by Nick Pirog
~
It takes me a few minutes, but finally, I coax Megan into joining me in the lake. She slips off her shorts, then slowly tip-toes the twenty feet to the water.
Even in the shade, it’s blisteringly hot and I needed to cool off. I’m lying on my chest in the shallows, splashing and wrestling with Cassie and Wally.
“It’s not cold,” I call out to Megan.
The middle of the lake is freezing, probably no warmer than sixty degrees, but the sun heats the shallows near shore and it’s well into the seventies.
Megan shakes her head. “It’s not the cold I’m afraid of.”
“What then? The sharks? This is a lake, not the ocean.”
She rolls her eyes, then dips her toes in the edge of the water. “I just don’t like the water.”
“Oh, okay.”
I don’t press further.
To her credit, she sits down at the edge of the beach until her feet are entirely submerged. Wally runs and sits in her lap, gives her a lick on the chin, then runs into the water and swims out ten feet to where Cassie is swimming in lazy circles.
Megan throws a pinecone to Cassie for a few minutes, then she glances up and says, “The wedding is starting!”
I glance down the beach and see that all the seats are filled and a man in black robes is standing beneath the arch.
“Let’s go watch,” Megan says, clapping her hands together, then pushing herself up.
I give my head one last dip in the water, then jog up the beach to join her. Wally and Cassie follow in behind us. When we’re thirty yards away, Megan plops down in the sand. I follow suit. Cassie and Wally, who have been playing nearly nonstop for the past hour, flop down in the sand at our feet.
The bridal party is grouped at the top of the beach. Seconds later, the first bridesmaid and groomsman lock arms and begin their procession between the rows of chairs, then split and take their respective places near the officiant and the arch. The remaining bridal party makes their way down the aisle, followed by the ring bearer, then the flower girls.
“Oh, look at them,” Megan gushes. “They’re so cute.”
The groom finally makes his way to the arch. He’s smallish, with glasses and a goatee.
The music begins to play and everyone stands. Even Cassie and Wally perk their heads up.
The bride is wearing a strapless low cut wedding dress and a long veil. The bride and a man on her opposite side—it’s hard to see, but I presume it’s her father—disappear behind the wall of people, then reappear at the arch. The father lifts the bride’s veil and gives her a light kiss.
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
The bride.
It’s Avery.
~
“Wait,” Megan smirks. “You know her?”
“I was actually engaged to her at one point.”
Megan covers her mouth with her hand. “Did you know she was getting married?”
“No.”
“What’s her name?”
“Avery.”
At the sound of Avery’s name, Cassie snaps her head up.
“Settle down,” I say, pushing her back down.
She wiggles out from under my hands. She turns toward the large group of people, then she leans forward.
I watch as Cassie’s eyes lock onto Avery and the fur above her shoulders—her hackles—lifts two inches.
And then I hear her growl.
Cassie
“Cassie!” she yelled in her high nasal screech. “Get over here.”
I was lying next to the front door, waiting for Jerry to get home. I had to pee. Avery should have taken me out to pee hours ago. But I was used to it. Used to holding it when Jerry was gone.
“Cassie!” she yells again.
I know it’s better to go to her. If I ignore her, she’ll only get more upset.
I push myself up and plod to the kitchen.
Avery is holding a broom. On the ground is a dustpan. It’s full of golden and white fur. My fur.
“You see this!” Avery shouts, pointing at the dustpan. “You see all this stupid hair!”
She walks toward me and slinks her tiny bony hand under my collar. She yanks me—she might be small, but she is freakishly strong—toward the dustpan. She pushes my nose into the hair and says, “Stop shedding. Stop…shedding.”
Okay, Avery, I’ll stop shedding just as soon as you stop breathing.
She picks up a handful of hair and she pushes it toward my mouth.
“Here,” she says. “Eat it.”
I lock my jaw.
She drops the broom and tries to pry my jaw open with her hand. She might be strong, but she isn’t getting my mouth open.
Keys jingle in the front door and Avery scoffs and whacks me on the head. Then she picks up the dustpan and tosses the hair in the trash.
Jerry comes in and Avery runs around the corner and throws her arms around him. “Hi, honey.”
Then she grabs my leash off the hook on the wall and says, “I was about to take Cassie for another walk. You want to come with us?”
That was the last time I saw Her.
“Cassie!” Jerry yells, trying to hold onto my butt. “Don’t do it!”
I wiggle out of his grip, then I run.
Jerry
“Cassie!” I scream, chasing after her.
She tears through the sand like a greyhound at the track. I’ve never seen her move so fast.
She slips under the ribbon cordoning off the wedding.
I arrive five seconds later to a fracas of screaming and people leaping from their seats. Cassie has her teeth sunk deep into Avery’s flowing wedding dress and is whipping her head from side to side.
Avery is screaming.
Two bridesmaids smack at Cassie with bouquets of flowers, but they might as well be fruit flies. Cassie gives a hard tug on the bottom of the dress and Avery trips and crashes to the sand.
I push my way through the mayhem and yell, “Cassie! Stop! CASSIE!”
“Where did that dog come from?” someone screams.
“Whose dog is that?” shouts another.
“Do you think it has rabies?” cries a third.
When I reach the arch, the groom is hiding behind the priest, who is hiding behind a bridesmaid. Two groomsmen have fled toward the beach. One groomsman is holding Avery’s arms and trying to pull her away from Cassie.
An old woman is slumped over in the front seat, who I recognize as Avery’s grandmother. She may or may not have fainted.
I pull at Cassie’s back legs, which in theory is supposed to make a dog release their jaw, but Cassie’s grip remains firm. Her body squirms back and forth in my arms, her growl only getting louder.
“Let her go, Cassie!” I scream.
Avery lifts her head and glances down. “Jerry?” she shrieks, her eyebrows knitted together.
Hi.
How ya been?
Congratulations!
“Uh.”
A half second later, there’s a loud tear and Cassie and I fall backward. When I glance up, Cassie is running toward the lake with Avery’s entire wedding dress in tow.
I turn and look at Avery.
She’s lying in the sand. There’s a red garter around her right leg and flesh pasties over her breasts, but nothing else. Bad day not to wear panties.
Avery covers her crotch with both hands and lets out a long wail.
I sense movement behind me and turn.
It’s Avery’s grandmother stirring.
She blinks her eyes a few times, then sees me and opens them wide.
“Hi, Nana,” I say.
Chapter 16
“THE FARM”
Hugo
I slide out from beneath the newspaper where I’m hiding. The sky is still mostly dark, but there’s a bit of pink growing behind a few of the buildings.
I’ve been repeating Calandia’s words over and over in my head
since I left her. I know the words as well as I know “Tillamook Medium Cheddar.”
Follow the morning sun.
I keep to the alleys, zig-zagging my way through the buildings and closer and closer to the growing ring of pink in the sky. It doesn’t take me long to make it beyond all the buildings and back to the lake that isn’t my Lake. The sun is just above the water and the sky has turned from pink to orange.
I walk down the rocky bank and to the edge of the water. The only way I can get any closer to the sun is if I go swimming.
Walk above water.
But I’m not supposed to swim. I’m supposed to walk.
But how?
I scamper back up the rocks and scan the water. There are a few boats on the lake, but not as many as where I first was with all the shops and the black fish dogs. To the far right, there’s a bunch of fog and disappearing into the fog is something long and red. The long red thing appears to be floating above the water. I can see things moving on it.
Cars.
It’s a street above water.
If cars can drive above water, then I can walk above water. Right?
It takes me a while to find the entrance to this street above water. The sun is fully awake and the sky is blue. All the cars are awake too. I’ve never seen so many cars in my life. They are all lined up to go on this street.
How am I supposed to walk on this street with all these cars?
But then I notice the cars are barely moving at all.
“Hey, kitty,” I hear.
I glance up.
It’s a she-human. She’s gotten out of her car and is walking toward me. I run forward and hide under the car in front of her. I’ve grown some in the last few weeks, but there’s more room under the car than there was under the couch at New Home.
“Come out of there,” the she-human shouts. She’s on her hands and knees and is reaching her arm under the car.
“Hey, get away from my car,” someone yells.
“Chill out. There’s a little kitten under your car.”
“Big whoop,” a Jerry-human says. “I got places to go.”
“Traffic on the bridge isn’t even moving, you moron.”
A car door opens and I see another face. Then another. They are all reaching for me.
I dash forward under another car. That’s when I realize: I can walk under the cars for the entire street!
And that’s what I do.
~
It takes a long time.
Hours, I think.
At one point, the cars start to move faster and I squirm my way through some bars onto a sidewalk. I see down—way, way, down—to the water below. (I’m definitely above the water. Way above!)
There are a few people on bicycles. I scare a few of them and a few of them get off their bikes and try to catch me, but I’m too quick and they give up.
Finally, the street above the water ends.
Follow the brightest star for two days.
Nothing to do until nightfall.
I nestle into some bushes and scratch out a place in the dirt. I haven’t slept since my last night with Rayna and I’m tired. I close my eyes and sleep.
~
When I wake up, it’s dark. I wiggle out from the bushes and glance up at the stars. There aren’t as many cars on the street as during the day, but there are still plenty and their lights make it hard to see the stars. I wait for an opening on the street, then I dart across the road. I hear a loud honk and a screech, but somehow I cross the street without getting hit.
Whew.
I run down a side street that doesn’t have many cars, then I look back up at the stars. There are so many.
Are all these stars dogs’ souls?
I scan every part of the sky, then find one star brighter than the rest. For the rest of the night, I walk toward this soul. Luckily, one of the big streets is pointed right at it and I walk in the dirt on the side of the road.
I walk and I walk and I walk.
When the stars go away, I find a place to hide. The sun rises and hours later, it begins to rain. I drink my fill, then I climb a tree and find a crook between two branches. My stomach rumbles for food, but I force myself to think of Jerry and Cassie. And all the bacon I’ll get to eat when I get Home.
~
I walk all night again. I rest when the stars disappear, then wait for the sun.
Follow the morning sun once more.
I’m starving.
All I can think about is food.
Part of me wishes I was back in the tent with Rayna. (Beef jerky!) But when the sun begins to rise, all my thoughts of Rayna, the tent, and jerky go away. Behind the cloud of pink is the faint outline of jagged peaks.
The Mountains.
~
The sun is directly overhead and I can feel it cooking my tiny body.
It’s so hot. And I’m thirsty. And hungry. And the Mountains aren’t any closer.
I’ve been walking all day.
The street started to point away from the Mountains, so I started walking through the grass. Sometimes the grass was so high I wouldn’t be able to see the Mountains for a long time. Then I would find a rock or a tree to climb and make sure I was going in the right direction.
Now I’m on a street, but it’s dirt. The dirt street goes on forever, pointing at the Mountains, but they are so far away. I’ll never make it there if I just walk.
So I start running.
I run and I run and I run.
And then I trip.
And I roll and I roll and I roll.
I push myself up and try to walk, but I can’t put one of my front paws down.
I sprained my ankle.
I did this once before when I was a dog. I was chasing Cassie on the beach and my foot went into a hole in the sand. Jerry had to carry me to the car (which wasn’t easy from the way he was grunting) and I had to go see Dr. Josh. (“Hey, Big Guy. What happened?”) He wrapped my ankle in this weird red stuff and he said I couldn’t play for two weeks. (Two whole weeks! It was terrible!)
Now I did it again.
I guess cats aren’t indestructible.
I try to take another step, but the pain is too bad. I roll back onto my butt. I can’t walk, I’m thirsty, I’m hungry, I’m hot, and I’m in the middle of nowhere.
Calandia was right.
I’ll never make it.
~
“Well, hey there, lil’ feller.”
I blink my eyes open.
A Jerry-human is leaned over me. He has on a big hat and he has a bunch of white hair around his mouth.
“What are ya doin’ way out here?”
Going Home, I want to tell him, but I can’t speak. My mouth is too dry.
I feel a hand scoop me up. “Whaddaya say we get you out of this hot sun?”
He carries me into his car. It’s nice and cool. I know this is called “air conditioning.”
“Here you go, lil’ feller,” he says, setting me in his lap, then cupping his hand and filling it with water from a bottle. “Bet yer mighty thirsty.”
I lick greedily from his hand. It’s the most delicious water I’ve ever tasted.
“A lil’ longer out in that sun and you would’ve been a goner.”
He fills his hand a second time and I drink until my stomach feels like it will burst. When I’m finished, he sets me on the seat next to him. I try to put my front paw down and wince.
“You got a bum leg there?” He pinches my ankle and I whine. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to hurt ya.” He sets me back in his lap. “We’ll get you fixed up, lil’ feller. We’ll get you fixed up real good.”
~
“How old do you think he is, Hank?” asks the she-human. Like Hank, she’s wearing a big hat. Her hair is also white; it’s just not on her face.
“From the looks of ‘em, I’d say ‘round three months. He still has his baby teeth.”
“Ho
w’d he get way out here?”
“Maybe from a litter at one of the neighboring farms. Heard the Witlits were ‘specting a litter.”
“Of puppies. Not kittens.”
“You’re right. It was pups.”
Hank and she-Hank have been fussing over me for a while now. They gave me a big bowl of milk and some turkey—she-Hank said, “You’re just skin and bones there, aren’t ya?”—then they set me on a big bed.
“You think it’s broken?” Hanks asks. “His lil’ leg there?”
“I don’t think so. Probably just a sprain. He’ll be right as rain in a couple of weeks.”
She-Hank has wrapped my leg in something white. (She said, “I’ll make him a little boot.”) It still hurts, but not as bad as before.
“He can barely keep his eyes open,” she says. I feel a few good rubs behind my ears. “Go to sleep, little angel. Go to sleep.”
~
I feel wetness.
On my face.
I open my eyes and I see a big tongue. It slobbers its way down my ear and across my eye.
“Stop licking me,” I meow.
“Oh, sorry,” the dog curled around me says.
He’s brown and black with a white stripe down his nose. He has large droopy eyes and the longest ears I’ve ever seen. He has big folds in his fur like he’s wearing the fur of a dog twice his size.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“I’m Leroy,” he says, scratching one of his big floppy ears.
“I’m Hugo,” I tell him. I want to sniff his butt, but my leg hurts too bad to move. I settle for giving his wiener—that’s what Jerry calls it—a few sniffs.
“What happened to you?” Leroy asks.
“I hurt my ankle.”
He gives my ankle a few licks. It’s what Cassie would have done. I like Leroy.
“What is this place?” I ask.
“A farm.”
“What’s a farm?”
“It’s where they grow food.”
“What kind of food?”