‘What are you up to?’ Ralph asked him at last.
‘What do you mean, “what am I up to?” I’m not up to anything.’
‘Of course you are,’ said Ralph. ‘All those puppies! There’s already eight of you, why would you want to bring in more?’
Kurt gave Ralph a world-weary look. ‘I can’t expect you to understand,’ he said. ‘After all, you are just a mongrel. But we Dobermans have a responsibility to the future. These new pups will be the standard-bearers for our race. Taught correctly, they will take our ideas forward to future generations. And of course, they are all pure bloods. They will ensure that our race is not compromised. There will be no inter-breeding with dogs of inferior quality.’
‘I can’t help feeling you’re getting a bit above yourself,’ said Ralph. ‘After all, at the end of the day, you’re just dogs, the same as the rest of us. All these fancy ideas you have can’t change that.’
Kurt gave Ralph a threatening look. ‘Be careful what you say, Ralph,’ he warned. ‘The help you gave me when I was a pup earns you a certain amount of latitude, but don’t push it. You must understand that we Dobermans are not like other dogs at all. We have the stuff of greatness within us and you would do well to remember that.’
‘How could I forget?’ muttered Ralph, ‘since you take every opportunity to remind me about it. But where does it all end, Kurt?’
‘In the fullness of time, you will see,’ Kurt assured him, mysteriously. And with that, he walked away.
Chapter Thirteen
Captives
The next few weeks were difficult, to say the very least. The building work continued without a break. The work on the chicken run was finished quickly enough and the wire fence between the old hen run and the new enclosure was taken down, so that Henrietta and the other chickens suddenly had much more room to move about in. But this was rather short-lived.
Only a few days later, a whole series of trucks arrived and men began to unload crate after crate of new chickens. These were released into the larger enclosure, until every spare inch was occupied. Now there were literally thousands of chickens milling about in there. The newcomers were young birds, scrawny little things, but plenty of food was put out for them and they quickly began to fatten up.
Meanwhile, over beyond the old barn, the new building began to rear itself upwards; a huge galvanised iron shed from the roof of which a stainless steel chimney jutted high into the air. Once the exterior was finished, yet more trucks arrived, carrying huge pieces of machinery and the workmen began to move these inside the building. From within came the clamour of hammers and rivet guns and the high-pitched whine of electric drills.
Ralph tried to find time to talk to Henrietta every day, but it was clear that she was very worried about the various changes that were occurring. It became harder and harder to locate her amidst the awful crush of chickens within the enclosure.
‘I don’t understand any of this,’ she told Ralph one afternoon when he had finally sought her out from amongst the others. There were now so many chickens around her that she was literally pressed against the high wire fence. ‘All these new creatures, it d
oesn’t make sense! Why has Farmer Morton brought them all here?’
‘Perhaps he’s decided to sell more eggs,’ suggested Ralph hopelessly, but Henrietta shook her head.
‘There isn’t room to sit down and lay one,’ she complained. ‘And these newcomers are too young to even know how to go about it. I cannot understand what he must be thinking.’ She peered through the wire towards the new metal building, which looked dark and ominous against the skyline. ‘And what’s that in aid of? It doesn’t look like anything you’d expect to find on a farm. I don’t mind telling you, my dear, that I’m beginning to be a little bit afraid of all this.’
‘Afraid? Oh, I’m sure there’s no reason to be afraid,’ Ralph told her, but in his heart of hearts he knew exactly how she felt and had to admit that the changes that were occurring on Morton’s Farm scared him too, because he really had no idea where it would all end.
Meanwhile the Dobermans were taking their new responsibilities very seriously. Ralph would overhear them talking to the pups in the barn and it seemed to him that they were being trained up in a very peculiar way. On one occasion, he saw that a series of straw-filled sacks had been set up in a corner of the barn and the pups were being encouraged to attack them, tearing at the hessian fabric with their sharp little teeth. On another occasion, he overheard Fritz talking to the pups who were sitting around him listening intently.
‘You should all be proud,’ he said to them, ‘for you are members of a very special race. We Dobermans are the finest creatures on this planet. We are all pure blood animals and we must each of us keep to our own. No Doberman must ever be seen to be too friendly to ordinary dogs.’ Fritz said this last word as though it were some kind of curse. ‘We must keep our blood pure and always remember wherever you go, that no other creature on this planet can equal us for strength and intelligence. We are the chosen ones.’
Animal Factory Page 7