Yokche:The Nature of Murder
Page 28
Storm clouds gathered over sweetheart’s little brown face and she opened her mouth to protest when Diane, with the smoothness of long experience, intervened.
“I’m sure you’d take wonderful care of him dear, but Alf is far too young to leave home now. If a puppy is taken from his mother too early it can affect his whole life and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”
Sweetheart’s mouth closed and a frown of fierce concentration covered her little forehead as she digested this information. Long moments passed as we all tensed before the frown disappeared and her face screwed up in an effort to prevent tears. She tore her gaze away from me and shook her head. “No,” she whispered, gaze fixed on the floor, “I wouldn’t.”
A long conversation followed about the expense and terms of care of an Airedale puppy, which is kind of boring, so I won’t tell you here. Suffice it to say my avenging angel and her mother left after that, the little one staring back at me until the door closed behind her. I’ll always remember that little girl. Diane still took me to her workplace but my angel never came again. On those future visits Diane kept a vigilant eye on all the children who wandered near me, so things improved.
In between being poked and petted, my curiosity got the better of me and I ventured out to explore and sniff for messages, trying to figure out what went on there. This workplace interested me. Chairs and shelves and assorted strange looking instruments lined the walls while rows of small high tables stood in the middle. The air held the scent of many dogs and strange odors, harsh, chemical ones which wrinkled my nose and pleasing scents, clean and fresh. The tables had long poles attached with a loop on the end. A mass of hair covered the floor, dog hair, good for snuffling, I wondered about that until one day Diane let me watch as she lifted a poodle onto one of the tables and started giving him a haircut. Did that mean I’d have to have a haircut? Hmm. I would ask mom. Why anyone would want to work shut up in a room all day is beyond me. The human world seems odd to me but I know I need to figure it out. As I said, we’ve lived with human companions since the earliest wolves bargained for food. People need us. It’s a very important career and I love puzzles.
At home during the day I play with my brothers and sisters when they let me, and chase leaves and stuff, a much better way to spend time, but over the last few days Diane has been stuffing me in a small box and making it clear she wanted me to stay there. This game of hers didn’t match my idea of a game but people are weird so I put up with it. The box has soft sides and mesh windows and has just about enough room for me to lie in it. There’s no way to play but Diane looks pleased so I do what she wants, for a while.
About the time Diane started this, some of my brothers and sisters went away and haven’t come back. I’m not too upset about this, it means fewer bruises and more food, but something is happening. Deciding to find out what, and astute as I am, it wasn’t long before I noticed mom was not her usual self. Her gorgeous red hair lay lank and dull and the coarse black saddle hair on her back had lost its usual shine. She lay watching us, an expression of such sadness in her golden eyes that I grew concerned, so I left the play area and ambled over to sit next to her under the shade of a big tree.
“What’s up mom, are you okay?”
Mom watched the rest of the family play as she answered. “You’re all growing so fast, before long you’ll be as big as me.”
“Cool” I said. “I can’t wait.”
Mom sighed. “Alf, there are eleven of you and with all the rest of us here we’re too crowded. Soon you’ll all be gone.”
“Leave?” I asked aghast. “What do you mean, leave?”
“It’s all part of growing up Alf. Just like humans, when we grow up we go out into the world and find another home and another life.”
“Why?”
“There isn’t enough room here for our entire family. Daisy will have puppies soon and there will be nowhere to put them.”
“New puppies are why we have to leave?”
“Everyone has to live their own life Alf. Some of your brothers and sisters have already left for their new homes. I’m sad because they went far away and we will never see them again, but it’s the way it has to be. Diane makes sure you all go to loving families who have good homes and enclosed yards, so you shouldn’t be afraid. You should look forward to a new adventure. Your dad and I expect you to carry the Airedale standard with you and make your new family proud.”
I stopped talking, horrified at this news – to be taken away from my family to a strange place, so soon. I’d barely had my eyes open long enough to explore this place. This was going to be a bad thing, I knew, despite Mom’s assurances. So I said, “But I’ll be lonely without you and what if there aren’t any other pups to play with and how come you guys get to stay here? I don’t want to go.”
Mom explained. “In this matter, we’re the same as a human family. We love you all and don’t want any of you to go and that’s why I’m sad but your dad and I and your uncles and aunts got here the same way.”
My jaw unlocked itself. I had loads of questions and started peppering them at her, but she wouldn’t answer any more and sent me off to play. I trudged away worried and despondent. My life had just been taken from me, turned from happy and joyous to scary and miserable. As I walked away, contemplating this awful news, my head went down in thought and my tail crept between my legs, what there was of it. It’s kind of hard to put half a tail between your legs. I have no memory of the experience but the vet cut half of it off when I was a few days old, so I never missed it. Mom said the Romans were responsible for this barbaric practice; those pesky Romans again, nasty people. They believed cutting off a dog’s tail prevented rabies, can’t imagine why, but one of my brothers told me it was because Airedales hunt small animals down in their burrows and sometimes they got stuck in them, so a shortened tail was a useful handle to haul us out of a sticky situation. Someone else told me there’s even a story about a tax on dogs’ tails. The rich people would leave their dogs’ tails alone because they could afford the tax. The poor people couldn’t and would chop off the tail to avoid payment. Those poor pooches were called curtailed dogs, which got shortened to cur. You learn something every day don’t you? As for those tax collectors, talk about a pound of flesh. What is tax anyway? In any event, one good thing occurred. I got more food and put on more weight each day. Soon I’d be too big for Diane’s box which I now viewed as the evil instrument of my departure. My unhappy musings evaporated when a tiny yellow thing fluttered by and kept flying round my head, a butterfly Diane called it. Entranced I chased after it for ages but it always flew higher than I could reach. I soon forgot about leaving and ran off to continue the hunt.
End of sample
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
P.J. Erickson is the author of two previous novels and a member of the National Writers Association. She is the willing sidekick of her third Airedale, two-year old Jake. In between adventures with him and transcribing Alf’s dictation, she enjoys life in the Sunshine State. She loves chocolate, hates housework and sailing and is driven to write. Want to know more? Check out her interview here.
CONTACT P.J.
Contact P.J. at mailto:pj@embarqmail.com
Follow her on twitter @pjauthor
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Check out Alf’s web page
Like Alf on Facebook at his Alf Airedale page
Author’s Note
P. J. here. I hope you had as much fun reading Yokche as I had writing it. If you loved it, you’ll love Kill Devil. Check out the sample chapter above.
If Yokche wasn’t for you, consider shooting me an Email with the reasons. It is obviously not my intention to leave readers disappointed and I am always happy to hear from you.
In any event, thank you for choosing Yokche for your reading entertainment, and if you’re moved to leave a review where you purchased the book, please know that your effort is greatly appreciated.
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