Dog

by Andy Mulligan

  Another cat had appeared on the shed roof. This one was a youngster, with a damaged ear. She had no access to the house, but lived comfortably in one of the abandoned cottages. Hughie was just behind her, with Pigeon. These two lived with one of the servants. They knew their place, keeping to the shadows and standing by to assist Moonlight should she need them.

  “Dog,” said Butter, “Moonlight is absolutely right: you should practise your climbing. It’s essential for survival.”

  “You must listen to us,” said Pigeon.

  “I am,” said Spider. “I’ve done what I can, but I’m facing facts now—or trying to. I’m just not much of a climber.”

  “Oh, sweetheart!” cried Moonlight. “Give up now, and it’s all been for nothing. Don’t do that to us. We’ve come so far together, and here you are among those who love you most. Look, tomorrow we’ll break in and get you a proper meal.”

  “But you said that days ago,” said Spider. “It’s been half a week, maybe more—”

  “I do what I can!” cried Moonlight.

  “I’m sure you do, but I’m so hungry.”

  “You want to leave me—I can sense it.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Leave, if you must.”

  “But where would I go? Where’s the town, Moonlight? I’ve no idea where I am.”

  “Just follow your heart!”

  “Listen,” said Hughie suddenly. “What about a nice, fat squirrel? They can be quite tasty, if you don’t mind gristle. They’re nutritious, too.”

  Moonlight turned to him. “That’s a wonderful idea, Hughie. Why didn’t you mention it before?”

  “I thought you’d seen them. There are loads, up in the cedars.”

  “I can’t remember everything, can I?” said Moonlight. “I can’t take responsibility for every little thing.”

  “Of course not.”

  “We thought you didn’t like rodent,” said Pigeon.

  “It’s not for me!” hissed Moonlight in frustration. “Sometimes we have to think about others and their needs. Now, where exactly are they? Which tree?”

  “Just over the bridge. There are some old ones who can’t run very fast, so they wouldn’t be hard to catch. We could get one now—I’m sure we could.”

  “Spider, this is your chance,” said Moonlight. “A real hunt!”

  “It would be fun,” said Hughie, and he leapt up on to one of the bins. “They’re easy to kill, squirrels. I remember when you caught that baby one, Moonlight—you kept it alive all day!”

  “He tried to scratch me.”

  Hughie nodded. “That’s true. You bit his legs off in revenge. He was no match for you.”

  “Small creatures never are,” said Butter.

  “I don’t know,” said Moonlight. “Sometimes I think my killing days are over. Isn’t there too much conflict in the world already? Why can’t we just love one another, and live in peace? That was one of the many things that drew me to Spider: he’s kind, you see, not cruel. And who wants blood on their paws?”

  “I agree,” said Pigeon. “Let’s forget it.”

  “Forget what?”

  “The squirrel.”

  “No, Pigeon—how can we?” said Moonlight. “If Spider is to learn real independence, he has to develop key skills. In any case, squirrels are filthy animals. They deserve to die.”

  The group moved off together, and the fox followed at a distance.

  The cats padded through a gate on to the second lawn, and went towards the largest of the ponds, over an ornamental bridge. The trees beyond were huge, spreading their branches low. They sat down around Spider, so Jesse checked she was still downwind, and crept a little closer. Soon, she was within earshot—and the cats were so engrossed in their conversation they didn’t look round.

  “It’s not simply about claws, Spider,” said Moonlight. “It’s about determination.”

  The other cats were nodding.

  “I understand that,” replied the dog. “I’m sure determination is very important, but in the end I just can’t grip. We can’t pretend otherwise—mine aren’t long enough.”

  “Aren’t they?” said Pigeon. “Let me see.”

  “They’re not sharp, either.”

  Pigeon sniffed at one of Spider’s paws.

  “Hmm,” she said. “They are rather blunt.”

  “Oh, darling, do try,” said Moonlight. “Try for me, and I’m sure you’ll succeed. Butter, why don’t you go first, and guide him?”

  “Very well,” said Butter, leaping on to a branch. “The first bit’s easy, so watch and learn.”

  “It may be easy for you,” said Spider.

  “A kitten could do it.”

  Spider gritted his teeth and put his paws up on the trunk. There was no way he could heave himself upwards, and he could feel the cats’ impatience.

  “I can’t do this,” he said.

  “Then look over there!” cried Moonlight. She pointed with her chin. “Look at that long bough, and how it sweeps down to the ground. Come round this side, Spider—you’re in luck. Even you can get on to that.”

  Everyone moved together, and Spider saw that it might be possible. A great clump of foliage had weighed one of the lower branches right down, so Spider jumped and scrambled, and managed to get himself on to it. It swayed under him, and he went down on his haunches. He was trembling already, but that may have been from weakness.

  Moonlight, meanwhile, drew herself swiftly up the central trunk, and was soon poised prettily above him, looking down. The other cats joined her, keeping a respectful distance.

  “Come on, mongrel,” said Hughie. “Come towards us.”

  “Hughie, angel, don’t call him that,” said Moonlight. She looked at Spider.

  “You’re doing marvellously. Try and straighten your legs—and always look up.”

  “Never look down,” said Pigeon.

  “Use your tail,” said Butter. “Get it up.”

  For Spider, it was like being back on the roof, when he made his perilous journey along the ridge. He didn’t dare straighten anything: the only way he could make progress was to cling to the limb and inch along it using his elbows. Every lump and bump had to be dealt with slowly: a twig in the wrong place meant careful manoeuvring, and a new cluster of foliage was a nightmare, because he had to close his eyes to butt through it. He still had splinters in his shoulder from when he’d broken through the chicken shed: now they were joined by countless shards of hard, spiteful bark that were forcing their way into his muzzle.

  “Try jumping,” said Moonlight, and Spider just managed to suppress a growl of frustration.

  Eventually, he reached the main trunk, and saw it was a good four metres above the ground. His head was spinning. At least it was obvious what the next move had to be: another bough reared upwards, just above his ears, and he could see that where it divided, there was a series of branches that interlocked, like stairs. The cats had realized this too, for they had all moved together and were arranged over them.

  “You’ve done the hard bit, doggie,” said Pigeon.

  “Where’s the squirrel?” asked Spider.

  “At the top, I’m afraid.”

  “They always hide up there, the rotters.”

  “Cowards.”

  Spider sighed. “Look,” he said. “Wouldn’t it be more sensible if you went and found them? I don’t think I can get much higher, and even if I can—”

  “Don’t say that!” cried Moonlight.

  “Why not?”

  “Because self-doubt is the most wicked enemy, darling. You must vanquish it through bold aspiration.”

  “No. Moonlight, please. I don’t know what words like that even mean, but this clearly isn’t working.”

  “Try, Spider!”

  “I have been!”

  “Then do it for love! Faith is what you need to give you wings—and if you die in the attempt, so be it! At least you will have burned brightly, like Icarus. Keep going
, angel! Help him, Hughie!”

  Hughie jumped down and skipped the next few steps as an example. The others mewed their encouragement, and the dog realized he had no choice.

  Spider put both ears back, and launched himself wildly at the next branch. His paws made contact with something solid, and he swung there, scrabbling. Before he dropped backwards, he pushed again, heaving himself upwards. He grabbed at leaves with his mouth, and when his tail got jammed, he hauled it free, whimpering under his breath. Suddenly, he was in the centre of the tree, wedged in a V-shaped branch he could wrap between his forepaws. He hugged it, waiting to be sick. The whole world was swaying wildly.

  “Oh, Spider!” cried Moonlight. “You’re so funny! Look at him…”

  The dog closed his eyes. He was panting again and shivering all over. His ears were full of dirt, and he’d got a mouthful of ants, which were scurrying around his gums—he could feel several exploring the back of his throat. His left nostril was cut, and he had blood all down his chin. He blinked, and the tears cleared his vision: Moonlight was looking down, with her head on one side. She eased herself gracefully along a branch and dropped on to one a little lower. Tail high, she poured herself down, and padded daintily towards him.

  “You’re a warrior,” she whispered. “Will you chase me for ever? Don’t speak! Rest now, for you’re halfway there.”

  Spider groaned. “I think I’m finished.”

  “In what way, brave heart?”

  “I’ve come as far as I can, and I’ve lost another life—maybe two. I’m not a cat, and I don’t want to be, and… Oh, where’s the wretched squirrel?”

  Moonlight turned and looked upwards into the leaves.

  “Where’s the nest, Pigeon? Can you see it?”

  “It’s empty,” said Pigeon.

  “Oh.”

  “I think they probably heard us coming,” said Butter. “Our friend was just a little bit noisy, I’m afraid, so I think they’ve moved on. Unless we’ve got the wrong tree.”

  “Bother,” said Moonlight. “Run up and check, would you? It seems a shame to give up now.”

  “I’m at the top,” cried Hughie. “Butter’s right: they’ve scarpered.”

  A breeze stirred the leaves, and Spider coughed.

  “Is anyone cold?” asked Pigeon. “How are you, Moonlight? It’s late for you, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, don’t worry about me,” said Moonlight.

  “You mustn’t get sick,” said Butter. “You should be indoors.”

  “I know—that’s just what the vet said, when he was speaking to the old woman. ‘Don’t take risks’, he said—and here I am, reckless as ever. Love is so, so dangerous.”

  She cleaned a paw and looked at Spider.

  “Let’s think,” she said. “It might be best if you stayed here till the morning. If you’re quiet, the squirrels may come back, and then you’ll be able to get one for breakfast. You’ll be safe enough, won’t you?”

  “Where?”

  “Here.”

  “No,” said Spider.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m halfway up a tree, Moonlight. I’ll freeze, and then I’ll fall.”

  “But I’m looking at it logically. When the squirrels come back, you’ll be perfectly placed, and—”

  “Moonlight, no. How can I stay up here? Just look at me.”

  The cat came closer and looked at the dog’s hunched, twisted form.

  “Darling, you may be right. All I want is what’s best for you, so I think you should make the decision. I have to go, obviously, but if you want to abandon all this, and go back to that little boy… well, perhaps you should.”

  “Moonlight, I’m lost.”

  “Aren’t we all? Perhaps that’s the only thing we ever know for sure.”

  Spider felt his head swim.

  The breeze blew harder, and the tree leant sickeningly as the branches groaned. Spider was losing his footing, and the ants in his throat were making him cough. Pushing up with his right leg, a piece of bark came away, and he nearly slipped. Moonlight stared at him, and Spider managed to grab the branch between his chin and his chest. “Don’t leave me,” he said quietly.

  “I think I must,” said Moonlight. “I will kiss you, though, because a kiss will keep you warm all night.”

  “I don’t want a kiss!”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “We did our best, didn’t we? I won’t forget you, Spider, and I feel that you won’t forget me, so—”

  “Moonlight,” said Pigeon, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but—”

  “Wait, please. I’m saying goodbye to a very special dog. He’s tried so hard, so hush for a moment. We’re all beginning to realize that we can go no further as a team, and our experiment has failed.”

  “We’ve got a visitor, Moonlight—”

  “Pigeon, please!”

  “She’s right under us.”

  “Shh!”

  Moonlight put a paw on Spider’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She pushed her nose towards the dog’s forehead, and was just about to lick him when his hind legs slipped again. His body swung sideways, and all he could do was kick wildly. He launched himself upwards again, and his skull smacked hard into Moonlight’s. The blow sent her spinning backwards, legs flailing. Spider yelped in horror, and found he was tumbling after her.

  Neither animal had time to cry, though Butter, Pigeon and Hughie all shrieked in alarm. There was no real danger to Moonlight, of course, for the cat was used to jumping, and her feet were ready for the grass. Unfortunately, Spider landed directly on top of her, and while that cushioned his own fall, Moonlight had the air driven from her lungs, as she was squashed face first into a knotty root. The dog rolled to one side, and lay stunned.

  That was when Jesse saw her chance—and took it. Spider glimpsed a blur of fiery red, and caught a powerful smell as she attacked. The fox’s jaws closed on Moonlight’s neck, and shook her like a rag. The bell on her collar tinkled wildly, and she tried to free herself, clawing the air. Jesse tossed her high, and prepared to catch her again for the final crunch. How the cat escaped death, Spider would never know.

  Moonlight turned a complete somersault and somehow swivelled in mid-air. She wasn’t quite quick enough, though: Jesse got her again, but only by the tail. She swung her round, the cat slashing madly. She twisted, so Jesse hauled her round the other way, in two dizzying circles. The cat leapt for her life, as the fox bit harder. The next moment, the tail was in two pieces, and Spider saw Moonlight’s mutilated backside disappear across the lawn. He tried to chase her—but she was gone, and all that remained was a glimmering trail of blood.

  Jesse spat the furry remains into the grass and looked at the dog.

  “Close,” she said, licking her lips.

  She grinned, then, and laughed a rich, throaty laugh.

  Spider could hardly move. He stared at the tail stump, and tried to find words: they simply wouldn’t come.

  “Don’t tell me you were friends,” said the fox.

  Spider blinked. “We were,” he said weakly.

  “Well, I’m sorry, in that case. But she was asking for it. Why is a dog like you hanging around with trash like that? What’s your name?”

  “Spider.”

  “You’re in a bad way, Spider, old chap. You need food and shelter, and a good night’s sleep. What are you sniffing at? What’s wrong?”

  Spider blinked and looked up.

  “It’s her collar,” he said quietly. “She was proud of that.”

  “Ah, forget it.”

  “This is awful, though. Will she die, do you think?”

  The fox barked. “What’s she going to die of?”

  “She’s been hurt! Look…”

  “Ah, it’s only a flesh wound, Spider. She’ll be back soon, more’s the pity. You haven’t seen the last of her.”

  “Then perhaps I should look after her tail. We could mend it somehow. Reattach it, or—”

  “N
o, we couldn’t.”

  “No?”

  “Spider,” said the fox, “are you telling me that you were genuinely fond of that animal? Because if so, you’re weak in the head. She was playing with you!”

  “She liked me. I felt sort of drawn to her. She was…”

  “What?”

  “Oh, it’s hard to explain. She was so confident. She said I might be half cat, you see, so—”

  “Half starved is what you are,” said Jesse. “What you need is meat, because you’re not functioning, friend—that’s probably why you’re saying such ridiculous things. Leave the tail, and leave the collar. Come on—I’ll look after you.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been this lost,” said Spider.

  The two animals had been underground for at least twenty minutes, and the dog was exhausted.

  Jesse paused, and waited for him to catch his breath.

  “It’s a side tunnel, this one,” she said. “It connects up with the main drag, and brings us to the heart of the den. You know what a den is?”

  “A kind of home.”

  “Well, this is all part of mine—and you’re welcome to it. Nothing safer than a tunnel…”

  Spider couldn’t see a lot, but his eyes were slowly adjusting. He could make out the walls, which were rough earth, and he knew they’d been trotting downhill for quite some time. One passage had led to another, and then Jesse seemed to double back. There was a smell of fresh, clean air and Spider found himself in a well-ventilated chamber covered in soft, dry leaves.

  “What do you think?” asked the fox.

  “Nice.”

  “I didn’t build it, but I like to think I’ve made a few improvements. For one thing, we have a larder now. How do you feel about pheasant? Killed her yesterday, and there’s still enough for two.”

  “I think I could eat anything,” said Spider.

  “You settle down to that, then. There’s a spring nearby, so once you’re done we’ll go for a drink. I’m off tomorrow—don’t know where yet. Just keen to see new places, I suppose. You’re from the town?”

  Spider nodded. “I was.”

  “Welcome to the country. What made you leave your home?”

  Spider sighed, and told him the whole story. The fox busied herself by dividing up the bird. She made sure her guest got several rich, tender pieces of breast meat, and the dog was soon chewing with an overwhelming sense of relief. Food had never tasted so good, and he could feel a trickle of energy slowly returning.