by Peter Howe
Since the answer to this question was no, Alicia remained sulkily silent. All the other dogs had now gathered around Waggit, interested in what he was saying.
“When I first joined this team,” he continued, “Tazar told me that we controlled our own destinies, that the whole point of being a free dog was taking charge of your life and living it as best you could without being pushed around by others, whether they were Uprights or other dogs. If you believe your life is being ruled by a curse, aren’t you giving up that freedom? If some stories told to you by a dog you don’t even know stop you from believing you can do anything you want, then what’s the point of being a free dog? Why not just become a Petulant? It’s a lot easier in many ways. Remember, I know.”
Waggit looked around. In front of him the entire team was looking up, hanging on his every word. They were literally looking up at him because, without even thinking about it, he was standing on a rock, just as Tazar did when he addressed the team. In fact Tazar was the only dog in the pack who wasn’t gathered around. He was standing a little way off next to Felicia, a look of pride on his face. Tazar knew that a great leader had to share power in order to strengthen it, and that the stability of a team depended upon having another dog ready to take over should anything happen to him. After the disappointment of his son’s betrayal he had put all his hopes in Waggit, and now he was seeing all his wishes coming true.
Waggit hadn’t meant to make a speech, but Alicia’s whiny comment had struck a nerve in him. The words of the Gray One were ringing in his head, and they had to come out.
“There are many things in our lives we can’t control. We can’t control the way Uprights behave, especially the Ruzelas. We can’t even stop Felicia going to South every Chill, and we can’t make the Long Cold go away. What we can control is our fear and our belief in ourselves, our ability to survive whatever we have to. We’ve overcome many obstacles in the past, and we’ll do so in the future, but only if we truly believe we can. I’ve been told that long before this hill was called Damnation Hill it went by the name Gray King Hill, and it was named after a very wise creature. So let’s celebrate the death of the Curse; let’s give our home back its old name, and forget it was ever called by another.”
The team broke out into an uproar of yips and howls, which is the closest dogs get to cheering. And as they did there was a loud clap of thunder above them, and it began to rain.
21
Life Is Good
And it rained; and it rained; and it rained. Waggit had never seen so much rain. For more than two days the dogs stayed in the cave, only venturing out to hunt or scavenge, neither of which produced much to eat. Their prey was staying at home until the storm abated, as were the visitors to the ball fields, so food was short. The dogs didn’t mind too much, because they knew the rain was needed to break the long drought. It was so torrential at times that Felicia abandoned her tent and moved into the cave. There was plenty of room, and it remained completely dry even during the most intense downpour. If the truth were told, they liked having her lanky figure sprawled out among them. The sound of her soft snoring lulled them to sleep each night, along with the constant sound of the rain.
Its patter became a backdrop of noise that they tuned out after the first few hours, but on the second day of the storm Gordo thought he heard another sound. He was on Eyes and Ears duty that night, guarding the mouth of the cave. Even to his simple brain this seemed unnecessary. It was unlikely that anyone would be out in such conditions, and even if they were, he would have difficulty seeing them through the torrents that fell and the mist they caused. But Tazar was strict about sentry duty and insisted that someone was posted at all times.
The sound Gordo could hear was water, but it was a different noise from that of the rain. He poked his head out of the cave in curiosity and was instantly soaked. He was not a dog bothered by discomfort, however, and he figured that if his head was wet, the rest of his body might as well be and went out into the meadow. It was pitch-black, but he walked in the direction of the sound and then fell with a loud splash into the previously empty rock pool. He sat there for a second before he realized that his head was being pounded by a constant flow of water. He got up and ran back into the cave, showering its occupants as he did, causing barks and growls as the previously dry, sleepy dogs became wet and awake.
“The spring!” he yelled. “The spring!”
“What about the spring?” someone mumbled grumpily.
“It’s running again!” cried Gordo. “It’s really running again.”
All the dogs ran out of the cave to see for themselves—well, actually not all of them. Alicia said she’d take their word for it. There were yelps of joy; their home was once again perfect, and they wouldn’t have to even think about moving. Their problems seemed over.
Except for one. The question of Alona’s recovery remained unresolved. The weather was so bad that it had prevented Felicia from leaving the hill to go to the animal hospital where their sister was being cared for.
“It’s okay,” she assured them. “Alan’s a good man, and he’ll make sure she gets everything she needs. We’ll find out soon enough, when the weather lifts.”
True to her word, when the rain finally stopped, she made her muddy way down the hill and disappeared into the surrounding city. As so often happens, the day after the storm was completely clear. The sky was that intense blue that comes only when the air is dry; the temperature was mild, and the sun was warm without becoming too uncomfortable. The dogs lay around contentedly grooming or napping, lulled by the comforting sound of water running into and out of the refilled pool. They all took turns drinking from it and declared it to be sweeter and more delicious than ever. Waggit and Lowdown lay next to each other in the meadow. Waggit chewed a stick, while Lowdown scratched under his chin.
“How come you know the hill was called Gray King Hill before it was called Damnation Hill?” Lowdown suddenly asked.
“Somebody told me,” Waggit answered.
“A dog somebody?” Lowdown continued.
“Sort of,” replied Waggit.
There was silence while Lowdown thought about this.
“Who was this sort of dog who told you?” he asked after a couple of minutes.
“Just somebody I met,” Waggit replied.
“Where’d you meet him?” Lowdown was relentless.
“Will you stop?” cried Waggit. “It was just somebody I met.”
Another silence followed.
“It was a Gray One, wasn’t it?” said Lowdown eventually.
“What makes you say that?”
“’Cause you asked about whether I believed in them and ’cause only Gray Ones can remember far enough back to know what this place was called before,” Lowdown said.
“The fact of the matter is,” replied Waggit, “I don’t know if I met him or not. If I did, it was twice, but each time it seemed like a dream.”
“That’s how it is with Gray Ones, or so I’ve been told,” said Lowdown. “I’ve never met one myself, but I’d like to before I die.”
“You wouldn’t want to meet this one, not where he lives,” Waggit assured him. “He’s in the forest way up the hill, and even I found it a tough climb. You might want to see one before you die, but you wouldn’t want to die doing it.”
“No, I suppose you’re right.” Lowdown sighed. “That’s the problem with having old, short legs.”
“Well, you never know,” said Waggit, trying to console his friend. “In the future you may be fit enough to get there.”
“Waggit,” said the old dog, “most of my future’s behind me. I ain’t ever gonna be fitter than I am right now. Still, it would’ve been nice to see one. Not many dogs do, you know—in fact there’s some who’ll tell you they don’t exist at all.”
“Well, I think this one exists,” Waggit assured his friend. “It’s strange, though—he lives by himself and looks quite old. I suppose he still hunts, but I’ve never seen him out.”
“Maybe they ain’t like us,” said Lowdown. “Maybe they don’t need food.”
“It’s a possibility,” Waggit agreed, and went back to chewing his stick. The good thing about stick chewing was that it cleared the mind and stimulated thought. Waggit considered what Lowdown had said—if he really wanted to see the Gray One but was unable to make the journey up the hill, maybe Waggit could persuade the wolf to come down and visit Lowdown. Although the Gray One didn’t look much like a visiting kind of an animal, it might be worth a try. He decided to go back to the forest at the first possible opportunity.
But all plans to do anything were put on hold by the joyful return of Felicia and Alona later that afternoon. Alona was still very weak, and it had taken them a long time to walk from the animal hospital back to the meadow, but she was looking much better than the day she left. Alan, the veterinarian, had told Felicia that he had no idea what the cause of the illness was, but he suspected it was some sort of a virus. The dogs had no idea what a virus was but vowed to be on the lookout for any others and to bite them at first sight. Whatever the reason for her sickness, time and Alan’s treatment seemed to have done the trick, and he had declared her well enough to return home. Had he known where she lived, he might have been more reluctant to release her from his care. Alona was happy to be back with her brothers and sisters, and said that their company was the best medicine she could possibly have. The dogs wanted to know about everything that had happened to her in the hospital.
“Well,” she said shyly, “when I first got there, I felt so sick that I really didn’t know what was happening. All I knew was that Dr. Alan kept poking me and sticking things in me, and I would have been afraid if it hadn’t been for Felicia being there all the while.”
“Same thing happened to me,” said Tazar, who preferred the spotlight to be on him. “He stuck huge things in me. I wasn’t afraid, of course,” he added, in case the thought had crossed anyone’s mind. Felicia thought it better not to mention the terrible yelping noise Tazar had made every time a needle came near him.
“When Felicia left I was a bit scared,” Alona continued, “because I’d never been inside an Upright’s den before, but all the Uprights who were there were very kind to me. There was one who reminded me of Tazar because she was bossy, and her coat was the same color, but she was very gentle and nice.”
“Oh, her,” said Tazar. “Yes, she was my favorite.”
“I liked Dr. Alan the best,” said Alona. “He’s so kind and he has very soft, warm paws.”
“Yes,” agreed Tazar, “he’s a good guy. I’d go back to him anytime.”
By now the team was getting used to Tazar’s conversion to a “people-friendly” dog, but this seemed to be going a bit far even for him. That evening Felicia gave one of her celebratory feasts to mark the reunion of all the dogs in their new home. The first summer she had spent with the team, these banquets had been a frequent feature of life in the park. This year, because of her lack of money, she hadn’t been able to afford them. But to celebrate the return of Alona and the flowing of the spring, as well as Raz’s leg healing, she decided to splurge on a meal to remember. She went off to the market, and the dogs settled down to await her return. Toward the end of the afternoon they heard her before they saw her—humming tunelessly, as she often did. Then her head popped up above the edge of the meadow, followed by arms laden with plastic bags from which delicious smells wafted.
It was quite dark by the time she had assembled the food. Unlike their former home, this park had no lights illuminating the pathways, and although the city itself gave off a glow, in the meadow it was too black to see very much. Gordo always said you didn’t have to see food in order to eat it, but Felicia had decided to buy some candles to help the diners anyway, and to stop Alicia, the other chowhound in the team, from stealing her neighbor’s food under the cover of darkness. Most of the dogs had never seen candles, and they were greeted with “oohs” and “aahs” as if they were the latest in modern technology.
The team thought the meal was excellent, being the usual mixture of dog and human food that Felicia put together so deftly. There were wooden skewers of slightly charred meat that she dished out one to a dog, with the skewers removed of course. She had also purchased some chorizo sausages with a wonderful smoky flavor and cans of the dog food that Tazar had liked so much during his stay in the hospital. In addition to all this, there were several different kinds of ham, rawhide chews, and crunchy dog biscuits. You could always tell the success of a meal by the lack of conversation that accompanied it. If Gruff wasn’t complaining about how food didn’t taste like it used to or Tazar wasn’t sermonizing about the superiority of dogs, then you knew that the provisions were pretty good. Tonight the only sounds to be heard were chewing, the smacking of lips, and the occasional, but discreet, belch or hiccup.
Waggit paused in eating his own meal and looked around at Felicia and the dogs in the warm, flickering light of the candles. A mushy feeling of affection came over him, causing a smile to flicker over his lips as he observed their various quirks and characters. That he loved all of them was without question, even Alicia and Gruff. But there was one who would always be his special friend. He watched Lowdown as he tried to get the better of a large piece of rawhide. His old teeth were having difficulty chewing it, and every so often he would shake it ferociously in his jaws as if it wasn’t quite dead. At that moment Waggit became even more determined that if his old friend wanted to see a Gray One before he died, he would do everything in his power to make it happen.
22
Brown One Meets Gray One
The morning after the feast Waggit slipped away from the team unnoticed and made his way back up the hill. The path was familiar to him by now, although it wasn’t any easier to climb because of this. When he finally saw the forest, he was panting, because the day had become unusually warm again. He resisted the temptation to quench his thirst in the pool he now knew was there and headed straight into the forest. At least it looked like the forest from the outside, as black and foreboding as ever; but when he entered it, there appeared to be a change that was slight but still perceptible. It was neither quite as dark nor as cold as he remembered it. Sunlight shone in dappled patches, and the leaf canopy didn’t look as all-encompassing as before.
There was no sign of the Gray One anywhere, nor was there any evidence that such a creature had ever roamed these parts. In fact one thing that Waggit did notice was the presence of many small animals, something he realized had been missing from his previous visit. He tracked back and forth, using his nose to try to detect a smell, his eyes on the lookout for broken branches or flattened foliage, anything that would indicate the existence of a large wolf, but there was nothing. He had no idea how long he kept this up, but it was some time before he finally accepted that the Gray One wasn’t there, if he ever had been. Maybe the dogs who said there was no such thing were right and Waggit had imagined him. But he hadn’t imagined the Gray One. He had seen him and spoken to him, and yet he still wasn’t sure such a creature existed. It was all very confusing.
It was in this perplexed state of mind that he began to make his way back down the hill. He always found going down more difficult than going up, and today was no different. It was almost as if the tree roots and ferns were trying to trip him up; but he wasn’t in a hurry, so he took his time getting back home. The deer path dropped sharply as it passed by the meadow’s outer edge, causing him to run down the last few feet. What he saw then stopped him dead.
On the far side Felicia and most of the rest of the team were gathered around something or someone lying on the ground. Waggit’s heart froze, because he knew exactly what they were looking at—it was Lowdown, and he wasn’t moving. Waggit raced over to the worried onlookers. When he got a closer look at Lowdown, his first emotion was one of relief—he clearly wasn’t dead. He was just lying there unable to get up, but there was a peaceful feeling about him, not one of distress. Waggit turned to Felici
a and Tazar, who were standing next to each other in the group, clearly concerned like the rest.
“What happened?” he panted.
“It was weird,” said Tazar. “Lowdown suddenly got up and moved here to the edge of the woods, where he never usually goes. I was watching him, and it was almost like he was talking to somebody, but no one was there. Then suddenly he fell over on his side, and when we got to him, he was fast asleep. He only just woke up.”
Waggit gently pushed everyone back to give Lowdown as much air as possible, and then went up to the old dog and looked at him in the face.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m beyond okay,” Lowdown replied. “I’ll always be grateful to you for sending the Gray One to me. He is truly awesome.”
“You saw the Gray One?” Waggit asked incredulously.
“I sure did,” replied Lowdown. “He was in the woods just over there. He told me you sent him.”
“He did?” Waggit asked even more incredulously.
“Yeah,” said Lowdown. “He said you told him I wanted to see a Gray One before I died.”
“I did?” Waggit gasped.
“Waggit,” said Lowdown, now completely awake, “are you having difficulty understanding me today? Ain’t I using language what makes sense?”
“No—I mean yes—I mean, I’m just surprised he came so quickly,” Waggit replied, trying to cover his confusion the best he could. “What did you talk about?”
“Oh, this and that,” said Lowdown. “Birth, death, and the things in between.”
“How long was he here?” asked Waggit.
“You know, that was the strange thing,” Lowdown replied. “I really couldn’t say. It was like time stood still—actually more like it didn’t exist at all. Then all of a sudden I felt incredibly tired, and the next thing I know, everyone’s staring at me like I died or something. But I ain’t, as you can see.” Indeed, the old dog seemed rejuvenated by the experience.