Waggit's Tale Page 2

  “That’s the way we do things around here. Each one helps the other. Maybe tomorrow Raz won’t find a thing, and you’ll go out hunting and come back with a fat scurry, or maybe a curlytail. I’ve got a feeling that you’re going to be a fine hunter!”

  Gruff was hungry and getting impatient with all this chatter. “Go sit down. I want to eat.”

  So the puppy went to his place and sat. The food looked so delicious he could hardly wait. He was about to wolf it all down when he felt Tazar’s paw on his. The black dog lifted his head and in a soft howl said:

  “Remember as you eat, you eat your brother’s food; remember as you sleep, you take your sister’s space; remember as you live, your life belongs to them. You are the team; the team is you. The two are one; the one is two.”

  As the last words were spoken, the hungry dogs attacked the little mounds. The only sounds were the chomping of jaws and the smacking of lips. The Lady Magica bit into a piece of hot dog.

  “Ugh. Sauerkraut. It’s always covered in sauerkraut. Doesn’t anyone have onions and mustard anymore?” she asked.

  “No,” said Lowdown, “they were all sauerkraut. It’s probably why they were thrown away in the first place.”

  “I hope,” Gruff said gloomily, “that Tazar’s right about Waggit’s hunting potential. We haven’t had fresh meat in an age.”

  The Lady Alicia delicately ran an elegant tongue around her elegant nose.

  “I wouldn’t betcha collar on it,” she squawked. “That dog’s so scared the curlytails’ll probably end up eating him.”

  “Curlytails don’t eat meat. They only eat tree nuts and bread. It’s a well-known fact,” Gruff replied.

  Gruff’s remark came as a relief to the puppy, who had been listening to the group’s expectations of him with alarm. He had no idea what a curlytail was, but he was glad they were vegetarians. He had never hunted. In fact the only thing he’d ever chased had been the ball his master, the Upright, had thrown for him. But the food had given him a warm and sleepy feeling. He didn’t want to think about tomorrow until tomorrow. He lay down, gave a soft belch, and looked around. Along the sides of the tunnel there was an assortment of boxes, mostly filled with newspapers and bits of rags. The back entrance was covered over in trees and bushes that protected the dogs from weather and intruders.

  At the front end there was a lamppost, whose light would reveal any interloper before he could get too close. Whoever had chosen this as the team’s home had known exactly what to look for and had found it. This gave the puppy a good, safe feeling. Not that he intended to spend the rest of his life here. Everyone was very nice, except for the Lady Alicia and Gruff, but in his heart he felt he belonged to his master. Yes, he thought, he is my master. I’m sure he’ll come back to the park tomorrow, and find me and take me back to the mistress and their baby, and I won’t ever have to worry if I can hunt or not. This thought was so comforting that he stretched, yawned, and let his eyes slowly close.

  Tazar came over to the sleeping puppy.

  “Who’s doing eyes and ears tonight?” he asked the group.

  “Me, boss,” said Lowdown. “It’s my turn.”

  “No, you stay with the kid,” Tazar said, nodding toward Waggit. “I’ll take the watch. He’ll need some warmth before the morning. Don’t wake him up to move him to your box; just pull some paper over you both. And Lowdown…”

  “Yes, boss?”

  “Just remember how you felt the day that you were abandoned.”

  “Yes, boss, I ain’t never going to forget it,” the little dog said sadly, and settled down beside the young, thin body already twitching with terrible dreams.

  2

  Park Life

  Waggit awoke with a start. At first he couldn’t remember where he was, and for a while he couldn’t decide whether he was dreaming. He looked around to see that most of the other dogs were still sleeping, half in and half out of their boxes, some stretched out regally, others wound up into tight little balls. Cal and Raz shared the same box. Gordo’s was too small for him, and his head took up a lot of space in Lady Magica’s. Closest of all was Lowdown, whose wiry little body was pressed next to Waggit’s own. Without waking, Lowdown yawned, and the puppy could see two large blue spots, like ink blots, on the other dog’s tongue. Very carefully Waggit got up and stretched. Outside the mouth of the tunnel, the park was shrouded in a white mist. It looked strange and unreal, not at all the sort of place you’d want to call home.

  Gathering his courage, he walked out. The sun was up now, pale and thin, filtering a soft amber light through the mist, but as yet giving no warmth. The light sparkled off the frost on the leaves that crunched beneath his paws as he climbed up the bank to the path. When he got there he stopped and let his senses feel the air. His ears listened to the waking city, the low rumble of the traffic and the bad-tempered sounds of car horns. His nose picked up the sharp smells of the coming winter, the cold wet breeze from a lake, and from somewhere else a drift of smoke. Then came the animal smell of a human, strong and getting stronger. Waggit could hear the sound of footsteps on the path. He scuttled behind a bush as a precaution and waited with both fear and excitement. His master didn’t usually get up this early, but he may not have been able to sleep if he was worried. Waggit imagined him tossing and turning in his bed until he got dressed and came out to find his lost dog.

  The human gradually appeared through the mist—a man with a hat pulled down over his head, collar up, and shoulders hunched against the cold. It wasn’t his master; it was just someone who wanted to get from one place to another, disappearing into the mist as quickly as he had appeared. Waggit sighed and returned to the path.

  “You did well, little brother.” It was Tazar’s voice, but the puppy couldn’t see him. He cocked his head to get a better fix as the voice continued.

  “If you care to live, you must live with care. We have many enemies.” Waggit still could not see where the dog was hidden.

  “Come up here above the tunnel,” Tazar said.

  Waggit looked around. To his right there was a path, which led to a sort of bridge that formed the top of the tunnel and was covered with bushes and scrubby trees that were thick and nearly impenetrable, even without their leaves. Waggit took this path and started to climb. A wire trash basket lay on its side, and the mass of soda cans and paper that had spilled out of it blocked the narrow track. Waggit leapt across these, then hopped awkwardly over tree roots and crawled flat on his stomach under the low bushes until he came to the top.

  “Through here, my friend,” came Tazar’s voice.

  He could just see Tazar’s head in a patch of thick brush, and he plunged toward it. It was surprisingly easy to get through, and he found to his amazement that he and the black dog were in a kind of cave formed from brushes and branches. There was a clear view of the path in both directions, or there would have been if the mist had lifted.

  “I couldn’t see you from down there,” Waggit said.

  “That,” said Tazar proudly, “is the whole point. There’s no use keeping watch if your enemies see you before you see them.”

  “Who’re you looking for?” the puppy asked.

  “As I said, we have many enemies,” the leader replied.

  Waggit was hoping that Tazar would be a bit more precise on the subject of enemies so that he would know what to look out for.

  “But who are they, and what will they do to us?” he insisted.

  “Mmmm. First there’s Tashi’s team. Now, they’re not as bad as they think they are, but they want our realm, because they live on the Goldenside, where there’re too many Uprights, too many rollers, the air stinks, and there’s just not the space we’ve got here. They think if they come over here we’ll go whimpering off and leave it all to them. But we’ve beaten them often, so they don’t come around as much anymore. Tashi knows that a boss can only be beaten so many times and still be a boss.”

  So far the enemies didn’t sound all that bad.


  “Who else?” Waggit asked.

  “Well, there are the Stoners. They’re Uprights, only they’re not full Uprights, and they’re not puppy Uprights either, but sort of in between. Stoners are bad and they’re mean. They come in packs and throw rocks at you or hit you with sticks or cover you in bad water and set fire to you. If they catch you they’ll cut you with silver claws. They got one sister, and they cut her so badly she just died in her box.” The memory made Tazar sad.

  Waggit trembled. The Stoners sounded terrible, and they might not even be the worst. He took a deep breath and stammered, “Are there any m-m-more?”

  “Oh, yes. There is no shortage of enemies. Watch out for the Ruzelas. You can always tell them because they wear different coats from the other Uprights, so they all look the same. Sometimes they wear funny hats, too. We’ll see if we can find some today so you’ll know what they look like.”

  “What do Ruzelas do?” asked Waggit.

  “They don’t like us living in the park. Why, I don’t know; but a dog without an Upright seems odd to them. They think we should be back in slavery, snug as a bug in front of some Upright’s fire.”

  Snug as a bug sounded pretty good to Waggit, but he didn’t say it. Instead he asked, “But what do they actually do to you?”

  “They try to catch you. They aren’t too good at it, and mostly they don’t bother unless you’re sick or you snapped your leg or something like that. But if you bite an Upright, even if the Upright was attacking you and you only did it in self-defense, then they really come after you. When they catch you they give you to some other Ruzelas who come in big rollers and take you away.”

  “Where do they take you?” Waggit asked nervously.

  “Nobody knows, because nobody’s ever come back. Wherever it is, it’s permanent. Now, I’m not saying I know what they do when they get you to wherever they take you, but it seems to me that there’s only one thing that’s really permanent; there’s only one thing you never come back from.”

  “What’s that?” asked Waggit, although he’d really rather not know.

  “Death, little brother,” Tazar replied quietly. “Death.”

  Waggit sighed and lay with his head between his paws, and thought about how dangerous life had become, and how quickly. Only a day ago it had been so comfortable, so safe.

  In a mournful voice he said, “What can we do, I mean, if they come, the Ruzelas and the Stoners? What can we do?”

  “We can run. You and I can move faster than any Upright; even Lowdown can if he gets a bit of a start. So that’s what we do, we run and scatter, and then we meet, not here but at another place we’ve got.” He looked at the young dog. “Be cheerful, little one. It works. We’re not going to lose you; don’t worry.”

  Waggit was not so sure.

  “How do we know if an enemy’s coming?”

  “We use our senses—eyes, ears, and noses. Each night one of us stays here and waits and watches to make sure the team sleeps tight and safe.”

  “What if someone comes?” continued Waggit.

  “So many questions from such a small brother. If somebody comes, why, then we sound the alarm.” Tazar pointed with his nose to the far side of the bridge, where eight or ten soda cans had been placed on top of the balustrade. A sly grin broke out on his face as he looked at Waggit.

  “You know, those dogs should be up by now. They’re getting awful lazy. Why don’t you and I see how sharp they can be?”

  He moved quietly to where the cans were, then quickly ran his tail along them, causing them to fall with a clatter and a clang into the back entrance of the tunnel. Instantly Tazar and Waggit heard muffled sounds of panic and confusion. They watched as the dogs burst out of the tunnel and scuttled along secret paths over the hill and out of sight. The last to leave was Lowdown, his little legs flying so fast that it seemed as if he should be covering twice as much ground as he actually was. Tazar chuckled his wicked laugh.

  “See, I told you, all he needs is a bit of a start.”

  It took Tazar and Waggit several minutes to get to the meeting place. The mist had cleared, and warmth was finally coming to the park. Waggit almost felt happy as he trotted along beside Tazar. A couple of times the puppy fell behind to try to imitate the black dog’s swagger, but his paws seemed too big and his legs too long. And Waggit didn’t have a magnificent plumed tail that bobbed and fluttered with each step, like the flag of a general. So he contented himself with sniffing interesting smells, attacking windblown leaves, and casting a careful eye over anybody who looked even vaguely like his master.

  The rest of the dogs had assembled at a place called Half Top Hill. Tazar proudly told Waggit that this was the scene of the last and most humiliating defeat of Tashi’s team, which had retreated in disarray when the Tazarians rolled three large trash barrels down the long slope at them. “Trash beating trash,” was how he put it.

  Even Waggit realized that this would be an easy place to defend. The only way up was the long slope that the barrels had gone down, the other sides of the hill being much too steep to climb. There were good views all around, one over the field where people chased balls, and another along the road to the Risingside. All around the hill was a crunchy black path for horses, and any dog with a pair of ears worth the name could hear somebody walking on that.

  In fact the waiting dogs had seen Waggit and Tazar approaching long before they arrived. They crowded around with worried faces.

  “What was it, boss?”

  “Who’d you see?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Did they follow you?”

  “Everybody relax,” said Tazar. “I think we lost them. Well, I think we lost the first two groups anyway.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Ruzelas, but Ruzelas like you’ve never seen before. As tall as trees they were, with green faces, and red beams of burning light coming out of their eyes. They had long claws, and they carried sticks with silver hooks on them.”

  As Tazar told his tall story each dog backed away from him. Eyes wide and hackles up, they edged toward one another, packing together for protection.

  “As they walked,” Tazar continued, warming to his fantasy, “the ground shook and the sky grew dark. I tell you, they were awesome.”

  There was total silence as the dogs tried to imagine such monsters. Suddenly Lowdown cocked his head to one side and looked inquisitively at Waggit.

  “’Scuse me for saying this, boss, but if they was that awesome, how come this skinny little white thing, who ain’t the bravest animal I’ve ever met, is sitting all calm and relaxed, when by rights he should be halfway up this tree calling for his mama?”

  “Maybe this skinny little white thing’s braver than you think,” Tazar replied.

  “Well, maybe he is, and maybe he ain’t, but I’ve got an itch”—and he scratched himself as if to prove the point—“and my itch tells me that maybe them Ruzelas wasn’t quite as scary as you said. In fact maybe they wasn’t Ruzelas at all. In fact maybe they wasn’t anything at all.”

  Tazar (who had been looking quite awesome himself during the telling of the tale) sat down and grinned at the scruffy little dog.

  “There are times, Lowdown, when I reckon you’re the smartest one on the team.”

  The Lady Alicia’s screech shattered the air.

  “What are you two talking about? Are we going to be murdered in our beds or ain’t we? I mean, I’d like to know.”

  “My dear lady,” Tazar said in his most reassuring tone, “while I’m here you will be murdered neither in your bed nor out of it. This morning’s actions were a test, just to see if the system was working; and I tell you, it worked perfectly. The story I added to make life more interesting.”

  “A test!” Gruff grumbled. “You got me out of my bed, with the aches I’ve got in my bones; you make me climb this mountain, with a chest like I’ve got; you expose me to the cold and then scare me half to death with some cockamamie tale. You do all this for a test
!”

  “We saw you scampering up that hill, didn’t we, little brother?” Tazar asked Waggit. “And you were up there with the best of them. Those aching old bones did you a service when you thought your life depended upon it.”

  “Well, I’m with Gruff,” said Alicia. “You’ve got no right to go around scaring folks like that. As it was I had a terrible night, and I’d only just got off to sleep. I’m going to go back now and see if I can snatch a few more minutes of rest before something else disturbs me.”

  Since Alicia was famous for being able to sleep anywhere and at any time, this last statement produced muffled snorts and woofs from the rest of the team, which she haughtily ignored. With her beautiful head held high she delicately picked her way down the hill on her long, elegant legs.

  “You mean there never was any danger, Tazar?” Lady Magica asked.

  “The only danger was that you would sleep too long and miss the beauty of this day,” said Tazar.

  “Oh, Tazar, you are naughty. We were all so scared. But it was a good story!” Magica giggled.

  Tazar shrugged his shoulders and huffed a bit in an attempt to be modest, which was never easy for him.

  “I’d have protected you, Magica; if there’d been any danger, that is,” said Gordo, who was irritated by her adoring looks at Tazar. Lady Magica raced up to him playfully.

  “No you wouldn’t!” She laughed. “’Cause you’re a great big lazy lump.” She nipped him affectionately on the ear.

  “Ow, that hurt,” he said. “It really did.” And then he sighed because he had loved Magica for a long time.

  “Some protector,” she said. “Come on. If you want to protect me you have to catch me first.” And with that she leapt agilely down the steep side of the hill, hopping from tree root to rock, until she disappeared into the woods.

  Gordo lumbered after her, tumbling and crashing down the last part of the incline, and landing with an awful bang beside the path, which he crossed, but not before nearly colliding with a man on a bike, who shouted terrible things to him as he, too, disappeared into the woods.