by Peter Howe
“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” she said, and strode off.
He had no idea how far a mile was, but a thousand of them sounded like a very long way, and he was hoping that New York was a bit closer. He had no time to worry about this, however, because Felicia was already some distance down the railroad tracks and he had to run to catch up with her. The day was fine and the countryside was beautiful. The stream had now broadened into a shallow river that sparkled in the sun. On a couple of occasions when the two of them had to scramble down the bank to let a train pass, Felicia took off her boots, hoisted up her sweatpants, and let her feet dangle in the clean, flowing water. Waggit waded up to his shoulders, enjoying the cold shock of it against his chest. Lazy brown fish drifted against the current but scattered when he got too close. Waggit was a city dog and had hated the country when he was on the farm. He hated the smells, the isolation, and most of all the silence. He missed the comforting hum of traffic and the constant movement of a great metropolis. But here, cooling himself in the river with his new friend close by, he felt quite comfortable.
Toward the end of the afternoon Waggit’s nose started to twitch. He could smell humans, and sure enough, as they rounded a bend in the tracks by a wooded grove they saw a small town in the distance. Felicia decided she would have to go there to get the supplies they needed but that it was too late now and it would be better if they camped in the woods for the night. She found a good spot that was well protected but accessible, and there she pitched the tent.
Immediately after breakfast the next morning Felicia got ready to leave.
“We’re running short of several essentials,” she said, “including food.”
Waggit suddenly felt tense and anxious. Was her trip into the distant town just her way of getting rid of him? No, that couldn’t be because she was leaving her tent and most of her belongings; nevertheless he felt uncomfortable.
“We don’t need food. There’s plenty of food here.” He nodded to the woods and fields that surrounded them. “I’m a pretty good hunter, and I can get us a curlytail or a hopper.”
Felicia smiled. “While I’m sure that curlytails and hoppers taste delicious, whatever they are, I think I would like to stick to the food I’m used to. Besides, we also need other stuff.”
“Okay then,” said Waggit, “let’s get going.”
“I’d be happy for you to accompany me,” she replied, “but I don’t think it would be a good idea. You never know what a town is going to be like until you go there, and to be on the safe side I think it would be better if you stayed here.”
He wasn’t quite sure what she meant by this, but she seemed determined to leave without him. She saw this worried him, so she kneeled down and stroked his head.
“I will be away for a while, but I will return. In the meantime stay close to the tent and don’t worry. I’ll be back in time for lunch.”
Once again her soft voice and serene manner had a calming effect on him, and by the time she disappeared into the distance he was chewing contentedly on a stick. But as she left, so did the feeling of peace that surrounded her. The trees that had seemed soft, gentle, and protective a few minutes earlier now took on a more sinister quality, and he had the sensation of being trapped beneath them. He jumped at a sound behind him, only to see a white-tailed deer more nervous than he was running through the woods.
“I don’t like it here,” he muttered to the stick, having no one else to talk to. “I should have learned my lesson; I never should’ve let an Upright take over my life again. Tazar wouldn’t. What if she’s going to bring the Ruzelas back here? Maybe that’s why she told me to stay by the tent so that I would be much easier to catch.”
Miserable, lonely, and scared, he decided that it would be safer to move away from the camp. Between the edge of the woods and the bank of the river there were some tall rushlike grasses, and he hid in the middle of them. The hours passed slowly, because he did not dare to move. The sun wasn’t strong, but after a while he still began to feel hot. The river was only a few feet away and he decided he would take a drink and cool off, so he left his hiding place and splashed about in the cold water. He began to feel more cheerful, and as his optimism returned, so did his independence.
Why, he thought, am I waiting for an Upright to bring me food? I can look after myself. There’s no point hanging around waiting to see if she returns.
He decided to go hunting. He was a good hunter, fast, with a strong sense of smell, and smart enough to anticipate what moves his quarry would make next. But none of these qualities are of any use if there’s no prey in the vicinity. He tracked back and forth through the woods, his nose working furiously, but the scent trails he picked up were all old. The animals that had left them were probably now resting in the cool of their burrows or out hunting for themselves in the surrounding fields. He saw a chipmunk scamper away, and a squirrel chattered at him in panic from the branch of a tree. Apart from these there was no sign of life.
There was nothing to do but go back to his hiding place, wait for Felicia to return, and hope that she was by herself. After what seemed like days he saw her lanky figure crossing the fields, several packages in her arms. He decided to stay hidden until he was certain that nobody else was with her. It was a good plan that turned out to be completely useless. Instead of going up to the tent, calling out his name, and then looking around for him, Felicia came directly to the edge of the rushes and said, “Waggit, why are you hiding in there? I’m so sorry to have left you, but as it turned out it was just as well you weren’t with me.”
How she knew he was there he had no idea, but it didn’t matter because once again he felt calm and all fear left him. He didn’t even feel awkward leaving his hiding place, by which time she was fussing around the opening of the tent.
“Oh, my goodness,” she said, “those are the most unfriendly people I’ve met in a long time. They didn’t want to sell me anything, even though I had the money. They finally condescended to overcharge me for a few necessary items, including…” She dug into the bottom of one of the brown paper sacks and pulled out a new, bright blue leash. “Ta-da. You’re now respectable.” And he let her clip it onto his collar, even though he wasn’t crazy about it. “They didn’t have a pet shop, of course, but I found it in the hardware store. However, even with your newfound respectability I think we will circumvent their hostility through circumnavigation.”
Waggit frowned and cocked his head in confusion.
“We will avoid any possible confrontation by not going near that settlement again,” she explained. “I did, however, stock up on food supplies.”
This was good news for Waggit, who was feeling famished after his unsuccessful attempt at hunting.
“I got you some cans of real dog food,” she said. “I think people at the store thought I was going to eat it myself.”
For the life of him Waggit couldn’t see why that would be considered strange. He had eaten human food from time to time, so why would humans eating dog food be any more unusual?
When they had both finished eating and Felicia had cleared away all the utensils, she sat down on the trunk of a fallen pine tree, broke off a long stalk of grass, and chewed it contemplatively. Waggit had noticed that this was a habit of hers whenever she was concentrating. She then unfolded a map that she had purchased that morning and studied it carefully.
“I really do think,” she said after several minutes, “that it would be better if we bypass this town, and that we should do it at night. Unfortunately, whether we take the tracks or the roadway, they both go through its outskirts. We will just have to keep a very low profile and hope that nobody pays us any attention.”
They left when it got dark. Although she had a flashlight in her backpack Felicia thought it was wiser not to use it while they were in open countryside, and so their progress was slow. When they got to the town they tried to keep to its edges, but because it was small avoiding the center was difficult. Th
ey rounded a corner, and there in front of them was a single story building with a big illuminated sign and brightly colored lights in the windows. Loud music came from inside, and parked in front were several cars and pickup trucks.
“Oh dear,” said Felicia, “a bar. People in bars usually go one of two ways. They either get very jolly and silly or mean and belligerent. Let’s see if we can find another way around it.”
They turned back in the direction they came, and after a few blocks found a road that looked as if it would go around the edge of the town and still keep them on their route. They had gone just a short distance when Waggit suddenly stopped. His ears were pricked, and he turned his head back toward the bar. Over the sound of the music came the yelping of a dog that was obviously in pain and distress.
“Can you hear that?” Waggit asked.
“No,” replied Felicia. “What is it?”
“There’s a dog in trouble,” said Waggit. “We have to go back.”
6
The Rescue of the Cowardly Pit Bull
Cautiously they crept along the side of the bar until they came to an alleyway that was at the rear of the building. Here they saw three men throwing rocks at a sturdy pit bull they had trapped between a wall and one of the bar’s Dumpsters. The dog cowered in terror and yelped as each rock hit him. Already there were some places where he was cut and blood was starting to ooze. Felicia drew herself to her full height, which was considerable, and stepped into the alley.
“Let’s stop that right now,” she demanded in a voice that was calm but authoritative.
The men looked around in surprise.
“Why don’t you just move on and mind your own business?” one of them said.
“When innocent animals are being needlessly hurt, it is my business,” replied Felicia. “It’s everybody’s business.”
“Listen, you old hag, take that flea-bitten mutt of yours and get out of here now before we give you some of the same,” yelled the man.
However, Felicia’s calming influence seemed to be having some effect on the other two.
“We didn’t mean to hurt it,” said one of them, which was difficult to believe since he was holding a rock in both hands.
“We were scared of it,” added the third, letting his rock drop to the ground as if trying to get rid of the evidence. “We thought it was going to attack us.”
The sad creature huddled against the Dumpster didn’t look as if it was able to attack a chipmunk, let alone three grown men.
“It’s a pit bull,” insisted the first man, who was clearly the leader, “and pit bulls are vicious—everyone knows that.”
“No,” said one of the others, “the lady’s right. We shouldn’t’ve been doing that. It weren’t hurting us none.”
“You see, ma’am,” the third addressed Felicia, “we had a little too much to drink.”
“You speak for yourself, Jimmy, you wimp,” said the leader. “I’m stone-cold sober, and I don’t want no pit bulls ’round this neighborhood, and no homeless people neither,” he continued, looking at Felicia.
He picked up another rock and hurled it at the pit bull. The dog was frozen with terror and made no attempt to avoid being hit. It struck him hard on his back leg, and he let out another squeal of pain but still did not move. The rock thrower picked up another stone and prepared to aim it at the prostrate creature when Waggit suddenly ran toward him and delivered a sharp nip to the back of his ankle. Now it was the man’s turn to howl, which he did as he hopped up and down on one foot while holding on to the other. Waggit took advantage of the man’s unbalanced state by throwing his full weight at the back of his knee and bringing him crashing to the ground. Felicia, in the meantime, had taken hold of the pit bull by his collar and was dragging him away from the corner where he had been trapped.
The man was a good deal drunker than he had claimed and was finding it extremely difficult to get back on his feet. His friends had already fled, fearing that the commotion would attract unwanted attention. When the man finally managed to prop himself up on his arms, Waggit darted in and nipped his wrist, causing him to go down again. He lay on the pavement looking up at Felicia and the two dogs, hatred and anger burning in his eyes.
“I’ll get you. I’ll get all of you,” he yelled. “I’m going to get my gun and my friends and don’t think I won’t.”
“Boys,” Felicia said to the two dogs, “we’d better get out of here as quickly as possible, because I think I believe him.”
The three of them ran as fast as their legs would take them, which in Felicia’s and Waggit’s case was pretty fast. They took the darkest and quietest streets until they finally came out on the far side of the town. As they left the buildings behind they moved into rolling, open countryside, with narrow lanes and large fields surrounded by stone walls, inside which cows stood or lay. They could just make out a ridge of mountains silhouetted on the horizon. They paused to catch their breath. The pit bull was in some pain and was making sure everyone knew it.
“Ouch. Ow. I can’t go on. It hurts.”
As Felicia bent down to give the injuries a closer inspection, Waggit’s ears pricked and his hackles went up.
“I can hear something coming this way,” he warned.
Felicia stood to her full height and saw headlights in the distance.
“It’s probably that awful man and some of his drunken pals,” she said.
She looked around for somewhere to hide, but she could see none—no bushes or stands of trees or even any farm buildings that would afford them cover.
“Well,” she said, looking at the herd of cows nearest them, “there’s nothing to do but beg a favor from our cloven-hoofed friends.”
Apart from the stone wall there was also a wire fence running around the perimeter of the field, and it pinged quietly, indicating that it was electrified. Despite Felicia’s warnings, the pit bull managed to get zapped twice while scrambling through, even though Waggit made it with ease. When all three of them were in the field they approached the cows tentatively, Felicia leading the way. She went up to the nearest one, which chewed contemplatively. The animal had an unusually large set of horns for a female, and Waggit eyed them with concern.
“Good evening,” Felicia began. “I wonder if you would do my two friends and me a favor. Some very bad men are pursuing us, and there are no hiding places in the vicinity. Would you and the other ladies mind if we sort of crouched down among you? We would be very quiet and still and cause no trouble, I assure you. Would that be okay?”
The cow looked at her with a baleful eye and said, “Moooooo.”
“Oh dear,” said Felicia, turning to the dogs. “I seem to have forgotten all my cow communication skills. One needs them so infrequently, and if you don’t use them you certainly do lose them.”
The cow still hadn’t moved, so Waggit went as close to her as he dared, given the size of her horns, and growled in what he hoped was a menacing manner. It clearly wasn’t very frightening because she just looked down at him disdainfully, but then slowly and unhurriedly she walked out of the way, allowing them access to the middle of the herd.
“Well, that works for me,” said Felicia. “Come, boys, let’s mingle quietly.”
She got on all fours and crawled in between the cows. For a moment Waggit thought she might even start nibbling the grass as well, but she did not. He and the pit bull moved into the center also, although the latter seemed very jumpy, and not too happy with the arrangement. The three of them crouched down making sure that they each had a sleeping cow between them and the road. They had just gotten into this position when they heard the sound of a truck approaching. The dogs held their breath as the light from the headlights swept over the field, but the cows didn’t move and the vehicle drove on without seeing them.
They remained in their positions for several minutes until it was obvious that their pursuers were not coming back. Then Felicia got up and turned to the herd.
“Thank you so much. You
r help has been invaluable,” she said.
The cows either didn’t understand what she said or didn’t care, for none of them paid her the slightest attention. Waggit looked around to see in which direction they should go. In the far corner of the field he could just see in the darkness the outline of some sort of building. The three of them hurried toward it. As they got closer they saw that it was a dilapidated, crude shelter, but still sufficient to provide them with some protection for the rest of the night.
The floor of the building was covered with old, damp hay that smelled sour, but which made it a little softer to lie on. Felicia took off her backpack and sat down on it. Waggit lay next to her, but the pit bull paced nervously back and forth at the hut’s entrance.
“Relax,” said Waggit, “they won’t find us here.”
“Yeah?” said the pit bull. “It’s all very well for you to say ‘Relax,’ but you weren’t the one they were throwing rocks at.”
This was certainly true and seemed a valid point.
“What’s your name?” Waggit asked, trying a different tactic to get the dog to calm down.
“Lug,” replied the pit bull, clearly in no mood to engage in conversation.
“Mine’s Waggit,” said Waggit, “and this is Felicia.”
“Very pleased to meet you, even under these circumstances,” Felicia said warmly. “Now I think we’d better take a look at what those dreadful men did to you.” She went over to him and gently ran her hands over his body, inspecting the places where the rocks had done their damage. Then she got a first-aid kit from her backpack, squeezed some ointment out of a tube, and rubbed it into the places where the dog’s skin had been broken. He made more fuss when she did this than when the men pelted him with the rocks that had made the wounds in the first place.