Waggit Forever

by Peter Howe

  “Would this park be a possibility for us?” inquired Waggit. “Is there anything wrong with it?”

  “In a word, Stoners and Skurdies,” said Pilodus, although of course these were three words. “The Skurdies ain’t so bad if you leave them alone, but Stoners…well, you must know about Stoners.”

  The park dogs knew far too much about Stoners, especially in the Deepwoods, where many of them hung out. They were gangs of young men, bored and ready to harass anything that lived there. They mostly tormented homeless people, known to the dogs as Skurdies, or the dogs themselves, especially loners. They were called Stoners because rocks were their favorite weapons, but sometimes they also carried knives, and they had been known to kill animals with them. They were a very good reason not to live here.

  “Oh well,” said Waggit, “I guess we have to keep on going, then. How far is the haven from here?”

  “It’s not far,” said Cicero. “The others are already settled in for the night. We’ll get there soon.”

  They followed a narrow paved footpath that wound down a hill. To make things easier, Lowdown got off the skateboard and walked while Little One carried it in his mouth. None of the Tazarians were prepared for what happened next. When they came to the crest of the hill, they were met with a sight that took their breath away. It was a river, bigger than anything any of them had ever seen. The moonlight reflected off its surface, making it look like polished steel, and on its far bank thousands of lights twinkled, as if it wore a jeweled crown. It was so monumental and magnificent that none of the dogs could speak, and Little One dropped the skateboard with a clatter as his jaw fell open. The streams in the park were nothing compared to this. Waggit, during his adventures in the world outside, had seen rivers, but even the biggest one was just a dribble compared to this awesome expanse of water.

  “What,” he asked in a hushed voice, “is that?”

  “That?” replied Pilodus in a matter-of-fact voice. “Oh, that’s the Wide Flowing Water. It’s evil.”

  “How can something so beautiful be evil?” asked Little Two.

  “It’s not like any other water,” said Pilodus. “It has a force that lives within it and sucks you down and drags you many realms away. Whatever you do, never swim in it. Dogs have tried, but none ever returned. Don’t even drink it. If you do, you’ll go mad.”

  Pilodus’s warning sounded terrifying. Lowdown tried to change the subject.

  “What’s on the other side?” he asked, looking at the sparkling lights on the opposite bank.

  “Those are the Far Distant Territories. Nobody we know has ever been there, and nobody probably ever will,” answered Pilodus. Without another word he took the path that headed north. The dogs followed him, with Lowdown back on his board, watching the majestic river and the looming black barges. The park now narrowed to the point where it was really only the path they were on, with the river on their left and the highway to the right. The dogs stayed on the paved path for some time until it suddenly ended.

  A short distance in front of them was the wall of a large building that jutted out over the water on thick concrete columns. A vague rumbling hum of machinery could be heard from within. Where the sidewalk ended, a path veered off to its left over the grassy embankment in the direction of the overhanging construction. If you were a human being, you would never have known of its existence, but the dogs could smell the presence of others who had passed along it. It ran toward the river, but just before reaching the water, it ascended steeply over some rocks and under the canopy of the building. The dogs scrambled up, and where it flattened out, they came upon a huge area completely covered and sheltered from the weather. Here they found the rest of their group happily tucked away, either snoozing or grooming.

  This haven was a major improvement over the previous night’s shelter. It was immense, running the full length of the building, and could have held twenty times their team with room to spare. The trash cans of the adjacent park held a convenient and, at this time of year, constant supply of food, so much that the Ductors didn’t even bother to have a stash but would just forage every evening for their dinner. In fact the other Tazarians had already eaten, but the haven’s receptor, a shy female with whom Alona had already bonded, assured them that she had saved them a meal.

  Clear water ran from a pipe that stuck out of the ground, and Waggit, who was feeling ferociously thirsty, went up and sniffed it.

  “It’s okay,” said the receptor in a soft voice. “It’s perfectly safe to drink.”

  The first haven’s drinking arrangements had consisted of an old white plastic bucket that caught the rain. Even though the storm that night had filled it up, the water still tasted funny and had a chemical tang to it. Waggit cheerfully stuck his snout into the stream coming out of the pipe; but he underestimated the force of it and nearly drowned without ever going near the Wide Flowing Water. He spluttered and sneezed and shook his head.

  “Oh no,” sympathized the receptor. “I should have told you about that. You have to be very careful and just drink from the edges. It’s also easier if you don’t try to get it right where it comes out of the pipe.”

  He soon got the hang of it and was happily lapping away prior to eating his meal. The food was delicious as well, but not because it included slices of fine roast beef or aged porterhouse steaks, neither of which Waggit had ever tasted anyway. It was good because it was the same as the food they used to forage in their park during better times, before they were forced into the Deepwoods End. It seemed that humans threw away similar fare wherever they were, and as he bit into a discarded pretzel covered in mustard, his nose tingled and it brought back happy memories.

  When he finished the meal, he licked his lips and paws and let out a sigh of contentment. The haven was safe and comfortable, and his group, the part of the team for whom he was responsible, looked relaxed and happy. Magica was grooming Little Two, which she had done since he and Little One were found abandoned in a box on one cold winter’s morning. Little One, the more independent of the two brothers, was listening with fascination to a heated conversation between Cicero and Pilodus. Lowdown was explaining to Gordo how you balanced on a skateboard. He did this with the air of an expert, even though it had been only a couple of hours since he had mastered it himself. From the nervous expression on the big dog’s face, Gordo seemed to think it a skill he was unlikely to ever possess. Alona and the receptor were huddled in a corner whispering to each other. Waggit had no idea what they were talking about, and realized he would never know what they were talking about. It had already occurred to him that receptors were the closest thing to loners in the world of the Ductors.

  He looked at these animals with immense fondness, but he realized that his relationship to them had changed. The sense of responsibility he felt toward them was new and both exciting and scary at the same time. It was something he had never asked for or even dreamed of, and in fact when Tazar had designated him as his successor, he had been the one most surprised of the whole team. He noticed that they had also changed in the way they reacted to him. They now deferred to him more than before, and accepted his decisions without question, except, of course, for Lowdown, who accepted nobody’s decisions without question, not even Tazar’s. In fact the old dog now played the same role for Waggit as he had for Tazar—that of a wise counselor.

  One by one the dogs settled down for the night, which, of course, was actually the day in their new schedule. Waggit missed seeing sunlight, and was looking forward to being in green places under blue skies once more. Nevertheless he slept well until Cicero woke him several hours later.

  “Waggit,” he said. “Time to move on. Let’s get the group together.”

  Waggit was reluctant to leave this safe place and face the uncertainties of the journey, but he was also looking forward to being reunited with Tazar and the rest of his friends. Cicero had told him that the two parts of the team would come together again at the next haven, which, if all went well, would be the f
inal stop before reaching the new park. So he got up and started to nudge his sleepy companions with his nose. One by one they sprang into wakefulness, and after drinking water and taking care of some casual grooming, they were ready to leave. Little One, who had taken on the role of keeper of the skateboard, grasped it in his mouth and took it back to the flat surface of the blacktopped path. Lowdown followed him, hobbling painfully over the rocks.

  The haven had one disadvantage—it was at the end of a dead-end path. While this added to the security of the location, it also meant that the dogs had to retrace their steps in order to get back under the highway that bordered it. But the night was pleasant; the humidity had dropped, and a soft breeze came off the river, ruffling the dogs’ coats. With Pilodus in the lead, they came to where the park broadened out. Just before they were about to make a left turn and follow the path under the highway, Waggit stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Wait,” he said to Pilodus. He turned to Magica. “Do you smell that?” he asked her.

  “Can it be?” she said. “Could she really be back?”

  “I think I smell her,” Alona chimed in.

  “Me…,” said Little One.

  “…too,” added Little Two, although the pair had no idea what the other dogs were talking about.

  Cicero joined them from his tail-end position in the group.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “We think we smell a friend,” answered Waggit.

  Cicero lifted his head, his nose twitching as it picked up the scents that flowed into it.

  “The only dogs I smell here are the ones in our group,” he said, “especially Gordo.”

  Had he been able to, Gordo would have blushed at hearing this. He was not known to have the highest standards of personal hygiene.

  “No,” Waggit assured Cicero, “this isn’t a dog; it’s an Upright.”

  Cicero and Pilodus looked at each other in alarm.

  “An Upright?” said Pilodus in astonishment. “You’re friends with an Upright?’

  “If you find that surprising,” said Waggit, “wait until you meet her, if it is her.”

  Leaving the two Ductors in a state of confusion, Waggit and Magica cautiously moved forward, following their noses toward the place where the park dropped sharply down to the river. As they came to the verge, they saw it—the familiar tent that had been hidden within the cover of a willow tree in the park the previous summer. It was now pitched on a shallow plateau between the park and the water’s edge. Quivering with excitement, Magica was poised to run toward it, but Waggit restrained her with his shoulder.

  “Better to be a little cautious,” he warned her, and then the two of them moved slowly forward in a low-slung, crouching position, almost as if they were tracking prey. As they got closer, their noses detected the smell they were hoping for, and their ears picked up the memorable sound of soft snoring, almost like a cat’s purr. Unable to restrain herself any longer, Magica let out a howl of joy.

  “Felicia!” she cried.

  11

  Danger at Night

  A scuffling, grunting noise came from the interior of the tent, followed by a muffled “Magica? Is that you?” Then they heard the sound of zipper being unfastened, and out of one end of the tent a disheveled and sleepy head emerged. It was that of a middle-aged woman whose voice and manner seemed to suggest a privileged background at odds with her tousled appearance. Before she could get any more of her body out of the tent, Magica was all over her, wagging her tail and licking the woman’s face, ears, and hair in an expression of pure joy.

  “Oh my goodness,” spluttered the woman. “It’s good to see you too, but let me get out of here so that I can take a look at you.”

  Waggit seemed thrilled to see the human as well; his whole body rippled with excitement, and the thick, oversize tail for which he was named beat the air frantically.

  “Felicia,” he cried, “I thought we’d never see you again!”

  “And why did you think that?” Felicia asked. “Didn’t I tell you when I left last fall that I’d be back in the summer? Didn’t you trust me?”

  “But with the move and everything, and not being able to leave word for you, I thought you would never find us if—I mean when you returned,” he said.

  By this time Felicia had emerged like a gigantic stick insect coming out of a cocoon. When she stretched to her full height, she was very tall and skinny, but these were not the things about her you noticed first. She wore an extraordinary combination of clothes, including the largest pair of shorts ever made. They came down well below her knees and went almost up to her armpits, and were held up by two head scarves, one bright red and one citrus green, that functioned as make-do suspenders. The combination of these and the pair of gigantic work boots on her feet made her look like a very underfed clown. She also had on yellow tights with black polka dots, and the whole outfit was topped off with a shawl made of antique lace that looked quite valuable, and as if it had been in her family for a long time. She looked lovingly at the dogs who now surrounded her—all except for Cicero and Pilodus, who stood to one side, confused as to what was happening.

  “Well,” she said, with a twinkle in her eyes, “you guys don’t make it easy for a woman to find you, but I’m glad I did. I think I must have been to every park in Manhattan.”

  “We’re sorry, Felicia,” said Magica. “We wouldn’t have caused you so much trouble, but we honestly never thought you would come back. You see, we don’t have much experience with Uprights keeping their promises.”

  “Well, I’m one who always will,” Felicia assured her.

  At this point a low growl came out of Cicero’s throat.

  “Waggit,” he said, “can we have a word?’

  Waggit went over to the two puzzled Ductors. He had a smile on his face as he approached them, because he knew exactly what was coming next.

  “Waggit,” said Cicero, “is it my mistake, or are you carrying on a conversation with that Upright?”

  “Oh yes,” Waggit replied innocently. “We’ve known her for some time. She’s an old friend.”

  “Whether you know her or not isn’t my point,” said Cicero. “My point is that you understand what she says and she understands what you say.”

  “Oh yes,” repeated Waggit. “It’s so much easier to have a conversation that way.”

  “But she’s an Upright!” barked Cicero in frustration. “And Uprights don’t understand us—it’s a well-known fact!”

  “Well, this one’s different,” said Waggit. “You’ll never meet another Upright like Felicia, trust me.”

  “Where did you meet her?” inquired Pilodus.

  “It’s a long story,” Waggit replied. “I’d escaped from a place many realms from here, much farther than we’ve gone so far. I was alone and trying to get back to the park, when I came across her living in her cloth den. I was as surprised as you are that she knew how to talk to dogs, but she told me that she learned it from a very old Upright—a female—when she was young. We traveled back to the park together. Actually,” he admitted, “I don’t think I would’ve made it without her. She stayed with us until the chill and then went somewhere called South, where it’s warmer, because she can’t stand the long cold.”

  “But do you trust her?” asked Cicero.

  “More than you,” said Waggit. “And that doesn’t mean I don’t trust you either. It just means that she’s never let me down, or any of the team.”

  Cicero and Pilodus looked unconvinced.

  “Come on,” said Waggit, “let me introduce you.”

  The Ductors warily followed Waggit to where Felicia was standing.

  “I’d like you to meet Cicero and Pilodus,” said Waggit. “They’re members of the Ductors, and they’re the ones who are helping us get to the new park. Without them we wouldn’t have got this far.”

  “Cicero and Pilodus from the Ductors,” Felicia repeated with a smile. “How very Roman. Is your leader named Caesar?�
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  Felicia often said things that the dogs didn’t understand. The Tazarians were so used to it that they ignored her when it happened, but Cicero and Pilodus became even more perplexed.

  “No,” said Cicero. “He’s called Beidel.”

  “Well, I’m very pleased to meet you,” Felicia said warmly. “Thank you for taking care of my good friends.” She turned to Waggit and Magica. “Where is the rest of the team, by the way?”

  “We had to split up into two groups to make it easier and safer to travel,” Waggit explained. “But we’ll all be together again at the next haven.”

  “I can’t wait to see everyone else,” said Felicia. “That is, of course, if Cicero and Pilodus don’t mind me coming along for the ride.”

  The Ductors were still so bewildered that the only reaction Felicia got was a shrug of Pilodus’s shoulders. She took this to mean it was okay. She turned back to the Tazarians.

  “I was sorry to hear you had to leave the park,” she said. “It must have been awful to give up your realm, but it sounded like life was becoming impossible there.”

  “How did you hear about it?” asked Magica.

  “I came to find you in the Deepwoods,” she explained, “and when I saw that the Ruzelas had mended the pipe, I knew that you must’ve moved; a loner told me that you’d left the park altogether.”

  “The Ruzelas did what?” asked Waggit.

  “They mended the pipe,” said Felicia, “the one where you used to live. There was water flowing through it into the pool when I saw it. Wasn’t that why you moved?”

  “No, it wasn’t,” said Waggit, “but it would have been a really good reason to.”

  “Waggit,” said Cicero, “we’ve really got to get moving if we’re going to reach the haven before light. If you want this Upright to come with us, she should get her stuff together now.”

  “Of course,” said Felicia. “It’ll just take me two minutes.”

  The dogs had no idea how long two minutes was, but they assumed it wasn’t a very long period of time or Felicia wouldn’t have mentioned it. She quickly took down the tent, stowed it in its cover, packed her backpack, and was ready to go. They were a strange sight: a tall, skinny, strangely dressed woman accompanied by nine mixed-breed dogs, walking through the streets of New York in the early hours of the morning. The Ductors were wary of Felicia’s presence, and they moved nervously along the sidewalk. The dogs still had to observe the caution they had shown before a human was added to the group, and Felicia knew from her own experience that she would be considered a suspicious figure to any passing patrol car, even without the accompanying animals.