The cars and trucks parked in the back were perfect cover from the wind and drizzle that came soon after he made up his mind to wait. He had paced around the back parking area finding a piece of garlic bread that was as hard as a rock, and an oily puddle quenched his thirst but left him with an ache in his belly that he hoped didn‘t get any worse.
He was glad after he thought about it a moment that water was so plentiful on his journey, dirty as it was. It would have been a long hard trek without it to keep his muscles from cramping up. He looked up, thanking the rain that fell from the angry black-grey sky.
Robby noticed a cat lazily walking around the dump-ster. “Nasty wretched thing,” Robby grunted as he thought about eating it. Cats were gross and made his gut sour. They tasted like stinky soap and old soda bottles. Plus their claws, and all that fur. Just plain gross!
On top of all that, he would have to chase it and he just didn’t have the energy right now. He didn’t understand why the coyotes and eagles even bothered with them as he eyed the sky watching the ravens bicker on the edge of the roof top.
“But then coyotes eat each other.” he growled dryly. They must like old stinky soap and soda bottles, too. He barked, sending the cat off screaming.
“Stupid cat,” he huffed irritated.
seven
The first of the employees started to filter out of the restaurant. It was dusk as the last ones left with cheerful farewells. Robby found it to be odd gazing up at the sun that had been hidden away behind big buildings. This time of year the sun was awake until the wee hours of the morning, but here there were too many of man’s things blotting it out.
He stood by the willows planted by men earlier that summer; he smelled the fertilizer in the soil. Robby licked his scabbed shoulder. Tasting the contaminates in the dirt, he cleared it away from his wound. He was surveying the area when he heard something behind him. Whipping around, he saw a man walking slowly toward him. The man hadn’t seen Robby yet; he was looking down at his feet humming to himself, bundled up in an oversized coat. He looked up startled when Robby shifted his feet, eyeing the man with a warning stare.
“Hey there, mister,” the man said, stopping not far from Robby. “You hungry, too?” the man smiled as Robby wagged his tail, hearing the genuine goodness in his voice. Robby looked the man up and down; he sniffed the air. He was dirty and smelled bad like unwashed human, but he had no bad smell like the smell of mean, ill spirited people.
Humans all had a strange smell, but they really reeked when they were dirty, especially the males. Robby supposed he smelled strange to humans, as well. He knew he was dirty and smelly. If the Miss had caught wind of him, she’d scrub him in the bathtub with bubbly soap that tickled his nose. Robby wagged his tail watching the man slowly walk by with a chipper step but Robby knew the man was just as tired as he was.
What a strange human.
The man stood stretching to look into the dumpster, pulling out some boxes and paper. Robby was confused and curious at the same time. He walked over, sitting just behind the man, watching him tilting his head from side to side.
“Ha, a feast my boy, a feast!” the smelly man said, cheerfully climbing into the dumpster. Pulling scraps out of plastic bags, he tore them open greedily and licked his lips. There were half-eaten burgers, sandwiches, and French fries galore. The man piled them onto a broken, greasy plate, taking bites of his finds as he arranged them in an order on the discarded plate.
He sang cheerfully as he scrounged. Robby liked this man, but he confused Robby; he was eating dirty food. Nana had told him that humans couldn’t eat dirty food; it made them sick, made their bellies sour and death soon followed.
That’s why food on the floor was fair game, but food on the table was off limits. He had never seen a human eat out of the trash before. He wagged his tail; what a silly human he had found. Robby laughed a hearty whining laugh that made the man smile.
The man looked over at Robby, smiling broadly lighting up his dirty face. He began to toss over big homemade style fries, chicken scraps and soggy bread. It was a feast; never had he tasted such wonderful food! Both dirty and bone tired wanderers silently ate their plundered meals listening to the ravens bicker. Robby was very thankful for this man; the man in return seemed to like Robby’s company. With a satisfied sigh, the man climbed out of the dumpster and he rubbed his belly with a laugh.
“Some good eats, huh?” he chuckled as Robby burped smelling like onion rings and garlic bread. The man gathered up the boxes and paper he had taken out earlier and carried them into the thickest willows beyond the parking lot. He broke the boxes apart so they lay all flat as if ready to be made again. Then he crumpled the paper up, stuffing it inside his worn out pant legs. He pulled his dirty coat off, pulling a backpack off his back. Robby was shocked to see that the man was now half the size he was before. He watched perplexed now; watching this strange human.
The man pulled a worn but sturdy blanket out of the bag before shuffling through the other contents and setting the bag down. He put his coat on, stuffing more paper inside before zipping it up. He unfolded the blanket and laid down on the cardboard.
Was this where he was sleeping? Robby whined and looked about; he felt great concern for this human. He wondered if his family knew where he was. Was he lost like Robby was? The Miss had gone camping before, but she had a tent and sleeping bag. Robby laid down with his head between his paws and deep wrinkles marred his forehead as he looked on deep in thought.
Then he remembered. Nana said they were homeless. She said that humans needed a thing called money to live. They needed it to buy food, clothes, warmth, and shelter. And if they had none they had no home, no clothes, no warmth, and no food. Robby grew quiet and still. Nana said they died of hunger and cold just as animals did from time to time. No one was really nice to them and people made fun of them. The Miss had seen one and was sad. She had looked away just as confused as Robby was now. Nana said no one helped them, and they lived hard lives. No one even wanted to take them to the pound and find them a new home. Robby was so confused; he did not understand humans, but he knew the Miss.
Robby wished the Miss didn’t have to grow up in such a complex and horrible world. Now he knew why she hid with Nana and Robby in the woods when she was little. When the family yelled and fought, she would follow them to fancy little hideouts in the woods and hug them and hold them while she cried the bad smelling tears.
Robby knew people were cruel. He had been struck by man before for unknown reasons. This homeless man was nice even though he was treated so. Why was he not loved and cared for? At least someone could give him a tent and a sleeping bag. They throw half of their things away anyway. Couldn’t they give it to someone in dire need?
Like this man who shivered in the cold.
Robby huffed. The man had helped him, so he would help this man all he could. Robby walked over, nosed around and huddled up to the man. The man had shared his food; Robby would share his warmth as he did with the Miss when she hid outside in the forest with them.
“Thanks, mister,” the man whispered, petting Robby’s head with a shaky hand.
The man slept soundly all night warm for the first time in a long time thanks to this strange and wondrous dog that had appeared out of nowhere.
By the bright pink morning, Robby was gone. The man thought it to be an amazing, silly dream of a man too long at the edges of his wits. A dog had kept him warm—a golden one at that!
“Bah, a silly dream!” the man scoffed.
He was about to shake it off as just that, a dream, when he saw the golden fur that covered his blanket. He picked it off looking at it closely.
“An angel from heaven above. Thanks, mister.” The man smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept that well and had been so warm sleeping on the ground.
eight
Robby felt stiff as he trotted through the dew-soaked grass that smelled horrible, like old tires and hot burn barrels. His belly rumbled d
espite last night’s feast, taking his attention away from the chill that the cold dew threw upon him.
The trail before him was parking lot after parking lot. Ravens and crows perched and watched him with greedy eyes from their perches on light poles and roof tops. Robby growled in their direction. The cursed, disease-ridden birds were scavengers and crooks. He had to tread carefully here in this cold hard city with those greedy little eyes watching him.
It was still early, so few humans were careening through the parking lots and he was grateful not to have to dodge cars in his sorry state. He was feeling his broken rib rub him raw from the inside out and it flared in pain. All he wanted to do was lie down and cry.
Random ill-willed people staggered alone whispering to themselves as he whined, marching on. He sniffed at the people he crossed paths with. They smelled normal but a sick taint was about them and their eyes were off in some distant place.
How Robby hated this place. He only hoped that he was going the right way. He had to be. He couldn’t afford to waste time; summer was almost over.
He had to keep going.
He had to make it through the mountains before the snow fell. Once the snow fell, he wouldn’t last long; the wolves would pick him off. He glanced at the sky, picking up his pace after seeing angry black clouds rolling in over the tops of the buildings that towered over the trees.
Robby’s head was filled with so much worry that he grew oblivious to the goings-on around him. Then he realized a car was following him as he skirted the edges of a parking lot through the grass. He stopped, looking back at it. He recognized it; it was what Nana had called The Man’s Law. It was a City of Anchorage police car, the lights on the roof told all. The human driving the machine was watching him.
Robby watched him closely. Nana had told him to never trust The Man’s Law. They had guns and sticks they could cruelly use on dogs for fun. They talked the Miss’s family sometimes; most of the humans belonging to The Man’s Law Pack were awful, had no honor and smelled twisted and angry. But few, a very few, smelled good and righteous; Robby had licked a few good hands in his short years.
Robby walked on, and the car slowly followed. This was not good. Robby began to look for a good route across the four lanes of traffic that was coming up. The car still followed as he nervously trotted toward a group of people. Nana and the Miss taught him about street lights when they had taken trips to town. They would walk on the sunny side walks and catch the salty smell of the sea in the breeze. He learned to walk only when the people walked; that was the only safe time.
The car still rolled behind him.
Robby readied himself to run. He was lost in the twisted city that made him question the natural homing sense that all dogs born on the face of the earth have. No matter their breed or standard they knew home. But here in this evil place, his fears made him doubt and that’s when he lost his way. The Man’s Law stalking him made it worse. Robby sucked it up, pointed his nose home, and when the cars slowed their mad dash, he ran.
He ran like the wind harder and faster than he had ever run before. His feet hurt from the rough pavement that ate at them as he charged on. He heard the police car and its screaming sirens behind him, but he pounded on, past surprised faces and screeching cars.
He had to get to her. He had to leave here or he feared he’d be trapped forever.
He ran until his legs burned and every breath he took wheezed out of him; then he ran farther. He ran until the sun faded and a bitter cold gripped the stone and steel city. Suddenly, he smelled the salty tang of the bad smelling water where the ground was soft and clung to his fur and rubbed him raw if he didn’t clean it off.
He stumbled over steel tracks laid on the ground; and he rolled, tumbling across the cold, unforgiving planks laid between the tracks. He laid where he crashed and whined, having no more strength or will to move. A dream-like sleep over took him as he shivered in the wind that grew ever stronger with each passing hour.
nine
Robby thought back to home, to the bacon the Miss snuck to him out the back door, the long hugs before she left for the day, coming home smelling like other children, people, and places. He thought of freeze-dried moose strips in the winter and raw eggs from the ducks by the swamp. He shivered awake, feeling weak and listless like the wind would pick him up and toss him away.
The sun was rising, but he didn’t watch it with the same joy as he once had. It laughed at him as it shown a vast inlet of water that spread out before him with the tiniest sliver of land on the other side. It teased him.
That’s where he had to go.
He pushed himself on to his rump, cramping his tail awkwardly underneath him. He groaned, his body burning in dull aches, but his stomach worried him the most. It grumbled and boiled making him sick with hunger. As he pulled his tail from under his leg, he wagged it so hard he thought it would pop off. He smelled marsh that promised small fish and frogs, but he grew more excited as he saw ducks and gulls of all varieties sitting lazily on their nests that promised late eggs, chicks, and leftovers from meals.
Robby pulled himself to his feet and trotted across the highway as it was unusually empty. He slid into the water swimming, or walking, through the two feet of cold water that he rather enjoyed. Swimming made his aches and pains lessen and cooled the fevered wound on his hip at the same time as making him stiffen up.
The birds were instantly angry and screeched at him diving this way and that. He quickened his pace not wanting to catch a sharp beak to the back of his head. He was giddy with joy as he snatched up a fat duck with a broken wing. Swimming back to the shore line next to the paved black top, he ate his downy meal, burping up and coughing up feathers as best he could.
He felt satisfied for now, feeling the duck he had just eaten boil in his stomach. He burped again, feeling ill. He pulled himself to his feet and trotted on feeling queasy. Robby watched the cars go by. There had been more and more of them on the death-black paved road as the sun rose. He decided this was his chance to cut through the forest. He knew the roads kept him on his path in the dirty city but out here they weaved in silly time-wasting ways, going around the mountains instead of up and over.
Robby grumbled looking at the thick tangle of wind whipped trees and willows. He sniffed the air, smelling the salty wind that roared in from Turnagain Arm. Robby knew this area; he remembered the horrible wind when he had ridden in the back of the big blue Ford. He remembered it in his dreams; it was horribly strong, so strong that the big blue Ford was battered by it. He gulped, lowering his head and marching into the unknown wind-twisted forest. The farther he went, the worse the wind became.
Then the sky turned black and angry, and as the rain came down and it was blown sideways, chilling him to the bone.
And still he marched on.
He had to get home.
He had to get to her.
ten
He hid among the sad, twisted trees, walking in constant fear of being ripped from the ground and thrown into the air. Robby had crept on his belly, sliding like a snake to the edge of a cliff to overlook a section of the death-black paved road. It was just below him. A rock was knocked over as a gust of wind pushed him back, causing him to grip the mossy rocks. The rock landed with a muffled crack as it skidded across the death-black pavement. He heard the rumble of a car fighting the wind and turned away, slinking back into the cover of the trees.
He looked back one last time, gazing over the vast bowl of water that made his path veer off from the straight line he wanted to fallow. He felt his hope sink. He lowered his head with a sad, lonely whine. He felt ready to give up until he remembered the Miss, shivering in the cold with him, hiding from the rain with him, sleeping on the damp ground with him and Nana, keeping each other warm.
A new purpose gripped him, and a thought crossed his weary mind.
“I will!” Robby growled and snapped his teeth together with a new strength, giving his legs power, and pushing past his fear. He raced throu
gh the raging storm and the pounding rain with his head and tail held high.
I will, he said over and over again, making his weary mind sharp and focused.
Before he knew it, a night and a day had past. After a belly full of mountain sheep that had been knocked from a ledge by the storm, he paused only long enough to drink from a spring that came out of the face of the mountain to help settle his full stomach before moving on.
Robby paused on a large jutting rock that put him even higher than the great mountain he had already walked upon. He gazed at the mountains and the water. What sights he saw; what smells he found; how the Miss would have loved all this. He took a deep sniff, feeling a ray of sunshine touch him. It made his dirty golden coat blaze red against the grey of the rocks around him.
She loved to hike, his Miss. He remembered days where they would fight their way to the peak of a hill. She sweated while Robby thought he couldn’t pant enough to cool himself down. He even remembered the time his tongue got tired and he feared it would come right out of his mouth. He often had silly thoughts as a pup.
When they reached the top, they would sit in the silence and gaze over all they had risen above. The wind would sweep past them, cooling them from their agonizing hike and bringing the sweet smell of a hot spruce forest. The thrill of the race down the mountain and laying in the glacier fed creek was almost as perfect as sitting in that silence, watching the hawks soar just a little higher than they sat.
How he missed her.
He moved on deep into the night. Noticing the darkness lingering longer filling him with dread. Within the growing darkness came the long-staying snow and he was much too high on the world’s back and much too thin to survive. Robby shuttered at the thought of snow.
Alaska Dogs and Iditarod Mushers Page 52