Let Slip the Pups of War: Spot and Smudge - Book Three

by Robert Udulutch

  He hadn’t noticed the pups had stopped on top of the snow bank. He also didn’t see them nodding to the shadows behind the barn. He didn’t catch the quickly approaching wall of brown, or hear them until the coyotes hit him from behind. They tumbled into the snow and he was immediately attacked by the four young wild dogs.

  One Ear, the female leader of the coyote pack, strolled up and stopped between the wagging Spot and Smudge. It had been almost a month since they’d seen her, and they happily accepted One Ear’s submissive chin rubs and licks. After a few moments of catching up the pups leaned inwards and pressed against the large, warm, fluffy coyote as they sat down on the bank together.

  The big female’s four young hunters, the ones now growling and nipping at Ben, had been born in the spring and would officially be yearlings in another month. They had stopped by the farm almost every day to pester Mimi when Ben and the pups were away. Even though she grumbled about their yapping and carrying on, it was usually while she was pulling playfully on their ears and feeding them biscuits. She had given them all names, mostly for scolding purposes when their alert little faces stared at her pen, even though she knew they wouldn’t dare challenge One Ear’s vow to leave her chickens alone.

  Mimi had dubbed the one girl coyote of the group Piff because she was, “Far prettier than you other three ruffians.” Piff was One Ear’s daughter and leader of the four young hunters. She was also the fastest dog in the den, and like her mother she was as sharp as she was strong.

  The other three juvenile hunters were littermate males, pups of the den’s other breeding female and the packs previous Alpha. Racket and Birl were almost identical twins, and they were a little darker and taller than their cousin Piff. Under aunty One Ear’s careful guidance they were quickly becoming powerful and capable hunters, like their father had been.

  Their little brother Lum was the runt of the litter. He had a slightly crooked rear paw and a deformed lip from a close encounter with a car. Even before his crippling accident the scrappy little dog had been relegated to perpetual guard duty with the den’s elderly coyotes, but he just wouldn’t give up on becoming a top hunter like his brothers and Piff. Every morning he had muscled his way into their training, ignoring their taunts and nips. He tried to keep pace with his siblings but as the team grew out of puppyhood One Ear’s strong students quickly left the slower Lum behind. Undaunted, the little wild dog would run back to the den and wait for the team to return. The next morning he’d start out with the student hunters all over again and keep up for as long as he could, even as One Ear nipped and scolded him to stay in the den.

  Lum had also lost one of his permanent canines in the car accident and he barked with a bit of a lisp. When Smudge first met the hobbling runt, and heard his raspy yap, she thought he might have been a little soft in the head. But she had also watched his relentless pursuit of his brothers and Piff, and thought he was one of the most tenacious little dogs she’d ever seen.

  After they had established One Ear as the female alpha Spot and Smudge were careful not to interfere with her running of the pack, but Smudge had made an exception with Lum. She came to the den early one morning just as One Ear was starting another day of training and performing her daily ritual of chastising Lum to stay behind.

  Smudge held the little wild dog back. The runt kicked and whined while the rest of the young hunters bounded off into the forest behind One Ear.

  Smudge shoved Lum into the woods. When they were alone she pumped herself up to full rippling muscle and pounced. She slapped him into the bushes and stood over the little dog, teeth bared and chest heaving as she stared down at him.

  Why don’t you just stay in the den like you’re told? Smudge asked, You’re no hunter. You have a role to play protecting the den. The world beyond The Bogs is far too dangerous a place for you. Do you want to get run over again? Stay home, runt.

  As Smudge went in for another hard poke to the ribs the little coyote feigned a snap to Smudge’s snout and dove under her. He bit down on her rear leg and spun with all his might, pulling Smudge down on top of him. As they fell together Lum kicked out hard, catching her hard under the chin. Before she could get her footing the runt had turned and darted off to chase after his brothers and Piff.

  Smudge wagged, and gave chase.

  As they shot through the brush Lum growled back at her, and Smudge was impressed with the clarity and range the little wild dog was able to convey, especially while at a flat run. It was obvious Lum had been closely watching the pups and One Ear communicate. You can’t keep me from being a hunter, Smudge interpreted from the runt as they dodged through the woods, I may not be as fast as Piff, or as strong as my brothers, but I’m smarter. One Ear can’t stop me, and neither can you!

  Smudge added a burst of speed and was on him in an instant. In one smooth movement she pawed him into a thicket and held him down. As Lum pounded on her strong forelimb Smudge said, So why don’t you just leave? Maybe you’d be a fine hunter for another den.

  Lum stopped struggling and after a long pause whined, I can’t leave.

  And why is that, little one? Smudge asked him.

  Lum stared at Smudge for a moment, and then produced a surprising array of physical and vocal expression. Glasgow, the gray wolf mother in Quebec had been the most articulate animal the pups had encountered, but this runt was a close second. Spot had accused Smudge of reading too much into her communication with other animals, but Smudge felt she was just more perceptive than her brother. She also felt Spot preferred talking to humans anyway.

  Because I’ve seen how you made One Ear better than she should be, Lum yapped, And I’ve seen what you and your brother can do. I was just a whelp when you two came into our den, but I remember what you did to our Alpha. I see how our pack is now with the humans, and like One Ear I understand the significance in a way the others don’t. I want to be a part of it. I want to be the best hunter this pack, or any pack, has ever seen. I can only do that here, with all of you as my Alphas.

  Smudge smiled down at the crafty, intelligent little coyote and removed her paw from his chest. She said, Wanting something isn’t enough, pup. You will have to work harder than the rest. They’ll fight you every step of the way, especially One Ear, and rightfully so as she has the whole pack to consider. A weak hunter exposes everyone, and I can’t let you jeopardize our family.

  Teach me, Lum snarled as he got up. He rubbed his nose under Smudge’s chin and said, I won’t let you down. I’ll show you, and them. I’ll earn my place. Give me one shot. If you say I’m not able to handle it then I’ll happily babysit the den forever.

  From that day forward the little runt was never more than a few steps away from Smudge whenever she was in the den. Smudge trained him for several weeks, and when she wasn’t around he went over and over the exercises she left for him.

  Smudge didn’t counter One Ear’s insistence that Lum still pull his share of guard duty so the runt ran on little sleep. Smudge snuck him extra food, and even added some of the supplements she’d taken when she had parvo as a pup. Working together they strengthened his rear legs enough to almost compensate for his bum paw.

  Smudge also started to work with Lum on his hunting skills and that’s when she noticed whatever the runt may be lacking in speed he made up for by immediately grasping anything she threw at him.

  She quickly saw the runt had been right. He was the smartest juvenile in the den.

  One Ear observed their progress and eventually agreed to him joining her training on a trial basis. She cut Lum no breaks, and he did indeed struggle, but the runt’s pig headed tenacity slowly overcame even the big female hunter’s tough skepticism.

  One Ear also noticed how smart the little dog was, and she began to appreciate how quickly he devised successful tactics for any test she challenged the team with. The other hunters were equally tough on Lum, but it didn’t take long before they began asking his opinion about strategy. In short order they started to follow his instruction
s.

  As Smudge watched the four young hunters playing with Ben now, several weeks later, she could see all of them were coordinating seamlessly. She also saw they had gone through their final growth spurt. The three larger hunters were now taller than her and Spot. By summer they would add more muscle and outweigh them by ten pounds.

  Lum had filled out instead of up, his neck and shoulders were thicker than the others and his bum back paw was barely noticeable.

  These hunters were also becoming much more refined in their attacks, and were far more accurate when they snapped. Smudge could tell the juveniles were careful to hold back when gnawing on Ben as their jaws could now deliver a deadly bite.

  Spot had been watching Ben and the young hunters carefully as well. The boy had spent the last few weeks sparing with hundred and fifty pound South African Boerboels and tough as nails Norwegian sled dogs. He was actually posing a bit of a challenge for these quick wild dogs. It was still play, but what had been simple rolling around with the four puppies before they went to Canada had turned into more serious games of attack and evade. It also included clear displays of dominance. Spot saw Ben understood it, and he was quick to overpower their growls and hold them down until they yapped an acceptance of his position. They were still wagging, and pouncing, and licking him, but they had quickly stopped openly challenging him.

  Spot saw One Ear had been keeping a close eye on the action, and he felt her shoulders relax as Ben reestablished his position without incident.

  Spot wondered if Aila and Mimi would see as much of a difference in their cunning boy after being away for just one month. He thought Mimi would for sure, she missed nothing.

  Smudge nodded as she read her brother’s face. She leaned over One Ear’s back to tell him she thought Canada showed in Ben’s eyes as much as it did in his extra inch of height and his police-dog honed reflexes.

  A large adult male coyote, One Ear’s new mate, had been hanging back. He came forward as the pups got up and One Ear went to praise her hunters, and Ben. He lowered his body to nudge Spot and Smudge submissively with his ears back and his eyes half closed.

  One Ear had accepted him this past fall as the winter mating season approached. He was taller than her by a few inches and thicker through the chest. Normally he would easily be the alpha but before the pups left they made sure he understood One Ear was in charge. Her mate was generally afforded the respect of a typical male alpha but One Ear retained final decisions for anything that affected the pack. She was unquestionably their female alpha.

  One Ear was a competent leader and masterful trainer, and tough as nails when it came to pack discipline. Most importantly Spot and Smudge trusted her. They knew she would keep an eye on the farm and the house. The coyote had bonded with Ben and Mimi, and eventually with the rest of the family and considered all of them part of her extended pack.

  The pack’s other breeding female had taken a new mate as well and they were hoping to see litters of coyote puppies in the den in a few months.

  Both of the new males adapted to a female alpha without much of a fight when faced with Spot’s logic and Smudge’s unique brand of persuasion, but it was One Ear herself that ultimately made it work.

  As the young hunters took turns pouncing on Ben with the adult coyotes coaching, Spot and Smudge realized One Ear excelled in the politics of her odd new role. The coyote reminded Smudge of Aila and Mimi in many ways, and she ran her family with the same smart, kind strength as her human counterparts. The female alpha was always confident and relaxed as she watched every move her young wild dogs made. She cuddled one with a minor wound while correcting the bully with a bite. One Ear let the big male take a leadership role over the rough housing, but it was her the pups looked to for approval when they did something right.

  We did the right thing putting her in charge, Smudge said.

  You did the right thing, sis, Spot said, This female alpha thing was your idea and I have to agree she’s got things well in hand. The young ones are strong and sharp, and I even like her new man. He leaned against his sister and said, Our little pack’s going to be fine.

  Smudge said, I wish she and Glasgow could meet and swap Alpha-ess stories. I really miss that damn wolf, and Sholto, and the Elkhounds, and Christa, and those daft police dogs…

  And Lissa and Harry, Spot added.

  Yeah. And them too, Smudge agreed with a nod.

  Spot picked up on his sister’s pause. And especially E’sra, he thought, but didn’t say it. His sister and the big Elkhound on Hamish’s sled team had grown close. His death in the jaws of the demented rogue wolf, while kicking Smudge out of the way to save her, were still weighing heavily on his sensitive sister. So was Lissa’s assassination by the traitorous deputy Dave. Smudge was normally good at articulating when things were bothering her but he had noticed she didn’t share her grief over E’sra as openly with him. Still, it wasn’t difficult for him to see it softly rolling across the slight wrinkle in her brow, and that wasn’t the only thing bothering her.

  Smudge gave her knowing brother a final nudge and got one One Ear’s attention. The female alpha bounded over to them, circling once before she slid in between Spot and Smudge again to share the warmth radiating from her thick coat.

  As the light snow picked up the three dogs pressed closer together and sat quietly for long minutes, watching the hunters play with Ben and simply enjoying being back together again.

  Some while later the low winter sun started to drop through the hazy treetops and Aila called out from the house for them to come in.

  Ben shoved the energetic young hunters off him and the pups pulled themselves away from One Ear and said goodbye. Spot asked One Ear to continue with the patrols at the farm and the Hogan house, and promised to visit the den in the morning to see the rest of the pack.

  After a short head butting and huffing from One Ear, her mate and Birl split away from the group and disappeared into the woods. Birl headed towards the Hogan’s house, which was a mile to the East near Cape Cod Bay, and the big lead male went behind the barn where he could pick up the trails that circled the farm. The rest of the hunters and One Ear yapped a final goodbye and ran off into the dark of the field towards The Bogs.

  Ben walked back to the house with Spot and Smudge behind him, walking perfectly in sync with their tails wagging together.

  Nodding to Mr. Watt as they rounded the pen, Spot said to Smudge, You’ve been pretty quiet about leaving this place, sis.

  There’s really nothing to say, Smudge said as they crossed the driveway, I understand why we have to go, but this is our home. We were born under that shed over there where mom died. We learned to hunt by chasing Ben and these dotty wee chickens around in this pen. I almost got blue-juiced on the kitchen table in that house, where the nicest humans walking this planet nursed me back to health. You came up with our crazy plan on the bed in that small bedroom, and we healed our new paws while resting in those deck chairs. We made these woods safe for our family through sheer will and help from good friends…and some of them are buried up on that hill. This is home, brother.

  Ben held the screen door open for them and Spot nosed Smudge as he passed her, and said, That safety turned out to be an arrogant illusion, sister. Home is wherever this family is, and wherever you and I are.

  Chapter 4

  Douglas ‘VB’ Barton, Director of the FBI’s Boston Field Office, was wearing a fake beard, had on someone else’s dirty coveralls, and was driving a big truck. He was also actually winning an argument with Dr. Loyal Comina, his trusted right hand and special agent in charge of the Hogan-Walker debacle. She had reported to VB for a decade and he could count on one hand the number of arguments he’d won with her. Some days he wasn’t sure exactly who worked for whom.

  “I’ll defer to your experience on this one, boss,” Comina finally said into VB’s earpiece.

  VB smiled, knowing she was actually telling him to go fuck himself. That one little sentence was saying he was an old bas
tard and her ten years on the street and her double doctorates in medicine and psychology shouldn’t just be swept away by his authority and thirty plus years of field experience.

  He didn’t discount her position on their case. She was the best agent he had, and if he was being truthful she was probably the best he’d ever seen. He knew Comina was smarter than him by a far sight, but as was often the case he had a higher vantage point on this issue. Sometimes she didn’t fully appreciate his Director’s gift for seeing forests through trees.

  “There is no way these deathtraps should be allowed on the road,” VB said as inhaled sharply, and veered the wide flatbed tow truck onto the slushy shoulder. He was trying to give an oncoming snow plow a wide berth. He heard ice and gravel pinging in his wheel wells, and as they passed each other the plow’s spray peppered his windshield and the wake buffeted his truck.

  “Was that as close as it looked?” Comina asked. She was watching him remotely and could see through the trucks windshield from the micro cam built into his American flag lapel pin.

  “Closer. I hope the seat of these coveralls is easy to wash,” VB said, “Look Loyal, I’m not saying you’re wrong. Hell, there aren’t any good answers here but I still think the best way to keep the family safe is to keep them here in Pembury. If they flee we can’t protect them.”

  “And you lose your shot at getting your hands on Semion and Katia,” Comina said, “And the accelerator formula, right? Cut the bullshit VB, you’re using them as bait.”

  She sat back on her couch and stared at her tablet, watching the dashboard through his camera as the trees flashed by outside the truck’s windows.

  VB turned on the wipers to clear the dirty snow from his windshield. The driver’s side hung down in tatters and did a great job of smearing as it screeched across the filthy glass. VB turned on the headlights, and the lit-up flurries dancing in front of the truck in the late afternoon gloom actually made his view worse. “Fantastic,” he mumbled.