Waggit Again (3 page)

I
t was Felicia's turn to be surprised.

“Hold on there,” she said. “Are you telling me that the woman lived in a park?”

“No, no,” said Waggit. “The team lived in the park.”

It was quite dark now, and the only light was from the glowing embers of the fire and the cold light of the moon. Waggit moved closer to Felicia, and in the darkness he told her the story of his life. He told her that when he was very young, just a puppy, he had
been left in the park by a human he had been living with, but had been rescued by a big, black dog called Tazar. Tazar was the leader of a team of dogs that lived there without any humans caring for them. Waggit told Felicia of the friends he had made, especially a short-legged, scruffy dog called Lowdown who was much older than him, and whom he feared might now be dead. He told her how hard it was to survive in the park during the winter but also of the fun they had in the snow and on the frozen lakes. He told her about their enemies, a tough, violent dog called Tashi, and Wilbur, his evil lieutenant. He told her that he owed his life to the team, and that they were really the only family he had.

Then he went on to tell her about meeting the woman. She was a singer by profession, and as the weather got warmer she came to the park to eat her lunch and practice her songs. She had shared her food with him, and it became his routine to be in the same place every day to see her—and one day she wasn't there but a park ranger was. He caught Waggit and took him to the pound. In a very quiet voice he told her about the pound and the door in the wall that they took you through if you were there too long. He told
her that nobody ever returned after they went through the door. Then he told her how the woman had come back and rescued him, and how he had decided to stay with her rather than return to his friends. But now he regretted that decision and wanted to rejoin the team, if they would have him, if indeed there still was a team.

Even though Waggit was young, the story of his life was long because so many things had happened to him in such a short time, and some of them were painful to recall. He looked up at Felicia and thought he saw a tear catch in the moonlight as it trickled down her face. She put her hand on his head, and the ache he was feeling in his heart seemed to vanish.

“They'll take you back,” she said. “Anyone would. You're such a good dog.”

With that reassurance they prepared to sleep. Felicia thought he might be happier spending the night outside, but Waggit welcomed the opportunity to lie next to her and feel her comforting warmth as he cuddled up to the softness of her sleeping bag. He felt safe and snug, and the day had been long and exciting, so it surprised him that he couldn't fall asleep. He thought from her breathing that Felicia was awake as well.

“Felicia.”

“Yes, Waggit?”

“Are you awake?”

“I think I must be.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure you can.”

“How did you learn to talk to dogs? Who taught you?”

“Oh,” said Felicia, “that's a long story.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” said Waggit. “And anyway, I told you about my life. If we're going to travel together I should know about yours.”

“That seems reasonable,” said Felicia. “Where shall I begin? Well, I'm told that I come from a good family. What it's good for I'm not quite sure, but many generations ago one of my ancestors made a lot of money, and the family's been living off of his hard work ever since, including me. You see,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye, “I may be strange, but I'm strange with a trust fund.”

Waggit didn't know what that was, but anything with the word
trust
in it was probably good.

“Go on,” he said.

Felicia paused for a moment, putting all the events
of her life into order in her mind.

“I grew up,” she began, “in a big house in the country, not far from here, actually. I had a very privileged life, with all of the comforts that anyone could wish for: servants to look after me, a chauffeur to drive me, and my own pony to ride. I had everything except friends, and I was lonely. I had no brothers or sisters; I didn't go to school because I had someone who taught me by myself, and my mother and father were hardly ever there. When they were they didn't take much notice of me.”

“Did the Upright who taught you tell you how to speak to dogs?” asked Waggit.

“Bless you, no,” said Felicia with a chuckle. “She taught me how to speak to French people but not to dogs. No, the woman who did that wouldn't have been allowed inside our house.”

“Where did you meet her, then?” asked Waggit.

“The house was surrounded by lots of land, much of it wooded,” she continued, “and one day when I was about—oh, I suppose I must have been a teenager—and bored with the activities that had been planned for me, I took a long walk in the woods, farther than I had ever been before. I was just about to turn back
when I came upon a hut that someone had built out of dead branches and leaves, more like a shelter, really. Sitting in front of it was this old woman, and we got to talking. She lived every summer in our woods, and nobody knew she was there, not my parents or anyone who worked for them. She didn't own anything, but she knew everything about the woods and the creatures that lived there.”

“Did she know about dogs?” asked Waggit.

“She did,” said Felicia, “but more to the point, dogs knew about her. I had taken my black lab, Smutty, with me on the walk, and he was the one who found her first. By the time I got up to them they were in the middle of a long conversation, which of course I didn't even know was taking place.”

“But she taught you the language, right?” asked Waggit.

“She taught me that if you love creatures and you open your mind and your heart to them, there are no limits to what you can say or feel. All Uprights have the ability, but over the years they've forgotten how to do it because other things became more important to them, like getting ahead and making money and being powerful.”

“What happened to her?”

“I went to see her every summer,” said Felicia, “and she taught me all she could about trees and plants and animals. This went on for maybe five or six years, and then one summer she told me it would be the last one. She knew she was going to die, but she wasn't sad. She loved nature, and to her death was part of nature, just a part of life really. And she was right. It was the last time I saw her, but after I realized she had gone I decided I wanted to live the way she lived and to value the things she valued. So I became a wanderer. I don't have a huge amount of money but enough to live simply, and I get to go to wonderful places and make fascinating acquaintances like you.”

“What about your family?” Waggit asked. “Don't they worry about you?”

“They did at first,” said Felicia. “But now they think I'm crazy, and so they leave me alone. There's a certain freedom in people thinking you're mad, you know. Besides, as long as I'm taking money out of the bank from time to time they know I'm alive.”

The dog had been fascinated by her story but now he began to feel tired. He tried not to show it, but a yawn came and he couldn't stop it.

“We should get some rest,” said Felicia. “We begin our grand adventure tomorrow, and we need to start out full of energy.”

So once again they settled down, Felicia in her sleeping bag and Waggit nestled against her, feeling safe and drowsy. Tomorrow would be a big day, and he was both excited and a little scared about what might befall them, but he was happy to have this companion with him on his journey home.

I
t rained heavily during the night, but the next morning was bright and fresh, as if the earth's face had been scrubbed clean. Felicia got up early and was cooking bacon when Waggit awoke. In fact it was the delectable aroma that aroused him. It wasn't the only enticing odor, however. Everything was bursting with life, and he could almost smell energy and optimism in the air. It was the scent of spring, and it felt like a good day to start an adventure.

After they had eaten and Felicia had washed herself
in the stream, she started to pack up her belongings. It was amazing how she could get everything into her large backpack. Waggit watched in fascination as she carefully folded each item of clothing and placed all of them in the bottom of the bag. She then put in a layer of plastic sheeting and several layers of newspaper before placing the food on top. When she had completely filled the backpack she zipped it shut and attached the rolled-up tent and sleeping bag. She checked around to make sure that she hadn't left any trash at the campsite, then squatted down and put the pack on her back. She stood up carefully and turned to Waggit.

“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step,” she said, and strode off.

He had no idea how far a mile was, but a thousand of them sounded like a very long way, and he was hoping that New York was a bit closer. He had no time to worry about this, however, because Felicia was already some distance down the railroad tracks and he had to run to catch up with her. The day was fine and the countryside was beautiful. The stream had now broadened into a shallow river that sparkled in the sun. On a couple of occasions when the two of them had to scramble down the bank to let a train pass, Felicia
took off her boots, hoisted up her sweatpants, and let her feet dangle in the clean, flowing water. Waggit waded up to his shoulders, enjoying the cold shock of it against his chest. Lazy brown fish drifted against the current but scattered when he got too close. Waggit was a city dog and had hated the country when he was on the farm. He hated the smells, the isolation, and most of all the silence. He missed the comforting hum of traffic and the constant movement of a great metropolis. But here, cooling himself in the river with his new friend close by, he felt quite comfortable.

Toward the end of the afternoon Waggit's nose started to twitch. He could smell humans, and sure enough, as they rounded a bend in the tracks by a wooded grove they saw a small town in the distance. Felicia decided she would have to go there to get the supplies they needed but that it was too late now and it would be better if they camped in the woods for the night. She found a good spot that was well protected but accessible, and there she pitched the tent.

Immediately after breakfast the next morning Felicia got ready to leave.

“We're running short of several essentials,” she said, “including food.”

Waggit suddenly felt tense and anxious. Was her trip into the distant town just her way of getting rid of him? No, that couldn't be because she was leaving her tent and most of her belongings; nevertheless he felt uncomfortable.

“We don't need food. There's plenty of food here.” He nodded to the woods and fields that surrounded them. “I'm a pretty good hunter, and I can get us a curlytail or a hopper.”

Felicia smiled. “While I'm sure that curlytails and hoppers taste delicious, whatever they are, I think I would like to stick to the food I'm used to. Besides, we also need other stuff.”

“Okay then,” said Waggit, “let's get going.”

“I'd be happy for you to accompany me,” she replied, “but I don't think it would be a good idea. You never know what a town is going to be like until you go there, and to be on the safe side I think it would be better if you stayed here.”

He wasn't quite sure what she meant by this, but she seemed determined to leave without him. She saw this worried him, so she kneeled down and stroked his head.

“I will be away for a while, but I will return. In the
meantime stay close to the tent and don't worry. I'll be back in time for lunch.”

Once again her soft voice and serene manner had a calming effect on him, and by the time she disappeared into the distance he was chewing contentedly on a stick. But as she left, so did the feeling of peace that surrounded her. The trees that had seemed soft, gentle, and protective a few minutes earlier now took on a more sinister quality, and he had the sensation of being trapped beneath them. He jumped at a sound behind him, only to see a white-tailed deer more nervous than he was running through the woods.

“I don't like it here,” he muttered to the stick, having no one else to talk to. “I should have learned my lesson; I never should've let an Upright take over my life again. Tazar wouldn't. What if she's going to bring the Ruzelas back here? Maybe that's why she told me to stay by the tent so that I would be much easier to catch.”

Miserable, lonely, and scared, he decided that it would be safer to move away from the camp. Between the edge of the woods and the bank of the river there were some tall rushlike grasses, and he hid in the middle of them. The hours passed slowly, because he did
not dare to move. The sun wasn't strong, but after a while he still began to feel hot. The river was only a few feet away and he decided he would take a drink and cool off, so he left his hiding place and splashed about in the cold water. He began to feel more cheerful, and as his optimism returned, so did his independence.

Why, he thought, am I waiting for an Upright to bring me food? I can look after myself. There's no point hanging around waiting to see if she returns.

He decided to go hunting. He was a good hunter, fast, with a strong sense of smell, and smart enough to anticipate what moves his quarry would make next. But none of these qualities are of any use if there's no prey in the vicinity. He tracked back and forth through the woods, his nose working furiously, but the scent trails he picked up were all old. The animals that had left them were probably now resting in the cool of their burrows or out hunting for themselves in the surrounding fields. He saw a chipmunk scamper away, and a squirrel chattered at him in panic from the branch of a tree. Apart from these there was no sign of life.

There was nothing to do but go back to his hiding place, wait for Felicia to return, and hope that she
was by herself. After what seemed like days he saw her lanky figure crossing the fields, several packages in her arms. He decided to stay hidden until he was certain that nobody else was with her. It was a good plan that turned out to be completely useless. Instead of going up to the tent, calling out his name, and then looking around for him, Felicia came directly to the edge of the rushes and said, “Waggit, why are you hiding in there? I'm so sorry to have left you, but as it turned out it was just as well you weren't with me.”

How she knew he was there he had no idea, but it didn't matter because once again he felt calm and all fear left him. He didn't even feel awkward leaving his hiding place, by which time she was fussing around the opening of the tent.

“Oh, my goodness,” she said, “those are the most unfriendly people I've met in a long time. They didn't want to sell me anything, even though I had the money. They finally condescended to overcharge me for a few necessary items, including…” She dug into the bottom of one of the brown paper sacks and pulled out a new, bright blue leash. “Ta-da. You're now respectable.” And he let her clip it onto his collar, even though he wasn't crazy about it. “They didn't have a pet shop,
of course, but I found it in the hardware store. However, even with your newfound respectability I think we will circumvent their hostility through circumnavigation.”

Waggit frowned and cocked his head in confusion.

“We will avoid any possible confrontation by not going near that settlement again,” she explained. “I did, however, stock up on food supplies.”

This was good news for Waggit, who was feeling famished after his unsuccessful attempt at hunting.

“I got you some cans of real dog food,” she said. “I think people at the store thought I was going to eat it myself.”

For the life of him Waggit couldn't see why that would be considered strange. He had eaten human food from time to time, so why would humans eating dog food be any more unusual?

When they had both finished eating and Felicia had cleared away all the utensils, she sat down on the trunk of a fallen pine tree, broke off a long stalk of grass, and chewed it contemplatively. Waggit had noticed that this was a habit of hers whenever she was concentrating. She then unfolded a map that she had purchased that morning and studied it carefully.

“I really do think,” she said after several minutes, “that it would be better if we bypass this town, and that we should do it at night. Unfortunately, whether we take the tracks or the roadway, they both go through its outskirts. We will just have to keep a very low profile and hope that nobody pays us any attention.”

They left when it got dark. Although she had a flashlight in her backpack Felicia thought it was wiser not to use it while they were in open countryside, and so their progress was slow. When they got to the town they tried to keep to its edges, but because it was small avoiding the center was difficult. They rounded a corner, and there in front of them was a single story building with a big illuminated sign and brightly colored lights in the windows. Loud music came from inside, and parked in front were several cars and pickup trucks.

“Oh dear,” said Felicia, “a bar. People in bars usually go one of two ways. They either get very jolly and silly or mean and belligerent. Let's see if we can find another way around it.”

They turned back in the direction they came, and after a few blocks found a road that looked as if it would go around the edge of the town and still keep
them on their route. They had gone just a short distance when Waggit suddenly stopped. His ears were pricked, and he turned his head back toward the bar. Over the sound of the music came the yelping of a dog that was obviously in pain and distress.

“Can you hear that?” Waggit asked.

“No,” replied Felicia. “What is it?”

“There's a dog in trouble,” said Waggit. “We have to go back.”