Waggit Again

by Peter Howe

“I’m too young, for one thing,” Waggit said.

  “Do me a favor,” said Lowdown. “The next time you’re by the Bigwater take a look at your reflection. Like the rest of us, my friend, you’re getting older by the minute. You ain’t as young as you seem to think you are.”

  “But I’ve never done any leading,” protested Waggit. “I wouldn’t know how.”

  “Yes, you have,” said Lowdown. “For one thing you led Lug here.”

  “Yes,” said Waggit, “to his death.”

  “That’s beside the point,” said Lowdown. “The fact of the matter is that he followed you here, and he looked up to you and respected you, as do the rest of the team, I might add. Besides which Tazar would expect you to take over if anything happened to him. Why do you think he was so glad to see you back? It wasn’t ’cause you’re so pretty, ’cause you ain’t. Nah, I’ve got a suspicion that deep in the back of his mind he had an inkling all along that Olang wasn’t up to it. That’s why you turning up was perfect timing. You was his fallback.”

  “Well!” was all Waggit could think to say, and he sat down and scratched behind his left ear with his back leg, a sure sign that he was thinking deeply about something. He had honestly never thought of himself leading the team, and although the idea of it filled him with pride, it was also very scary. He barely felt capable of looking after himself, never mind all of his friends. He was mulling over these new ideas when there was a sudden crashing sound and the present leader came barreling through the woods. He had clearly recovered from his recent doldrums and was once again very much in charge.

  “Waggit, I need you. Come with me,” he commanded.

  Waggit, relieved to resume following rather than leading, was quickly on his feet and pursuing Tazar’s plumed black tail, which was once again firmly held high.

  26

  Puppies in Distress

  Waggit chased Tazar through brush and woods, across open paths and over rocks that jutted out high over the road running inside the park that the dogs called the rollerway. For a dog who thought he was too old to lead the team, Tazar was almost too fast and agile for Waggit to keep up with him. He finally stopped next to an ancient, grizzled dog who Waggit recognized as a loner living in this part of the Deepwoods. The dogs had stopped at a vantage point from which they could see the road beneath them and a crowd of humans gathered around three cars. It seemed that the rear two had smashed into the front one when it pulled up sharply. A group of humans was clustered around the front car, and some kind of a commotion was going on. The loner nodded to Tazar.

  “She ran straight out in front of the roller,” he said, as if answering an unasked question.

  “Is she dead?” asked Tazar.

  “She ain’t,” said the old loner, “but she might as well be. They’ve catched her and they’ll never let her go now, ’specially as they’ve bust their precious rollers. What’s even worse is she’s got two youngsters, that was born only a few risings ago.”

  “Are they down there?” asked Tazar.

  “Nah, she’s got a spot on the other side of Farpoint Hill. They’re probably over there, but they’re real young. Without her they’re as good as dead already,” he said glumly.

  “You loners are so pessimistic,” cried Tazar. “Those puppies may be in a bad situation, but they’re not dead yet and won’t be if I can help it.”

  So with the scent of adventure in his nostrils Tazar led Waggit toward the area that the dogs called Farpoint Hill. This was in the far northeastern section of the park and was favored by loners because few humans ever climbed its slopes, and yet it was close to the garbage cans lining the sidewalk at the edge of the park. These provided a reliable source of food, even if their contents were often somewhat strange.

  The two dogs had a general idea as to where the pups were likely to be. When they got to the area, however, it was clear why humans didn’t visit this part of the park much. The sides of the hill were quite steep and heavily covered in brush and trees. The few paths that wound around were overgrown or blocked by fallen branches. It was certainly a good spot to hide a young family from predators, both human and animal. Waggit and Tazar split up, each taking a section, and as methodically as possible began to search for the orphaned puppies.

  Because the hill provided sanctuary to many animals, not just to dogs, Waggit found it difficult to get a scent of the two they were looking for. The area was home to raccoons, squirrels, skunks, mice, rats, and any number of other creatures, each of which had its own smell, and each of which confused Waggit’s sensitive nose. In the end it wasn’t his nose that found the puppies but Tazar’s ears. He picked up the faint sound of crying, almost like the mewling of a kitten. The sound finally led him to a cluster of tree roots where two tiny puppies lay. One was quieter than the other, who appeared to be much stronger. Very gently Waggit and Tazar each lifted one up, holding them in their mouths and clamping their teeth on the loose skin at the back of the puppies’ tiny necks. They then started back in the direction of the pipe, moving carefully through the thick foliage. Both puppies squealed as they were carried along, the louder one wriggling so hard that Tazar found it difficult to keep her firmly in his mouth without hurting her.

  When they got to the foot of the hill they had to hide for several minutes, waiting for a moment when their route was free of both pedestrians and cars. They finally cleared the road and made their way back up the rocks and across the woods to the pipe.

  The first dog to greet them when they arrived was Magica. Of the three females on the team, she was the only one who showed any maternal instincts. Alicia’s attitude about puppies was that they were noisy, messy, and, even worse, took attention away from her. While Alona enjoyed the company of young dogs, and had played extensively with Little One and Little Two when they were small, she lacked the self-confidence to take charge of them in the way that was completely natural for Magica.

  “Oh my, oh my,” Magica said, “those poor young things. Where did they come from?”

  Tazar and Waggit gently put the two babies down on the ground, where they walked awkwardly around, bumping into each other and making little crying sounds.

  “They belong to a loner,” said Tazar, “who was involved in some nonsense with three rollers near Farpoint Hill, and she got captured by the Uprights. So we rescued them.”

  “Bless you for that,” said Magica at the same time that Alicia said, “Whadja bring ’em back here for? We can’t do anything for ’em. They’re way too young.”

  The sad fact of the matter was that Alicia was right, as they found out when they tried to feed the puppies some food that Magica had chewed until it was as soft as she could make it. They were simply too tiny to be able to consume it. The best the dogs could do was to get them to drink a little water by taking a mouthful themselves and then dripping it into their open mouths. But clearly this was only going to keep them alive for so long.

  “They need milk,” said Magica.

  “Well, we don’t have any,” said Tazar, “and where in the park we’d get some I don’t know.”

  “Felicia would know if she was here,” said Waggit.

  “Well, she’s not,” Tazar responded sharply, “so that doesn’t help.”

  “There might be some at the feeder,” said Gordo. “They have it there in little boxes. I know ’cause one of the Uprights what works there threw one at me one time when I was trying to get some food, and it burst and went all over me. It was white stuff, so I think it was milk.”

  “It’s worth a try,” said Tazar, “but it’s best if we wait till dark when they put out all the stuff they don’t want.”

  The Upright feeder was a restaurant in the park that had once been part of Tashi’s realm. Since his team’s capture it had become the province of all of the dogs in the park and was a constant and reliable source of food, most of it too spoiled to be served to customers but perfectly acceptable to a hungry animal.

  Cal, Raz, Tazar, and Waggit set out as soon as dar
kness fell and made their way slowly and carefully down to the place by the lake where the restaurant was located. Tazar said that Cal should be the one to make the snatch if the opportunity presented itself. He wasn’t quite as fast as Waggit, but he was fast enough, and he had the added advantage of a dark coat that would be less noticeable at night.

  After an uneventful journey they arrived at their destination and hid in some bushes that gave them a clear view of the back door that led straight into the kitchens. It was still too early in the evening for the waste to be thrown into the Dumpsters, so they settled down to wait. They watched the comings and goings of the taxis and black limousines as well as the horse-drawn carriages that worked in this part of the park. After an hour or two the doors to the kitchen opened and a man in a stained white apron came out, staggering under the weight of a large black plastic bag that he threw into one of several Dumpsters near the door. He went back in, and shortly afterward came out with a blue plastic crate that was half filled with several tall cardboard boxes. He placed the crate on the ground beside a Dumpster.

  “That’s them,” said Raz. “Them’s the boxes what Gordo was talking about.”

  They waited to see what the man would do next. He didn’t go back into the kitchen but sat down and lit a cigarette. The dogs thought it mystifying that humans sometimes put white sticks in their mouths and then set them on fire, but so much of what Uprights did was puzzling that they didn’t try to work it out. It wasn’t his smoking that bothered them, however, as much as the fact that he remained outside and close to the crate containing their prize.

  “Let’s wait and see if he moves,” said Tazar. “He can’t stay there all night.”

  The man puffed on his cigarette in a leisurely manner, stretched, yawned, looked around, and appeared to be perfectly happy, with no desire to return to work at all. After several minutes had passed without any indication that the man was about to go back inside, Cal began to get restless.

  “You see that box what’s by itself?” he said. “I think I could snatch it quick enough that he couldn’t get me. It’s worth a try.”

  The other dogs had noticed that one of the cartons was away from the others in a corner of the crate, and that the corner was the closest to the dogs and the farthest from the man.

  “It’s not worth the risk,” said Tazar. “Let’s wait a little longer.”

  “Nah, I think I can do it,” said Cal, but before he could sprint off fate took control.

  “Hold it,” hissed Tazar. “Look!”

  Making their way through the bushes that edged the restaurant the Tazarians could see another group of dogs. As they broke cover they became identifiable.

  “It’s Tashi’s team,” said Raz. “I mean—Olang’s team.”

  Waggit saw Tazar flinch at the mention of Olang’s name. Now that they were in open ground the motley group of animals that made up the Olangsters spread out and moved toward the Dumpsters. Olang himself was not among the front-line troops but standing back on a nearby hill watching the action. They made no attempt to conceal themselves but crept forward low to the ground, their fangs bared, ready to attack. When the restaurant worker saw them advancing toward him he threw away his cigarette and fled back into the building.

  At this point the dogs started to rip open the black plastic bags of garbage. Before they could make off with any of the contents the man returned with another, both armed with brooms. They yelled at the dogs, swinging at them with their improvised weapons. Immediately the Olangsters turned tail and fled back in the direction they had come, much to Olang’s fury as he barked orders to them that were completely ignored. Emboldened by their success the two men pursued the fleeing animals into the woods.

  “Go now,” Tazar yelled at Cal, who needed no further persuasion.

  At full speed he raced toward the crate and clamped his jaw around the single carton. He pulled, but it would not budge, and so he shook it fiercely, as he would have done with any other prey. This released it, and just in time, for the two men were now returning, brooms at the ready.

  “There’s another one,” one of them cried.

  “Let’s get him,” said the other, and they started running in Cal’s direction. But the dog now had his prize and was on his way back to his waiting comrades. There wasn’t a human being alive that could outrun Cal, and certainly not these two, whose years of employment in the restaurant business were reflected in their waistlines. The best they could do was stand puffing heavily and shaking their brooms at Cal’s departing figure.

  “Well done,” Tazar congratulated Cal upon his return. “Now let’s get it to the youngsters.”

  The four of them started the journey back to the pipe. When they got there they found Magica pacing up and down, a worried look on her face.

  “Oh, thank goodness you got it,” she said when she saw the carton. “These two have been crying the whole time you were away.”

  Indeed they could all hear the pathetic sound of whimpering coming from the hungry puppies, but when they attempted to open the carton, none of them knew how to do it. Waggit tried holding it in between his front paws and pulling on the top with his teeth, but all that achieved was a waxy taste in his mouth. Little One and Little Two took a corner each and pulled in opposite directions, and while that was great fun, it had little effect on the sealed top. Then Gordo stepped forward with the authority of one who had never been beaten by food packaging.

  “Here, let me have a go,” he said in a tone of voice indicating that it was time to get serious. He then pulled back his lip, and using his huge, curved canine punched a hole on one side of the carton top.

  “Good going, Gordo,” said Tazar.

  “No, wait,” said Gordo, “you need another hole on the other side, otherwise nothing’ll come out.”

  He then repeated the process, but made a face as he tasted the contents.

  “Yuck,” he spluttered, “it’s awful.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Magica. “It’ll taste great to the kids.”

  Unfortunately she was soon proven wrong. She took the carton in her mouth and went over to the weaker of the two. Both puppies had their mouths open, desperate for food, and she tilted it toward the tiny creatures. Nothing happened. There was no flow of white liquid that would nourish and sustain them. She shook the carton with her head, and after the third or fourth shake out came a large, congealed glob. The milk was sour.

  27

  Waggit Makes Amends

  Nobody slept well that night, what with the puppies mewling as their hunger got worse, and Magica fussing around them, distressed by their distress. The situation wasn’t helped by Alicia and Gruff complaining that they couldn’t get a wink of sleep and thereby preventing anyone else from doing so. All in all, the pipe was not a restful place, and Waggit was glad when dawn finally came and he could leave its confines. He wandered over to Lowdown’s tree to find the old fellow painfully stretching in front of it.

  “Oooh,” he complained, “this gets harder and harder every day. I sometimes wonder why I bother to get up.”

  “Well,” said Waggit, “I wonder why I bothered to go to bed last night.”

  He explained what the night had been like, and his worry about the puppies, who at this moment were only existing on whatever water could be dripped into their mouths. The older dog lay down, scratched behind his ears, and sighed.

  “You know,” he said, “Tazar don’t want to hear this, but there’s times when only an Upright can solve a situation, and this is one of them. The problem is that he’s right when he says you can’t trust ’em. That was why it was so good to have Felicia around; you got the best of both worlds with her. No, the fact of the matter is, those two youngsters is going to die, and there ain’t a thing we can do about it. It’s a crying shame.”

  Waggit didn’t want to believe this. There must be a way of saving the two young lives if only he could think of it. He said good-bye to Lowdown and wandered off into the woods, pondering the dilemma
and trying to think of a solution.

  Later that morning he was still mulling the situation over in his mind when he heard a familiar sound. He was near the Risingside, close to the place where the woman practiced her songs, and it was her voice that he heard now. Then it struck him like a falling rock—here was the answer to their problems. She was the Upright who could save the puppies, if he could only get them to her without revealing himself.

  He raced back to the pipe. When he got there he found several of the dogs, including Tazar, grouped around the youngsters, looks of concern on their faces. The two babies were already weaker. One no longer even cried but just lay on the ground with a dull look in his eyes. Waggit explained his idea to the group, but Tazar would have none of it.

  “No,” he said. “I’m not going to be party to condemning two dogs to the life of a petulant. It’s slavery, that’s what it is, just slavery. Better to die free in the park than that.”

  “Well, I have to tell you,” said Waggit, “that when I lived with her it was pretty comfortable slavery.”

  “But you still came back to us,” said Tazar, “and why? Because she abandoned you, because Uprights can’t be trusted and can’t be relied upon.”

  “No, she didn’t,” said Waggit. “I thought she did, but all she actually did was not think straight, and she’s probably learned her lesson. She won’t do that again.”

  But it was the puppies themselves who finally swayed Tazar. The stronger of the two started to cry again, and when the big black dog put his face close to her she began to lick his nose, begging for food. Seeing this Magica decided to add her considerable powers of persuasion.

  “Look at them, Tazar,” she said. “How can you condemn them to a horrible and painful death when they could be saved? Hasn’t there been enough death around here without adding two innocent souls to those who have already gone? Give them a chance to live.”

  Tazar knew when he was beaten, and so shortly afterward Waggit and Magica headed toward the spot where the woman sang, each with a puppy in his or her mouth. When they got to the bushes, they crouched low and edged as close as they could go without being seen. Gently putting the young dogs on the ground they pushed them toward the woman. But the more they pushed, the more the puppies came back to them. Even the weaker one was crying now, both of them scared at being separated from the older animals.