Waggit Forever

by Peter Howe

“Oh yes,” she replied. “They’re all over the place. Everybody’s talking about them.”

  When Alona said everybody, she meant all the loners. Despite their solitary existence, or maybe because of it, they were the most terrible gossips, and much of the information that Alona got for the team came from this source. It was, however, often unreliable.

  “What’re we going to do, boss?” Lowdown nervously inquired.

  “There’s not much we can do,” said Tazar, “apart from keeping Waggit away from the Skyline End.”

  “Well,” grumbled Gruff, “I hope he spends the extra time at the Ductors’ feeder, since his stupid stunt has cut off food from the Skyline End. Rescuing Uprights! I never heard of such a thing.”

  “There is one thing we could do,” Lowdown suggested.

  “What’s that?” asked Tazar.

  “We could move, like Waggit’s friend suggested,” said Lowdown.

  The dogs gasped at the thought.

  “He’s not my friend,” complained Waggit.

  “Whether he is or not ain’t the point,” said Lowdown. “Although if he could pull this off, he might turn out to be the best friend this team’s ever had.”

  “Do you realize how difficult and dangerous it would be? It would be hard enough to take a loner from here to another park, never mind all of us,” said Tazar.

  “Well, I don’t mind telling you I ain’t moving,” screeched Alicia. “You can all go and abandon me, but I’d sooner stay here by myself and do my own hunting.”

  “Dog, if you think you’re skinny now,” snorted Cal with laughter, “that ain’t nothing like you’d be after a few risings of getting your own prey.”

  “I ain’t skinny,” protested Alicia. “I’m slender—there’s a difference, not that you’d know.”

  The Lady Magica brought common sense back to the discussion, as she often did.

  “Tazar,” she said, “it seems to me that it’s none too safe around here anyway, and it’s only going to get more difficult the longer we stay here. If this new park lets us live like we used to, wouldn’t it be worth getting the danger over in one go rather than have it every day of our lives?”

  “If that were the case, my lady,” answered Tazar, “then you might be right. The problem is that we don’t know what this new park’s like. Even the street hound that Waggit’s been talking to hasn’t been there, and on top of that we don’t know what he’s like either. There’s too much about the whole deal that’s unknown.”

  “There’s one way to find out, boss,” said Lowdown, “and that’s to talk to this dog. See what you think of him. We all know what a good talker you are.”

  There were some muffled snorts among the team at the last part of this remark. Tazar chose to ignore them.

  “I’d talk to anyone who lets us use his feeder,” said Gordo, who had suffered most during this time of shortage.

  Tazar was silent. The dogs knew that he was having a private conversation in his head. There was no point in interrupting him until it was over.

  “I think Gordo’s right,” he finally said.

  Gordo sat up and cocked his head in amazement. It was a phrase he rarely heard.

  “The dog,” Tazar continued, “was good enough to let us use part of his realm. It was an act of generosity toward brothers and sisters he didn’t know, and that alone makes it worthwhile talking to him. Can you arrange a meeting, Waggit?”

  “Easily,” said Waggit. “This rising’s the last claw on my paw. He’ll be at the feeder tonight waiting for our answer.”

  “Then it’s settled,” said Tazar. “Tonight we will talk.”

  6

  Tazar Meets Beidel

  Tazar had decided that he would take Waggit, Cal, and Raz with him to the meeting with Beidel. He would have liked to have the wise advice of Lowdown, but the journey was too difficult for his arthritic limbs. Besides, Tazar had come to rely on Waggit’s judgment more and more. Waggit didn’t have the experience that the older dog had acquired over many years of life in the park, but he was smart and generally had good instincts. Cal and Raz were included in the party mainly as bodyguards. Both were agile and strong and knew how to handle themselves when in trouble, mostly because they often were.

  The dogs had to travel late at night, when there was the least traffic and fewest people on the streets, and while not completely safe, the journey was less dangerous at that hour. Waggit tried to doze beforehand, but he was too wound up. This would be a momentous event in the life of the team, whatever Tazar decided to do. So he lay there with his head on his paws, sighing occasionally for no particular reason. His place for sleeping in the pipe was at the farthest end from the entrance, near where it ran out into a pool of water. He watched the moonlight glitter on the ripples of water caused by the gentle breeze that also ruffled his fur. A spidery pattern of reflections played constantly on the roof of the pipe. It was the perfect place for free dogs to live, he thought, if only people would leave them alone.

  Suddenly he heard a low growl.

  “Waggit, Cal, Raz, time to move out.”

  It was Tazar trying to whisper and not disturb the entire team. He needn’t have bothered, because everyone was as wound up and awake as Waggit—except for Alicia, who could have slept through a major earthquake in the unlikely event of one hitting New York City. As the four dogs prepared to leave, the others called out “Good luck” and “Safe travels.” Even Gruff muttered that they might as well try. He wasn’t optimistic about their chances of success but figured that if they got caught, he could have Waggit’s spot in the pipe.

  As they left the park, they were heartened by the fact that this seemed to be an unusually quiet night. A few yellow taxis trolled for the occasional late-night passenger, and the only other vehicles on the road were newspaper trucks delivering the day’s news to stores around the city. They got to the alley behind the Chinese restaurant without incident and were surprised to find that nobody was there. They nervously waited, and leaped to attention several times when a plastic bag was blown along the street and once when a cat scurried past.

  “Are you sure you have the same amount of claws on your paw as the rest of us?” Tazar asked Waggit.

  “I think so,” said Waggit, looking at them. They all compared paws and decided that Waggit’s were no different from any other dog’s.

  Suddenly the hairs on their backs stood up. They smelled animals approaching, then saw three dogs walking casually down the alley toward them. Beidel was in front, accompanied by two others Waggit had never seen. Beidel walked straight up to Tazar.

  “You must be the leader,” he said. “What is your name?”

  “My name,” replied Tazar with the same quiet dignity, “is Tazar, and yours is Beedle, I believe.”

  “Beidel,” said the other. “Rhymes with idle, but that’s where the similarity begins and ends.”

  “I apologize,” said Tazar.

  “Think nothing of it.”

  Waggit was getting agitated during this exchange. If it took them this long to establish their names, it would be daylight before any discussions began.

  “Allow me to introduce my chief lieutenants,” Beidel continued. “This is Dragoman and this is Cicero. Both are skilled in guiding dogs to safety.”

  The dogs looked as if they were skilled in fighting as well. They carried the scars from past battles, and showed the same quiet self-assurance as their leader. Tazar introduced his three companions, and then they finally got down to the matter at hand.

  “I understand from this young dog here,” said Beidel, nodding toward Waggit, “that your living situation has become difficult.”

  “It’s the Uprights,” growled Tazar. “It’s always the Uprights. They cannot tolerate anything they cannot control, and free dogs are intolerable to them.”

  “It has always been so,” said Beidel. “We live among them more than you do, but we have adapted to their ways.”

  “We have as well, wherever possible,” agreed T
azar, “but when their ways take the very food upon which you survive, or when their ways trap you and take you to the Great Unknown, then you cannot adapt. Aside from your generosity in lending us this feeder, we have very little food. Unless we can resolve our problems soon, we will starve.”

  “Are you willing to consider any other options?” asked Beidel.

  “Consider, yes,” Tazar answered. “I am a dog of action, but also careful in my actions. I will not expose my team to reckless danger.”

  “Very noble,” said Beidel. “But in these matters there is a level of risk you have to accept. My team has saved many dogs from circumstances far worse than yours, and we can do the same for you if you trust us.”

  “What is your plan?” Tazar asked.

  “Dragoman will explain,” Beidel replied.

  One of the two lieutenants stepped forward. He was a dog of medium build with a matted black and tan coat. His most noticeable features were his ears, which were long and drooped down either side of his head.

  “You are park dogs,” he began. “You could no more survive on the streets than we could in the woods. If you can’t stay where you are, you have to find another park. We think we know of one that would suit your needs.”

  “Think?” said Tazar. “I don’t like that word. How can we be sure?”

  “If certainty is what you demand, then go back to your park and starve,” Beidel interrupted irritably. “We have no plans that are based on certainty.”

  “While we never venture into parks,” Dragoman continued, “we know loners who do, and they tell us of one on the far Goldenside near the Wide Flowing Water that sounds right. It is wooded, has many small animals, a couple of feeders, and water. Best of all, it’s on a hill and easily defended.”

  “Are there other teams that live there now?” asked Tazar.

  “Not that we know of,” replied Dragoman.

  “And how would we get there?” asked Tazar. “We are a large team.”

  The third Ductor, Cicero, stepped forward. He was smaller than Dragoman, with a curly brown coat, and had only one eye, which stared back at them with frightening intensity.

  “First of all we will divide you into smaller groups,” he said. “We have many safe havens around the city, and a Ductor will take each group to one every rising. We travel only when it is safest, as it is now. During the rising you will sleep, and when the light goes, we travel again.”

  “How many risings will it take?” asked Tazar.

  “Three, maybe four,” said Cicero.

  Waggit had said nothing at this point, but now he stepped forward beside Tazar.

  “One of our members is old,” he said, “and it’s very hard for him to move. How will he travel such distances?”

  “You may have to leave him,” said Beidel. “A burden like that makes the whole group more vulnerable.”

  “In that case I’ll stay with him,” Waggit said. “We’ll live together in the park the best we can.”

  “No,” Tazar assured him. “Either we all go or none of us do.” He turned once more to face Beidel. “Tell me, friend, why would you and your team help us like this? What’s in it for you?”

  “It’s what we do and always have done,” Beidel replied. “It’s our purpose, and a team with a purpose is a stronger team. Besides which”—he smiled wryly—“it’s the only way I can get you to stop stealing our food.”

  “You’ve given us much to think about,” said Tazar, “and to discuss with the other members of our team. Although I’m their leader and it’s my decision, I would not make up my mind without hearing them out. Can we meet again in two risings?”

  “No,” said Beidel, “I need your decision in one. There are many others in need besides you. If you’re not here in one, we withdraw the offer and defend the feeder.”

  “You’re a hard dog, Beidel,” said Tazar.

  “These are hard times,” replied Beidel, and without saying another word, he and his two cohorts disappeared into the night.

  Pausing only to gather as much Chinese food as possible, the Tazarians made their way back to the park. They arrived at the clearing by the pipe’s entrance just as the first glow of dawn was lighting up the sky.

  Even with four dogs carrying all they could, the meal was unsatisfying, and soon they all felt hungry again. Tazar had forbidden any discussion of the meeting until he addressed the group himself. This he did as soon as everyone had finished eating.

  “Gather round, gather round,” he said, although they already were. He waited until he got their attention, which didn’t take long. Then he outlined to them what had happened during the encounter with the Ductors. He explained the plan, its dangers, the possible outcomes, and the reasons for considering such a move in the first place. Waggit was impressed by the way he presented every aspect of the situation clearly and without bias, even though he knew that the leader had strong reservations.

  “What it comes down to,” Tazar concluded, “is this: Can we continue to live in the Deepwoods, or is it just going to be too hard? And if we have to move, do we trust the Ductors? We have to do this knowing that there will be no going back. As soon as we’re out of here another team, probably the Olangsters, will take over our realm. This is forever.”

  As he finished speaking, an anxious murmur went through the dogs like a long collective growl. They all knew that this was probably the most serious decision any of them would make in their lives. Then the questions started coming, fast and furious.

  “How long will we be traveling?”

  “Where will we sleep?”

  “Are there many Ruzelas in the new park?”

  “How do we eat?”

  “Will we all be together?”

  Tazar noticed that all the questions were about the journey and the new location; none of them focused on what would happen if they stayed where they were. This gave him the answer he had been looking for. The team knew that life in the Deepwoods was about to become intolerable and realized that moving was the only option. It would be tough, but somehow they would do it. His biggest fear was that the new park would be as bad as the situation they were leaving, or worse. Experience had taught him that risk was a constant part of life, especially for free dogs, and his job as a leader was to make sure that the outcome was worth the danger. He instinctively trusted Beidel, and Tazar was a dog who had learned to listen to his instincts.

  Waggit was sent at the appointed time to tell the Ductors that the Tazarians agreed to follow their plan. Beidel nodded when he heard their decision. He told Waggit to have the team assembled by the park entrance halfway up the Goldenside on the following night. He also ordered Dragoman and Cicero to take as much food for the Tazarians from the restaurant’s trash cans as they could carry, so that the team would start out the journey without completely empty stomachs.

  The two Ductors refused to come inside the park but left the food they were carrying just inside the gray stone wall that marked its boundary. Waggit was amazed that animals who seemed as tough and self-assured as these two should be nervous of trees and grass, until he remembered how edgy Cal and Raz had been on the city’s streets. He said good-bye to the Ductors and told them he looked forward to seeing them the next day, though this was an exaggeration. While he thought that the move was the right thing to do, the journey wasn’t something he was looking forward to.

  7

  The Sad Farewell

  The following night the team assembled behind some large rhododendron bushes near the entrance to the park, where they had arranged to meet the Ductors. They remained hidden because Tazar was still wary. He believed Beidel was trustworthy, but he was not too proud to realize he might be wrong. There was no reason to take chances if you didn’t have to.

  The weather had become hot and humid, and they could hear the low rumble of thunder, as if the elements disapproved of the journey they were about to take. The electricity the storm generated made their coats tingle and prickle, increasing the nervousness and disc
omfort that they were feeling. Even Tazar had been known to flinch when a flash of lightning came close. Of all the dogs, only Gordo was unaffected by thunderstorms. Alicia was sure this was due to his lack of breeding, although he was no less well bred than any of the others.

  This was a difficult time for all of them, and not just because of the hazards they would face. Except for Waggit, even those who weren’t born there had never been outside the park after they were first abandoned. They knew that this would be the last time they would see the place that had been their home for as long as they could remember, and they felt a deep sadness at saying good-bye.

  Four dogs approached the park entrance: Dragoman, Cicero, and two others they hadn’t seen before. One, a female, had a loping stride that indicated a German shepherd was somewhere in her family tree. The other was a medium-size dog with a wiry coat that looked as if a hurricane had just blown through where he was standing. His fur stood up at a variety of different angles, which would have been funny if not for his stern appearance. This dog was all business: alert, focused, and tense. The Tazarians held their breath, waiting to see what the Ductors would do. The wirehaired dog lifted his head, his nose twitching in the air. He said something to his companions that the Tazarians couldn’t hear, and then the four of them approached the bushes that concealed the team.

  When Tazar realized their hiding place had been discovered, he emerged from it, with the rest of the team behind him. Dragoman nodded to him in greeting.

  “You’re cautious,” he said. “I like that. It’s a quality that will come in handy before this journey’s over.”

  “And beyond,” Tazar assured him.

  “Beyond’s none of my business,” Dragoman said. “I’ll take care of the journey; and that,” he continued, looking around the team, “is more than enough for me. We never moved this many dogs before.”

  “They’re good dogs,” said Tazar. “Smart and sensible. They learn quickly too. They won’t give you any trouble.”