Waggit's Tale Read online

  But he would have to worry about that later. Now he must get to the park as quickly and as stealthily as possible. He chose one of the smallest and quietest roads as his route, and as an added precaution he walked slowly, pausing to sniff fire hydrants and streetlights, and looked behind him frequently as if waiting for his owner to catch up. In this way he managed to pass unnoticed by any humans until he got to the wide avenue that ran alongside the park. Standing in the shadows of a church on the corner, he waited until there was a sufficient gap in the traffic, then ran with all his might across the road and into the park.

  It was exhilarating to be back on his home turf by himself, and he quickly made his way to the tunnel. As he approached it he heard a voice coming from the bushes where the sentries kept watch.

  “Hold up there, friend,” the voice said. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

  “Who are you?” asked Waggit.

  “I’m the one asking the questions, friend,” said the voice. “And you’re the one what ain’t answering them.”

  “I’m Waggit,” said Waggit.

  “There’s no dog here by that name,” said the voice. “There used to be, but he’s long gone, gone to the Great Unknown.”

  “No,” said Waggit. “I’m Waggit.”

  “Well,” said a different voice that was reassuringly familiar, “if this isn’t a miracle. It is Waggit!” And Tazar came down the path, his tail high and his head cocked. He went up to Waggit and sniffed him all over.

  “Waggity boy,” he said, “welcome back. How did you make it? What happened? No, don’t tell me, wait until you can tell everybody. Olang, come here!”

  Tumbling out of the bushes came a very young dog who wasn’t nearly as tough as his voice sounded. He scrambled clumsily down to where Tazar was standing and took his place beside him.

  “This is my son, Olang,” said Tazar proudly. “We’re training him to be eyes and ears. He’s pretty good, don’t you think?”

  “Well, he had me worried,” admitted Waggit.

  “Yeah, he’s a good boy,” said Tazar. “Olang,” he continued, “standing in front of you is a living wonder. This is Waggit, the only animal I ever heard of who got captured, taken to the Great Unknown, and not only lived to tell the tale but has come back to tell it to us.”

  “Is this one of the kids who I saw you with up at the Deepwoods End?” asked Waggit.

  “Yes,” said Tazar. “They grow quick, don’t they? I’m sad to say his sister didn’t make it, but this one—he’s the image of his old man, don’t you think?”

  Waggit didn’t think so, actually, but he didn’t say anything, for Tazar was so proud of what was in fact an unremarkable-looking puppy.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your daughter,” he said. “What happened?”

  “Oh, life in the park, you know. Some make it, others don’t,” said Tazar. “It’s just the way it is. Come, come, let’s go to the others. They will be amazed to see you, and so pleased. We were distraught when the Ruzelas got you; it hasn’t been the same around here since.”

  The three of them went into the mouth of the tunnel; Waggit stood there and in front of him he saw the entire team. There was a stunned silence and then pandemonium broke out. Everyone licked and sniffed and nudged him; they asked question after question, no one bothering to wait for an answer before asking another one. The noise in the tunnel was deafening. As his eyes got used to the low light, Waggit suddenly saw in the back of the tunnel, lying on a pile of newspapers, his old friend Lowdown. He went over to him. Lowdown struggled to get up onto his feet, which took some time. When he finally made it, his back legs trembled. Slowly and painfully he walked up to Waggit.

  “My friend, my very good friend, welcome back,” he said. “We have all missed you, but no one has missed you more than me. How are you?”

  “I’m well,” said Waggit. “Better than you, I think. What’s the matter, Lowdown?”

  “Oh, just age,” said Lowdown, “and unfortunately there’s only one cure for that. Let me tell you, the golden years ain’t as golden as they’d have you believe. But I can’t complain. These good animals look after me well. I want for nothing—except maybe to run with you down by the Deepwater one more time, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “Don’t you believe the old fraud,” interrupted Tazar. “He goes out hunting while we’re all asleep. That’s why he’s so fat. He’ll outlive us all.”

  Waggit only had to look at Lowdown to realize that this was Tazar’s attempt to lift his friend’s spirits, and it broke his heart to see the way his friend had aged.

  “You were so much better the last time I saw you,” said Waggit, “and I haven’t been away that long.”

  “Well, that’s the park for you,” said Lowdown. “You grow up quick here and you grow old quick too.” He paused for a moment. “But, you know, I wouldn’t live anywhere else.”

  This made Waggit feel a bit awkward given the decision that he had made to stay with the woman, but he said nothing. He looked around and saw all the faces of the team eagerly watching him, waiting to hear his story. They were all there—the Ladies Alicia, Alona, and Magica; Cal and Raz; Little One and Little Two, both of whom were now enormous; Gordo, who was still enormous; Gruff; and Tazar himself.

  “Well,” Waggit said, “here’s what happened to me since I was here last.”

  And he started to tell the story of being taken by the Ruzelas, of arriving at the Great Unknown, of Bloomingdale, of being rescued by the woman, and of his friendship with Polly and Jack. As the tale unfolded, his audience reacted in different ways. Anger and fear accompanied the capture and transportation to the Great Unknown; sadness and pride were produced by the account of Bloomingdale’s stoic bravery; puzzlement and confusion seemed to be the overwhelming reaction to the story of rescue and the kindness of the woman.

  “You mean she searched for you?”

  “She wasn’t working with the Ruzelas?”

  “She just, like, wanted you to live with her?”

  “She hasn’t beaten you?”

  They found it difficult to believe that a dog could be truly happy living with a human being. In a way it shifted the whole basis of their world; this was one of the enemy that wasn’t acting like an enemy at all.

  “But,” said Tazar, “there was one thing she couldn’t give you—freedom. Once you’ve tasted liberty, it’s mighty hard to live a life of constraint. We may not have soft beds, we may not have fancy meals, but we bow our heads to no one.”

  “I have to tell you, Tazar,” said Waggit, “there’s not a whole lot of head-bowing going on with the house dogs, petulants, or whatever you want to call them, that I’ve met. I’ll introduce you to Jack. You never saw a more unbowed head!”

  “Well, if life with the Uprights is so good,” said Tazar, “why have you come back to the park? Why not stay with your new friends? Why do you want to live here again?”

  This was the moment that Waggit had been dreading. To tell them that he didn’t want to live with them anymore, that he preferred living with a human, seemed to be the worst act of disloyalty, even treachery, to dogs who had been his friends and had saved his life. Even though his stomach was in knots, and his heart was racing with anxiety, he took a deep breath and prepared himself to let them know his decision.

  “I don’t want to live here,” said Waggit. “I just wanted to come back and tell you what happened to me, and that I’m all right and not to worry.”

  There was a stunned silence.

  It was broken after a few moments by Lowdown.

  “You mean that you’re leaving us again?”

  “I have to, Lowdown,” said Waggit. “Well, that’s not true. I don’t have to—I want to. I love you guys, and I owe you all more than I can ever repay, but life in the park is hard. You know that. You live with fear and uncertainty every day, and I’ve been given the chance to live another way. The woman loves me not because I’m a good hunter, or a fast runner, but jus
t because I’m me. If the price I have to pay for a little peace and security is to wear a leash, then so be it.”

  “We love you for who you are,” said Magica, “at least I do.”

  “I know you do,” said Waggit, “and this isn’t coming out at all the way I wanted it to. I’m not putting down the way you guys live. You’re warm and generous and a lot of fun, and like I said, I owe you big-time. I just need to give this a try. She’s a good woman, and she really cares for me.”

  “So be it, little brother,” said Tazar in an uncharacteristically soft, low voice. “We’ve all got to find our own way. Maybe your way is different from ours, and then maybe it isn’t. Maybe we’d all do what you’re doing, given the chance.”

  The team instinctively knew that it was now time to say good-bye. They came up to Waggit one by one and brushed against him, sniffed him, licked him, and murmured “Good luck,” or “Don’t forget us,” for they were truly sad to see him go. Tazar was the last one to say his farewells.

  “You are a good hunter,” he said, “and we miss you for that. But we mostly miss you because you’re a fine dog. Go in peace, with our good wishes, and know that you will always have a home with us whenever you want one, for we are your family.”

  And with that Waggit turned toward the bright lights of the city streets. As he started back, Lowdown said to him, “I would like to walk with you one last time,” and so the two friends moved off in silence, one hobbling painfully, the other walking slowly beside him. When they got to the road that runs around the inside of the park, they stopped, and Lowdown turned to him.

  “I never had a friend as good as you, Waggit,” he said, “and I never will. You’re a special dog, so no wonder the woman wants you to live with her. No way I can blame her for that. Make sure she takes care of you, and make sure you give her the love that she deserves. And don’t forget me.”

  “I’ll never forget you, Lowdown,” said Waggit, shocked at the very idea, “and besides, we come into the park all the time, so I might see you again soon.”

  “No,” said Lowdown, “this is the last time we’ll meet, make no mistake about that, but carry me in your heart and I will carry you in mine.”

  The old dog turned and painfully headed back in the direction of the tunnel without looking back. Waggit, for his part, shot out of the park and across the avenue, barely looking where he was going. Cars screeched to avoid him, horns blaring. He raced along the streets back to the apartment, not just because he wanted to get back before the woman returned from work, but also because the act of running seemed to lessen the ache that he felt inside him. He had made his decision, and he thought it was the right one, but he was learning that sometimes the right decision can feel like the wrong one.

  18

  Happy Ending

  By the time he got back to the apartment building he was out of breath, and out of ideas as to how to get back inside. He knew that the fire escape he had used to get out was not going to be his way in. Even if the ladder was down as far as it went, there was still a gap between it and the ground. Furthermore dogs are not good at climbing ladders; it was one thing to hang on for dear life as it went down, but quite another to get enough of a grip on each rung to climb up. Even if he did, how was he going to climb in the window? He was still sore from the tumble when he’d made the trip in the opposite direction.

  There were two mailboxes just to the left of the building’s entryway, and he hid between these in order to gather his thoughts and consider his options. The problem with options was that he didn’t seem to have any, apart from staying wedged there until the woman appeared. Like all dogs he had a very poor sense of time, and he had no idea whether the wait would involve minutes or hours. It was at that moment when he heard voices coming from the building’s hallway. Two people, a man and a woman, were leaving, laughing and talking loudly. They had pulled the door open very wide, and now it was slowly closing.

  Timing it nicely, Waggit darted through the opening just before the door shut, and into the lobby. It smelled, as usual, of the strange water that the human who cleaned it used, but, more importantly, it was empty. He stood in front of the elevator, wondering what to do next. If he got up on his hind legs and stretched his front paws as high as they would go, he could just reach the button that the woman pressed to open the doors, and as he pushed against it they immediately slid apart. He scurried into the elevator and sat, waiting for them to close again.

  When they did he continued to sit, waiting for the elevator to move, but it didn’t budge. Then he remembered that you had to push buttons inside the car to make it go, but which was the correct one? He had no idea. Then it occurred to him that he didn’t have to choose just one. Why not hit all of them? As the door opened on each floor he would surely recognize something that would lead him home.

  So that’s what he did. The task was complicated by the fact that he couldn’t reach the top row, however much he stretched up on his back legs, but he didn’t worry about this. He was pretty certain that he and the woman didn’t live in the top part of the building; he remembered that when he made his journey down the fire escape earlier that night it didn’t seem to be very high up.

  The elevator stopped at the second floor and Waggit stuck out his nose. He sniffed tentatively. Nothing—no familiar smell tickled his supersensitive nostrils. He repeated the process on the third, fourth, and fifth floors. Now he was getting worried. Maybe he was in the wrong building. It looked like the one they always entered, but like so many things in the world of humans, to him the buildings all seemed confusingly similar. Then the doors opened on the sixth floor. Yes, there it was, the scent of the woman, faint, but definitely there.

  He walked out of the elevator into the hallway. There were six or seven doors on each floor, but he had no difficulty finding the one where they lived. With a dog’s amazing sense of smell, he followed the trail as it got stronger and stronger to one of the brown doors, from which poured the familiar odors, not just of her, but of the furniture, the rugs, his bed, and all the other contents of the place that he now called home.

  It was clear from the level of the woman’s scent that she had not yet returned. Waggit tried and tried to think of a way of entering the apartment, but nothing came to him. If he could only get inside she wouldn’t even know that he had been to the park that night. However, it seemed impossible. There was no window that could be forced open, only a door in the wall with a doormat in front of it that said A SPOILED DOG LIVES HERE, which fortunately Waggit couldn’t read. There was nothing to do but to settle down and wait, and receive whatever punishment she would mete out when she returned. In all honesty this wasn’t a very scary prospect, since the strictest the woman had ever been with him was to stamp her foot and yell “bad boy.”

  The “Spoiled Dog” doormat seemed the most logical place to lie down and wait, not to mention the most comfortable. However, lying down for dogs is a three-stage process. First the area about to be lain down on has to be prepared by scratching furiously at it. Following the preparation the animal has to turn around at least three times before the final stage, the actual lying down, can be considered. It was during the turning around part of the process that Waggit bumped his rear end against the door, and to his amazement it swung open. He looked to see if anyone was inside, but as far as he could make out, the apartment was empty. Then he suddenly realized what had happened: when she had come back to retrieve the forgotten cell phone, the woman had pulled the door shut behind her, but in her hurry had failed to check that it had fully closed. It looked shut, but obviously the lock hadn’t engaged. His first reaction to this realization was relief that he could now get inside the apartment, but his second was one of irritation. Had he known that the door was open he could’ve saved himself the scary and dangerous trip down the fire escape.

  But he could now wait for the woman’s return on the comfort of his own bed and behind the security of a closed door. He made sure of the latter once he was inside by le
aning heavily against it until he heard the click of the lock falling into place. He then went over to the squishy bed, repeated the lying down process, and breathed a sigh of contentment.

  He fell asleep almost immediately. Saying good-bye to the team and sticking to his decision had been difficult for him, and now he was exhausted. Lowdown’s voice, telling him that it would be the last time they would meet, echoed through his head. At that moment what he was giving up seemed more real to him than what he was gaining, and he was beginning to regret having gone back to the park, even though it was probably the right thing to have done. His slumber was broken by the sound of the woman’s key in the lock, and he leapt to his feet, tail wagging furiously, to greet her.

  As she came in the apartment Waggit knew that he had made the right decision. She was a large woman, not just physically, but in every way. She was generous, loud, warm, and affectionate. She didn’t just move, but flowed like the waterfall in the park that went into the Deepwater.

  “Parker my boy! What a nice welcome,” she said in her voice that had been trained to be heard by large audiences and which she barely modulated for this audience of one.

  She sat down on the floor, and Waggit buried himself in her, licking her face, his whole body wriggling with delight. When he first started living with her he had worried that enjoying the comfort and security she provided was a bad thing, that it was in some way shameful. He had since come to realize that most dogs needed to feel safe. That was why teams existed and why loners were so strange. He felt certain that many of his friends in the park would have done what he had done if they could have. In fact Tazar himself had said so. There was nothing to be ashamed about in feeling the way he did if that was what he really wanted. He had proved to himself and to the other team members that he could survive the hardships of life in the park, and that he was as brave as any dog in the team. Choosing a comfortable life with a woman who clearly loved him was not cowardly, and in fact the decision to stay with her took much of the same courage that he had displayed as a hunter.