Puppy Tales 05 - Shelby's Story

by Cameron, W Bruce

  So this was my life: Hiding. Trying to keep the rats and the birds away from my meals. Listening to my stomach complain. And always, always, avoiding people.

  * * *

  Until Megan came.

  The first time I saw Megan she was walking with the angry man. He did not have his stick this time, so I was not quite as frightened of him, but I still slunk down behind a truck that was not moving, and stayed quiet so they would not see me.

  The angry man seemed to be telling Megan something, moving his hands around in quick impatient gestures as he talked. Megan was nodding.

  “I understand,” I heard her say as they walked past my hiding place. “But I might not be able to catch her right away. It sounds like she’s pretty spooked.”

  I liked her voice, even then. It did not sound angry. She did not shout. And somehow I felt that she was talking about me. But I still knew better than to let her see me.

  Of course, I did not know then that her name was Megan. I did not know why she was there, why she was talking to the man who seemed so furious every time he spotted me.

  I let the two people go past and then picked up a bit of moldy potato from a bag near my feet. I took it back to the trees where I had hidden the day the man had yelled and the earth had exploded. I’d gotten used to going there to sleep and eat. I felt safe there, and I trusted that no one could see me.

  I gulped down the chunk of potato and curled up for a rest, with my tail over my nose. I dozed a little. Then my ears perked up as I heard footsteps.

  I lifted my nose to the breeze. I recognized the smell. Human. Female. A little anxious. There was also something about her—a food smell—that made my nose twitch eagerly. I had never smelled a food smell quite that good before.

  Then Megan pushed aside a branch and walked into my clearing.

  She stopped when she saw me and stood without moving. I jumped to my feet and stood without moving, too. We stared at each other.

  I was tense, quivering, ready to run, but I needed to know which direction to go. What would this woman do? I watched her, waiting for her to make the first move. If she lunged at me, I’d dodge around her and run as fast as I could.

  When would she try to grab me? When would she yell in anger, waving her arms? I knew what to expect from humans.

  “Oh, honey,” Megan whispered. “There you are, right where he said you’d be. Don’t worry, now. I’m here to help.”

  It was odd, hearing a person speak so gently. I’d never heard that before. The woman who brought food to my mother in a metal bowl did not speak to us at all, and most of the other people I’d met shouted.

  Megan didn’t rush at me, either. She didn’t wave her arms or try to scare me.

  Instead, she sat down right on the ground. I twitched with surprise.

  She sat very still.

  I watched her for a while.

  She kept sitting.

  Very cautiously, I lowered my rump to the ground, too. But I was still ready to spring up and dash away as soon as Megan moved.

  “There now,” Megan said softly. “You’re not scared, are you? Such a brave girl. Such a pretty thing, too. Or you will be when we clean you up a little. Are you hungry? I bet you’re hungry. That’s why you’re here. I have something you’ll like.”

  Moving slowly, she reached into a pocket of her jacket. I watched with wide eyes as she drew something out.

  A smell drifted off the small square things she was holding in her hand. It was the smell I’d noticed as she approached my clearing.

  It made my mouth water. In her hand was something better than moldy potato or greasy chicken or all the other food I’d found in the plastic bags. Something that I wanted.

  To my surprise, my tail wagged back and forth.

  “Ahh, I thought so,” Megan said, still using that soft voice. “You’ll like this. Come and try it. Come on, sweetie. I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help.”

  Very, very slowly, she reached out her hand.

  Those things in her hand smelled so inviting! I wanted to go closer. My feet took a step without my telling them to. I could feel my stomach approving of this whole situation.

  Megan smiled. “Good girl,” she whispered.

  I stopped again. Megan was a person, after all. And people shouted and grabbed and had sticks that were frightening.

  But Megan wasn’t shouting. Megan wasn’t grabbing me. And she didn’t have a stick.

  Instead, she had the little thing that smelled so wonderful. The potato I’d eaten before hadn’t satisfied my hunger. My stomach wanted my feet to go and get that thing in Megan’s hand.

  “That’s right. Treat. You want a treat, don’t you, girl?” Megan coaxed.

  I wondered about that word, “treat.” It seemed like it might be important.

  Very cautiously, I took a few more steps.

  Megan sat still. Her hand didn’t waver. I stepped even closer and cautiously nibbled at the tiny thing in her hand.

  Treat. This tiny thing must be treat.

  Once I had the treat in my mouth, I jumped back. It tasted even better than it smelled! In a moment it was gone, down my throat.

  I wanted more.

  And Megan had more! She put her hand in her pocket. In a moment she was holding it back out, full of treats.

  My tail wagged harder.

  “I don’t think you’re aggressive at all,” Megan told me. “I think you’re a sweetheart. A hungry sweetheart. That’s right, come closer. You can trust me. You know you can. Come on, now, come get the treats.”

  “Treats.” I was beginning to like that word.

  I came closer again and took the treats from Megan’s palm, retreating back a few more feet to eat them. Megan smiled and held out more. More? This was so exciting. How many treats did she have in that pocket?

  I came closer again. It was beginning to feel silly to back away from her each time. Wouldn’t it make more sense to stay close to Megan and her treats? This time I ate the treats out of her hand without moving away.

  “Oh, good girl. Good girl,” Megan murmured.

  With the hand that was not holding the treats, she very gently scratched behind my ears.

  I froze, startled. No human had ever touched me like that!

  “Easy, girl. It’s fine,” Megan said. “Easy, now.”

  Her fingers rubbed my skin through my fur.

  It felt … good. It felt nearly as good as the treats in my stomach. Without even thinking about it, I leaned my head into her hand so that she scratched harder.

  Megan laughed, just a little. “Oh, I was right; you are a sweetheart. I bet you want more treats. There you go. Okay. If you come with me, I’ll get you some real food, huh? Bet you’d like that. I’m going to get up now, but don’t be scared? See, I’ve got more treats right here.”

  She pulled some more treats out of that pocket. Wouldn’t it work better if she just let me stick my head into the pocket and eat all the treats in a gulp?

  Then Megan rose slowly to her feet. I jumped back. Was she going to start yelling now? Did she have a stick hidden somewhere?

  But she didn’t pull out a stick or make any sudden movements. She just held out that hand with the treats and stood still.

  The treats smelled so good.

  I came closer again. She didn’t move. I ate the treats. She didn’t move.

  I decided that Megan standing up was not really scarier than Megan sitting down. When she started to walk away, still holding more treats in her hand, I followed her.

  4

  I trailed Megan through the trees and past the piles of plastic bags with all that they contained. A truck was parked along the road. Megan walked to the truck and opened one of the doors.

  I hung back and watched warily. Things with wheels were dangerous for dogs.

  But this wheeled thing wasn’t moving, which probably made it safe. And Megan was standing near it. With treats.

  I inched closer.

  “Good girl. Brave girl.
Now, can you do this?” Megan was saying, still in that gentle voice. “Can you jump right into the truck? Sure you can. Look what I’ve got for you.”

  She showed me her hand, full of treats. Then she put the treats inside the truck, on a seat covered in soft fabric.

  She stepped back.

  “Come on, girl. You can do it. Let’s go. This is no place for you, honey. Jump on up. The treats are waiting for you.”

  I hesitated. I looked at the truck and at Megan.

  Then I looked at the road and at the piles and piles of plastic bags. Birds were soaring and swooping over them. Rats were probably crawling among them. In the nighttime the animals with stripy tails would be coming to get their share. Maybe the cat would come back.

  But nothing in all of those bags tasted as good as the treats Megan had been feeding me. And nothing sounded as nice as the sound of her voice or felt as good as her fingers scratching behind my ears.

  Still, she was a person. She might yell and rush at me. She might find a stick.

  And she was standing near a truck. Trucks had wheels.

  But this truck had treats, too.

  I did not know what to do.

  “Don’t be scared,” Megan whispered. She knelt down on the ground and held out a hand to me. “Come here. You can do it. I know you can.”

  Step by cautious step, I came closer to her. Her hand had no treats in it now. But it still smelled like them. When I licked her skin, I could taste the treats, along with salty sweat.

  She scratched my neck this time. It felt good. It felt very, very good.

  “Okay, girl. Good girl. Go on in,” Megan told me. “Get your treat.”

  There was that word again. “Treat.”

  The treats were in the truck. And now that I was closer, I realized that the inside of the truck smelled like Megan.

  Maybe that made it okay. This was not like other trucks.

  Just as Megan was not like other people.

  I hesitated, and then I jumped. Right up onto the soft seat where the treats had been scattered.

  Megan moved smoothly, but not quickly enough to scare me. She closed the door of the truck while I was still crunching up the treats.

  I was startled by the bang of the door closing and felt nervous for a moment. I was shut in. There was nowhere to run.

  But then Megan opened the other door of the truck and slid in behind a wheel. She closed the door and sighed. I could feel and smell her relief.

  “Well, that went easier than I thought it would,” she told me. She pulled a small metal object out of a pocket. I could see it was not a treat, so I wondered why she bothered with it. She stuck it into a hole near the wheel and turned it. The truck made a loud growling sound.

  I flinched back against the seat and whimpered.

  “Oh, sweetie, don’t let the truck scare you,” Megan told me. She handed me more treats, which made me feel better at once. “We’re going somewhere nice. I promise.”

  Then the truck started to move jerkily forward. It was hard to keep my balance, so I lay down on the seat and whined again. My ears went flat against my head.

  I liked Megan. I liked treats. But I did not like trucks.

  And I did not know where this one was going.

  * * *

  When Megan stopped the truck and opened the door on my side so that I could get out, the first thing I noticed was the noise. I heard barking, howling, and even some angry growls.

  Other dogs!

  Megan took me inside a big building and into a pen. The walls of the pen were made of thin strips of twisted wire, just like the fence that used to be around the yard where I’d lived with my mother and littermates.

  There was something else here that reminded me of the yard—two metal bowls on the floor. One was full of water. And the other had brown chunks in it.

  Food!

  I trotted over and stuck my muzzle into the bowl. In a few minutes it was empty. When I took my face out of the bowl, Megan laughed. She took the bowl away and brought it back full again, and I gulped the food down just as fast the second time.

  It was amazing to feel that my belly was full. Completely full. I could hardly remember the last time that had happened. No longer did my stomach seem like some sort of snarling animal living inside me, constantly demanding to be fed. Now it just felt heavy and satisfied.

  Then Megan sat down on the floor and patted a piece of carpet next to her. She talked to me and showed me more treats in her hand. I wasn’t as hungry anymore, but those treats still did look and smell good, so I came over and ate some more. Then I sat down on the carpet while Megan scratched my ears and stroked the fur on my back. I wiggled from surprise and pleasure.

  I liked being petted. It was new, but nice.

  But then something happened that I did not like. Megan scratched behind my ears one last time, and said, “Bye, sweetie, I’d better fill out paperwork for you.” Then she opened up the door of my pen and walked out.

  She closed the door behind her.

  I was so surprised that I simply sat and stared. I’d gotten into the truck because Megan and her treats were there. I’d gone into this pen because Megan and a bowl of food were here.

  But now Megan was gone. Gone!

  This did not seem good.

  I paced around my pen, trying to learn more about it. The floor under my pads, on the one hand, was cool and hard and smooth. The bit of carpet, on the other hand, was springy but rough. When I smelled the scent rising from it, faint but unmistakable, I lowered my nose, sniffing frantically.

  It was Splotch.

  Splotch had been here. So had other dogs, and I could tell she hadn’t napped on the carpet in a long time, but it was definitely her, my sister. She had come, and now she was gone.

  Somehow, that made me feel better about Splotch. We had both been terrified when she had been taken, but if she came here, to this place with treats and Megan, then it hadn’t been so bad. This was a place where stomachs could be filled. There was also a bowl filled with water. I lapped some up. It tasted fresh and good.

  Oh, Splotch. I missed her so much, but sniffing up her smell on the carpet, I got the feeling that she was happy now. Was she back home with Mother? Was that where Megan would take me next?

  I looked around to see if I could get some sense of what might happen to me, and I noticed the other pens. I could see one on either side of me. There were more behind that. Many more.

  One of the pens next to me was empty. In the other one was a black dog, a little bigger than me, with short fur and white around his muzzle. He was lying on his carpet, and he picked up his head to look at me but then put it down again. He didn’t seem very interested in getting to know me.

  This dog was quiet, but other dogs weren’t. There were lots of dogs all around. One would bark, then another would answer, and suddenly there would be a burst of barking that didn’t die out for a long time.

  Some of the barks were angry and even had snarls mixed in. “Don’t come near me,” those barks said. “Keep away! I’m strong! I’m tough!”

  But most of the barks were not like that. Most of them were … lonely.

  “I’m alone!” those barks said. “Notice me! Stay with me!”

  I sat on my carpet and listened to the barking and tried to decide if I liked this new place or not.

  It was small, which made me nervous. At the place with the plastic bags or when I’d been roaming the streets with Splotch, I’d had room to run. There had been places to hide if I needed them.

  Here I could not run. Or hide.

  But there were metal bowls on the floor and Megan had filled them with food. I remembered metal bowls like that from when I had lived with my mother and littermates. People put food in metal bowls.

  But not always enough.

  Still, Megan was here, and that was a good thing. Well, she was not here right now. She’d left me in this pen, and she’d gone away.

  She might come back. But I could not be sure that
would happen.

  What if Megan never returned? What if the bowls for food stayed empty? I lay on my piece of carpet and nibbled at it, but it did not taste good at all.

  After a while, I heard a sound. Slowly I realized that I had heard it before.

  It was a pattering sound, like a lot of tiny pebbles were falling down and hitting something hard. It was the sound rain made when it fell and hit the leaves of a tree or a bush that I was trying to hide under.

  Rain meant I would be wet and cold. I sighed and wished my sister were still here. Or that I could get out of this pen and huddle with the black dog next door. Even if he wasn’t very friendly, he might be warm.

  I waited for the rain to hit my fur and soak through to my skin. I waited for the coldness to grow.

  But it did not happen.

  I was so surprised when I realized that I wasn’t getting wet, I sat upright in astonishment. I tipped my head back to see what had happened to the rain.

  That’s when I figured out that there was no sky overhead. Instead, I saw something big and flat high up in the air.

  I didn’t know it was called a roof, back then. I just knew it was keeping the rain away.

  I lay back down on my carpet, listening to the lonely, frightened dogs bark all around me. But I was not frightened anymore.

  This was a good place, I decided. It had bowls for food. It kept the rain from making me cold. And Megan was here, somewhere.

  I simply had to trust that she’d come back.

  5

  Megan did come back! And she brought more food! I was so excited that I leaped up from my carpet and danced with happiness. My tail wagged hard enough to make my entire spine wiggle.

  Megan laughed. She was happy to see me, too! I gobbled up the food, and then I let Megan pet me. Petting was marvelous. Megan even brought something to help her pet me, something she called a brush. She pulled it through my fur and it felt wonderful, scratching away itches I did not even know I had.

  And that was not the only time Megan came back. I saw her nearly every day. She would bring food—wonderful, wonderful food!—and pet me and she’d take me outside.

  We’d walk past pens where other dogs lived. I saw and smelled big ones, small ones, shaggy ones whose fur covered their eyes, sleek ones like me, tiny fluffy ones, and one long skinny one with very short legs who yapped to tell me he was the boss every time I walked past his pen.