The Plague Dogs

by Richard Adams

  "Well, what about dogs? Who is the gentleman and where's the call from?"

  "I think he's a local enquirer, Mr. Powell. A private person. Will you speak?"

  Whoever he is, she's evidently very anxious to pass him on, thought Mr. Powell. He pondered quickly. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't know. If he did not take the call, it would look evasive and the caller would be referred to someone else. Also, if he did not take it and it turned out to be a matter within his responsibility, it would only come back to him in the end; whereas if it were not within his responsibility, he would have found out someone else's business without being any the worse off himself.

  "All right, Dolly. I'll be glad to help the gentleman if I can. Please put him through."

  "Thank you, Mr. Powell!" (Quite a ruddy lilt in the voice! thought Mr. Powell.) Click. "Putting you through to Mr. Powell, sir." Click. "You're through!" (Wish we were!)

  "Good morning, sir. My name's Powell. Can I help you?"

  "Have ye lost any dogs?"

  "Er--who is that speaking, please?"

  "My name's Williamson. Ah'm sheep-farmer at Seath't, Doonnerd'l. Ah'm assking have ye lost any dogs?"

  "Er--could you tell me a little more about your problem, Mr. Williamson? I mean, how you come to be asking us and so on?"

  "Ay, Ah will that. Theer's sheep been killed in Doonnerd'l, three or four o' 'em, an' Ah'm not th' only farmer as reckons it's stray dogs. Ah'm joost assking for a straight annser to a straight question--have ye lost any dogs?"

  "I'm sorry I can't tell you the straight answer just off the cuff, Mr. Williamson, but I--"

  "Well, can Ah speak to th' chap who can? Soomone moost know how many dogs ye've got and whether owt's missing."

  "Yes, that's quite right, but he's not here just at the moment. Mr. Williamson, may I ring you back quite soon? I assure you I will, so don't worry."

  "Well, Ah hope it is soon. Theer's chaps here as has to work for their living, and sheep's money, tha knaws--"

  Mr. Powell, despite his bleak misgivings, decided to try a counterattack.

  "Mr. Williamson, have you or anyone actually seen these dogs?"

  "If Ah had they'd not be alive now, Ah'll tell thee. Do your dogs wear collars?"

  "Yes, they do--green plastic ones with numbers on."

  "Ay, well, then you'll joost know if there's any missing, wayn't ye?"

  Dennis gave his own number, reiterated his hope for an early reply and rang off. Mr. Powell, with a sinking heart, went to seek audience of Dr. Boycott.

  "--Assa, what a sad carry-on an' aall, mind," said the tod. "Rakin' aboot aall ower th' place, bidin' oot o' neets from here to yon. But mark ma words, ye must kill away from hyem, aye kill away from hyem, else it's th' Dark for ye, ne doot at aall. Nivver muck up yer aan byre, like ye did back yonder." It became expansive. "Lukka me now. There's none se sharp. Ah wez littered a lang step from here, far ahint th' Cross Fell. Ah've waalked aall ower, an' Ah'm as canny off as th' next, fer aall th' chasin'."

  "Ay, yer canny, ne doot," said Snitter, rolling comfortably on the shale to scratch his back. "I'd never say you're--er--wrang."

  "Nivver kill twice ower i' th' same place, and nivver kill inside o' two mile o' yer aan byre. An' nivver bring nowt back wi' ye. There's mony a tod has gone to th' Dark wi' chuckin' guts an' feathers aboot ootside its aan byre."

  "Hitty-missy faffin'," murmured Snitter lazily. "I say, tod, I'm getting rather good, don't you think?"

  "Mebbies we'll kill ower b' Ash Gill beck or some sich place th' neet," went on the tod, ignoring Snitter's sally. "But farmers is sharp te find bodies an' it's us that's got ter be sharpest. So eftor that it'll be Langdale--or Eskdale--ten mile's not ower far. Aye roam te th' kill, an' ye'll see hyem still."

  "I'm game," said Rowf. "I'll go as far as you like, as long as we do kill."

  "If ony boogger says Ah's not clivver, whey Ah's still here an' that's eneuf to prove it."

  "You can join the club," said Snitter. "The Old Survivors--very exclusive--only three members, counting you. And one of them's mad."

  "That was Kiff's joke--he knew what it meant--I never did," said Rowf. "What is a club?"

  "It's when dogs get together--run through the streets and piss on the walls; chase the bitches, scuffle about and pretend to fight each other--you know."

  "No," said Rowf sorrowfully. "I've never done that--it sounds good."

  "D'you remember when they took Kiff away, and we all barked the place down singing his song?"

  "Yes, I do. Taboo, tabye--that one?"

  "That's it--d'you remember it? Come on, then!"

  There and then, in the darkness of the shaft, the two dogs lifted up their muzzles in Kiff's song, which that gay and ribald tyke, before his death by cumulative electrocution, had left behind him in the pens of Animal Research as his gesture of defiance, none the less valid for remaining uncomprehended by Dr. Boycott, by old Tyson, or even, come to that, by I.C.I. After a little, the tod's sharp, reedy voice could be heard in the burden.

  "There happened a dog come into our shed. (Taboo, taboo)

  He hadn't a name and he's sure to be dead. (Taboo, taboo, taboo)

  He wagged his tail and nothing he knew

  Of the wonderful things that the whitecoats do.

  (Taboo, tabye, ta-bollocky-ay, we're all for up the chimney.)

  "I heard the head of the whitecoats say, (Taboo, taboo)

  'We're getting another one in today.' (Taboo, taboo, taboo)

  The tobacco man needn't waste his grub,

  We'll sling him into the pickling tub.'(Taboo, tabye, ta-bollocky-ay, we're all for up the chimney.)

  "So they laid him out on a nice glass bench. (Taboo, taboo)

  His entrails made a horrible stench. (Taboo, taboo, taboo)

  And this next bit will make you roar--

  His shit fell out all over the floor. (Taboo, tabye, ta-bollocky-ay, we're all for up the chimney.)

  "O who's going to stick him together again? (Taboo, taboo)

  His ear's in a bottle, his eye's in the drain, (Taboo, taboo, taboo)

  His cock's gone down to the lecture hall,

  And I rather think he's missing a ball. (Taboo, tabye, ta-bollocky-ay, we're all for up the chimney.)

  "When I've gone up in smoke don't grieve for me, (Taboo, taboo)

  For a little pink cloud I'm going to be. (Taboo, taboo, taboo)

  I'll lift my leg as I'm drifting by

  And pee right into a whitecoat's eye. (Taboo, tabye, ta-bollocky-ay, we're all for up the chimney.)

  "It you want to know who made up this song-- (Taboo, taboo)

  'Twas a rollicking dog who didn't live long. (Taboo, taboo, taboo)

  His name was Kiff, he was black and white,

  He was burned to cinders--serve him right. (Taboo, tabye, ta-bollocky-ay, we're all for up the chimney.)"

  "Good old Kiff--he was a hard case. If he were here now--"

  "Wish he was," growled Rowf.

  "If he were here now, I know what he'd say. He'd ask what we meant to do in the long run."

  "Long run?" asked Rowf. "Hasn't it been long enough for you?"

  "How long do you suppose we can keep it up--running about in this empty, man-made place, killing fowls and animals and dodging guns? I mean, where's it going to end--where's it going to get us?"

  "Where it gets the tod--"

  "Why ay, hinny--let's be happy through th' neet--" "But they're bound to get us in the end, Rowf. We ought to be planning some way out. And you know very well there's only one way--we've got to find some men and--and--what was I saying?" Snitter scratched at his split head. "Milkman, rhododendrons, newspapers--linoleum smells nice too--and sort of tinkling, windy noises came out of a box--used to make me howl, then rush out of the garden door--cats cats quick quick wuff wuff!"

  "What on earth are you talking about?"

  There was a pause.

  "I can't remember," said Snitter miserably. "Rowf, we've got to fi
nd some sort of men. It's our only chance."

  "You wouldn't let me when I wanted to, the other night."

  "Well, you weren't going about it the right way. That would have finished us all."

  "You're a good little chap, Snitter, and you've had a bad time. I'm not going to quarrel with you--but no more men for me; that's flat. I wasn't myself that night."

  "There was a good man, once." Snitter was whining.

  "Haddaway, ye fond fyeul! Giv ower! A gud man? Ay, an' soft stones an' dry watter--"

  "I know there was one once, long ago," said Rowf. "My mother told me that story in the basket--it was about all she had time to tell me, actually. But he went to the bad; and there'll never be one again--you must know that."

  "What story, Rowf--what do you mean?"

  "She said all dogs know the story. Do you mean to say I know something you don't?"

  The shale rattled as Snitter turned over.

  "Do you know it, tod?"

  "Nay--but Ah warr'nd it'll be a mazer. Let's hev yer wee tale then, hinny."

  "She said--" Rowf was pondering. "She used to say--well, there's a great dog up in the sky--he's all made of stars. She said you can see him; but I never know where to look, and you certainly can't smell him; but sometimes you can hear him barking and growling, up in the clouds, so he must be there. Anyway, it seems that it was he, this dog, long ago, who had a great idea of creating all the animals and birds-all the different kinds. He must have had a lot of fun inventing them, I suppose.

  "Well, anyway, when he'd invented them all--so she said--he needed somewhere to put them, so he created the earth--trees for the birds, and pavements and gardens and posts and parks for the dogs, and holes underground for rats and mice, and houses for cats; and he put the fish in the water and insects into the flowers and grass, and all the rest of it. Very neat job--in fact you'd wonder, really, wouldn't you, how it was all managed? Still, I suppose a star dog--"

  "Listen!" said Snitter, leaping nervously to his feet. "What's that?"

  "Haald yer gobs an' bide still!"

  They all three listened. Footsteps and human voices approached the mouth of the shaft across the turf outside. They stopped a moment, their owners evidently looking in, and voices boomed in the mouth of the cavern. Then they passed on, in the direction of Lickledale.

  Snitter lay down again. The tod had not moved a paw. Rowf was evidently warming to his tale and no one had to ask him to go on.

  "Well, the star dog needed someone to look after the place and see that all the animals and birds got their food and so on, so he decided to create a really intelligent creature who could take the job right off his back. And after a bit of reflection he created Man, and told him what he wanted him to do.

  "The man--and he was a splendid specimen: well, perfect, really, because in those days he couldn't be anything else--he considered it for a bit, and then he said, 'Well, sir' (he called the star dog 'Sir,' you know), 'Well, sir, it's going to be a big job and there'll be a lot to do--a hard day's work every day--and the only thing I'm wondering is what I stand to get out of it?'

  "The star dog thought about that and in the end he said, This is how we'll fix it. You shall have plenty of intelligence--almost as much as I have, and as well as that I'll give you hands, with fingers and thumbs, and that's more than I've got myself. And of course you shall have a mate, like all the other animals. Now, look, you can make reasonable use of the animals, and part of your job will be to control them as well. I mean, if one kind starts getting to be too many and harming or hindering the others by eating all the food or hunting them down beyond what's reasonable, you must thin that kind out until there's the right number again. And you can kill what animals you need--not too many--for food and clothing and so on. But I want you to remember all the time that if I've made you the most powerful animal it's so that you can look after the others--help them to do the best they can for themselves, see they're not wasted and so on. You're in charge of the world. You must try to act with dignity, like me. Don't go doing anything mean or senseless. And for a start,' he said, 'you can sit down and give names to the whole lot, so that you and I will know what we're talking about for the future.'

  "Well, the man did this naming and a nice, long job it proved to be, what with all the cows and rats and cats and blackbirds and spiders and things. Of course, most of them--like tod here--hardly had any idea that they had names--but anyway the man did. And in the end he got it done, and settled down to look after the world, as the star dog had told him to. And after a time the animals had young and the man and his mate had children and the world began to be quite full up, so that the man had to do some of the thinning out that the star dog had said would be all right.

  "Now it seems that about this time the star dog had to go away on a journey--I suppose to see to some other world or something: but apparently it was a great distance and he must have been gone a long time, because while he was away some of the man's children grew up, and with them that always takes years and years, you know. Anyway, when the star dog got back, he thought he'd go and see how the man and all the animals were getting on. He was looking forward to a visit to the earth, because he'd always felt that that was rather a good job he'd done--better than some others, I dare say.

  "When he got down to the earth, he couldn't find anyone at all for a long time. He wandered about the streets and parks and places, and at last, in a wood, he caught a glimpse of a young badger, who was hiding under the branches of a fallen tree. After a lot of trouble he persuaded him to come out and asked him what was the matter.

  " Why,' said the badger, 'some men came this morning and dug up our sett and smashed it all to pieces, and they pulled my father and mother out with a long pair of tongs with sharp teeth on the ends. They hurt my father badly and now they've put them both in a sack and taken them away--I don't know where.'

  " 'Are there too many badgers round here, then?' asked the star dog.

  " 'No, there are hardly any left,' said the young badger. There used to be quite a lot, but the men have killed nearly all of us. That's why I was hiding--I thought you were the men coming back.'

  "The star dog moved the badgers who were left to a safe place and then he went to look for the man. After walking about for quite a long time, he heard a confused noise in the distance--shouting and barking and people running about, so he went in that direction and after a bit he came to a kind of big yard, and he found the man there and some of his grown-up children. They'd made a kind of ring at one end of the yard, out of sheets of corrugated iron, and they'd put the mother and father badger in there and were throwing stones at them to make them more fierce and trying to make some dogs attack them. The dogs weren't very keen, because, although the male badger had a broken paw and was badly wounded in the face, he was fighting like the devil and his mate was just as brave as he was. But the dogs had been kept very hungry on purpose and anyway they supposed the men must know best, especially as there were about twelve dogs to two badgers.

  "The star dog put a stop to what was going on and sent the two badgers off to be looked after by their family until they were better, and then he told the man that it had come to his nose that things weren't as they should be and asked him what he thought he was doing.

  " 'Oh,' says the man, 'you said I was to keep the numbers of the animals down and some of them had to be killed if necessary. You said we could make use of the animals, so we were just having a bit of sport. After all, animals are given us for our amusement, aren't they?'

  "The star dog felt angry, but he thought that perhaps he ought to have made clearer to the man in the first place what he'd meant, so he explained again that he regarded him as responsible for seeing that the animals weren't killed without good reason, and that their lives weren't wasted or thrown away for nothing. 'If you're the cleverest,' he said, 'that means, first of all, that you're supposed to care for the others and consider them as creatures you've got to look after. Just think about that, and make sure y
ou get it right.'

  "Well, anyway, after a long time the star dog decided to come back to the earth again and this time he chose the middle of the summer, because he thought it would be nice to roll about on the grass and have a run through the parks, and the gardens of the houses, when all the leaves and flowers were out and smelling so nice. When he arrived it was a hot day and he went down to the nearest river to have a drink. But he found he could smell it from half a mile away and it was awful. When he got up close he found it was full of human shit and crammed with floating, dead fish. There was a wretched water rat making off as fast as he could along the bank and the star dog asked him what had gone wrong, but he only said he didn't know.

  "After some time the star dog came upon a crowd of men who were all shouting at each other and holding some sort of meeting, so he asked them if they knew what had happened in the river, and how all the fish had come to die in poisoned water.

  " 'We're the sewage workers,' said one of them, 'and we're not going to do any more work until our demands are met. It's a very serious business, too--do you realise we're so short of money that we haven't got any for gambling or smoking or getting drunk?'

  " 'My fish are all dead,' said the star dog.

  " 'What the hell's it matter about a lot of bloody fish?' said one of the men. 'We know our rights and we mean to have them.'

  "This time the star dog told all the men he met that if he found them once more wilfully misunderstanding or taking no notice of what he'd said, he wouldn't warn them again."

  Rowf paused.

  "Noo what wez at th' bottom o' thet, then?" asked the tod.

  "Well, of course, it did go wrong," said Rowf morosely. "I'm not telling it very well, but he came back again. Kiff knew this story, and he said the star dog found the men sticking iron, pointed things into a wretched bull and making it rip the stomachs out of a lot of poor old broken-down horses, and they were laughing at them and pelting them with orange peel while they went limping about. But I think my mother said he found some birds in cages which the men had blinded to make them sing. They sing to assert themselves, of course, and keep other cock birds away, so as they were blind they kept singing as long as they had any strength, because they couldn't tell whether there were any rival birds about or not. Anyway, whatever it was, the star dog said to the man, 'Because thou hast done this thing, thou art cursed above every beast of the field. They will continue to live their lives as before, without reflection or regret, and I will speak to them in their hearts, in hearing and in scent and instinct and in the bright light of their perception of the moment. But from you I shall turn away for ever, and you will spend the rest of your days wondering what is right and looking for the truth that I shall conceal from you and infuse instead into the lion's leap and the assurance of the rose. You are no longer fit to look after the animals. Henceforth you shall be subject to injustice, murder and death, like them; and unlike them, you shall be so full of confusion that you shall loathe even your brother's and sister's bodily fluids and excretions. Now get out of my sight.'