Puppy Tales 05 - Shelby's Story

by Cameron, W Bruce

  “Shelby’s a natural,” Teresa said warmly.

  “She’s a star!” Bruce knelt down in the snow to say hello, and I gave his chin a lick to be polite. “What’s up with that little wooden thing?” he asked Teresa. “Why can’t she just go to you or April?”

  “She’s been learning to Go Mark pretty much since the first day I started training her,” Teresa told him. I looked around alertly. Was I supposed to go back to the disc? But Bruce kept scratching my neck and ears, so I guessed not right at that moment. I didn’t get petted when Training was happening.

  “It’s about the most important thing a movie dog needs to know,” Teresa went on. “She can’t just run to me or April or Brian because we can’t be in the shot. And often the script calls for her to get somewhere and do something—pause or turn or dig something up, or whatever. So she can’t just keep running out of the frame. She’s got to get to where the camera needs her to be, and then she’s got to stop. That’s how we get the shots we need.”

  “Okay, the next shot is over by the trees!” someone called out.

  “Come on, Shelby, time to work,” Teresa said.

  Bruce wanted to keep petting me, but I was busy. I had Training to do with Teresa. Bruce was nice, but he didn’t always understand that I had a job to do.

  We did a lot of Training that day. Over and over I showed all the people who wanted to watch me that I could do Go-Mark, no matter where Teresa put the little piece of wood. I did Go-Mark under trees and on big fields of snow. I raced up a hill and found my Go Mark on top of a big rock. Once I got there, I stood on top of the rock and barked as long and as loud as I could.

  Cathryn and Bruce had come to watch. “This is for the scene with Big Kitten,” I heard Cathryn tell Bruce. “You know, when the coyotes back the dog up against the rock and then Big Kitten comes and scares them away.”

  I knew what a kitten was. There had been some in the place with all the dogs in pens. But I didn’t see or smell any kittens, so I didn’t know what the humans were talking about.

  It didn’t matter too much, because I got a treat from Teresa and praise for finding my Go Mark from April and Brian. Bruce told me over and over what a good dog I was. He found a stick and we wrestled with it. I guessed that’s why he’d come to this mountain, to play with me, because he didn’t seem to have much else to do with his life.

  If he needed a job, I wished he’d go and get my squeaky toy out of the box in our tent. But he didn’t seem bright enough to figure out where it was. I felt a little sorry for him, even though Cathryn seemed to be his person and she was very nice. I wondered if Cathryn had found Bruce the way Megan found me: living in a place with plastic bags and birds and rats.

  After I won Tug-on-a-Stick with Bruce, Teresa took me to one side of a big field of snow. I saw April on the other side. She waved and called my name. I looked up at Teresa.

  Teresa nodded down at me. “Go, Shelby!” she said. She snapped off my leash. “Go!”

  That was great! I loved leaping through the snow, kicking up big sprays from under my claws. The snowflakes showered all over my fur and quickly melted, soaking me down to the skin. I bounded to April’s side and someone yelled, “Cut!”

  April told me I was a good dog and gave me a treat from her mittened hand. “Better dry you off,” she told me. She had a nice warm towel over her arm, and she put it over me and rubbed and rubbed.

  I wiggled with happiness and licked her face to show them how much I appreciated all the attention. Maybe that’s what “Cut!” meant—“Rub Shelby with a warm towel!” Was that why people kept yelling that word? If so, I liked it a lot. It was nearly as good as “treat” or “walk” or “good dog.”

  Once I was dry, April walked me back over to Teresa and we did the running again. And again.

  When I was panting from all the exercise, Teresa took me back to the tent and let me sit in front of a big fan to cool off. There were other times, when we had to wait for the people to move their ladders and platforms and cameras around, that I’d get cold. Then Teresa would make sure I had my coat and boots on and take me to sit in front of the special light that made everything so warm.

  Teresa always knew what I needed. I loved her. I loved making her happy when I did Go-Mark or ran across the snow to April.

  But sometimes I did get tired of the way humans like to do the same tricks over and over again. I liked it much better when Teresa taught me new tricks. When would she start teaching me some new tricks again?

  * * *

  Once I’d finished all my jobs, Teresa took me for a car ride again and then to a small room with a bed in it, a lot like the ones we’d stayed at before. It was nice because I got to sleep on the bed beside Teresa, but it wasn’t really home. Home was my pack and the backyard with lizards to chase and even the strange bird in the pen who barked at me. Would we ever go back there? Or were we in this new place to stay?

  We didn’t go home the next day. And we didn’t head up the mountain again, either. Instead, we drove through a town and got out at a quiet street. Lots of people were there, just like the day before, with their black boxes and lights and clipboards and papers and cups of coffee. Bruce and Cathryn were there, too, just watching.

  Teresa did something very odd. She handed my leash to a woman who was waiting on the sidewalk! This woman seemed nice, but didn’t Teresa know what a leash was for? It was supposed to keep her connected to me, so that we’d never be apart. I looked up at her and whined a bit, to remind her.

  “Don’t worry, Shelby,” Teresa said. She bent down to rub my ears. “Just go for a walk, okay? This is an easy one. Just take a walk.”

  I knew she was talking to me, since she’d said my name, and her voice was calm and reassuring. So when the woman tugged gently on my leash, I followed her along the sidewalk. But I looked back at Teresa to be sure she wasn’t going anywhere.

  There was only a little snow here, and I wasn’t the first dog to walk in it. There were footprints and yellow stains that I needed to sniff. I was busy doing this when a wonderful sound caught my ear.

  Squeak!

  Someone had finally remembered to take my squeaky toy out of the box! But where was it, exactly? I needed to find it!

  I stood still, pulling a little against the leash, and strained my ears. There it was again! Down the block—and up? That was odd. How could my toy be high up in the air?

  The woman seemed to know that I had something important to take care of. She dropped my leash so that I could run. I tore down the block with my ears wide open, waiting for the next squeak.

  There it came! Right above me! I skidded to a stop and looked up into a tree whose bare branches spread overhead. Crouched on one of those branches was Brian—and in Brian’s hand was my toy!

  I jumped up to put my front paws on the tree trunk and bark up at Brian, telling him to come down with my toy. Right now!

  “Cut!” someone yelled.

  Brian did something even better than coming down with my toy—he dropped it. I snatched it up in midair and bit down hard, with a loud, satisfying squeeeeeeeeak!

  Maybe “Cut!” didn’t mean anything about rubbing me with a towel after all. Maybe it meant “Give Shelby the squeaky toy!” If that was the case, I hoped the people would say it all day long.

  Teresa came to take my leash as Brian climbed down. Bruce followed Teresa. “Such a good dog, Shelby!” he said to me, and put his hand down near my nose. “Can I play with the toy?” he asked me.

  I could tell what he wanted, and I turned my head away while still keeping a careful eye on him. If he thought I was going to give him my squeaky toy, he was even dumber than he looked.

  Bruce laughed. He didn’t try to take the toy away from me, though. Good. This was not the time for a game of I’ve-Got-the-Toy-And-You-Don’t. I could tell, just by looking up at Teresa, that we had more Training to do.

  Training was more important than playing. It wasn’t just that I got treats when we did Training (although of
course that was nice). It was a job, and that was one of the reasons I loved it so much.

  For a long time, the only job I had was filling my stomach. Now I had bowls of food every day, but even more important, I had Teresa and I had Training. I had work to do and a person to do it with. A dog needs both of those things.

  Most people understood. That’s why they came to watch me train and called, “Cut!” so I could get my rewards. They knew how much Training mattered.

  But Bruce just wanted to play all the time. Somebody needed to explain things to him. He would probably understand better if he had some sort of job to do himself.

  * * *

  Days and days went by, and Teresa kept finding new places for us to do Training. Once she took me to a place a little like the beach, except that the water was not as big and did not make hills that swept up to flatten themselves on the sand. Instead, this water rushed past as if in a hurry to get somewhere. I almost thought the water wanted to play Chase-Me and that’s why it was moving so fast, but I couldn’t play just then. Teresa and I had a job to do.

  There were people standing around, as usual. One man was by the water, wearing very tall boots that went over his knees. He seemed to be trying to play with the water just as I’d thought about doing, but he wanted to play Fetch instead of Chase-Me. He didn’t quite understand how to do it right. He had a stick—that was good—but instead of throwing the stick, he just waved it at the water. A long string tied to one end of the stick flung itself a long way over the water and the man pulled it back in.

  A basket sat by the man’s feet, and I could smell something interesting in there. A fish! Teresa took me over to show me the basket, and the man looked down at me and smiled and kept throwing his string in the water.

  Sticks are better to throw than strings, but I guessed he didn’t know that.

  I looked up at Teresa. What kind of Training were we going to do here?

  “Okay, Shelby,” Teresa told me. She pointed at the fish basket. “Pick It Up!”

  So that was what we were doing here! Immediately I snatched the basket up in my teeth. That fish smelled so delicious; I was longing to eat it. But I knew that eating what I picked up was not a part of Training.

  “Good girl,” Teresa said. She pointed at Brian, who was standing not too far away with a box at his feet. “Put It in There!”

  I trotted over to Brian and dropped the fish basket in the box. He told me I was a good dog, which I already knew, but it was nice to hear anyway. And he gave me a treat.

  Then Brian picked up the basket and gave it back to the man with the stick, who put it on the ground near his feet again.

  Really? After I’d just gone to all the trouble of taking the basket away?

  The standing-around people gathered a little closer to the man by the river, and two of them pointed their cameras at me.

  “Shelby,” Teresa said to me. “Pick It Up! Put It in There!”

  I knew what to do, of course.

  The man with the stick was staring out across the water at his string. He did not even notice when I went up to the basket and picked it up for a second time.

  I headed over to Brian.

  Then the man noticed! He made a funny noise and dropped his stick. I looked back at him in surprise, the basket still in my mouth. He took a few steps toward me.

  Did he want the basket back? I wasn’t done with it yet. “Put It in There!” Teresa called out, but she didn’t have to say that. I already knew.

  The man must have decided that if I had the basket it must be play time, because as I ran away, he flopped backward into the water to go swimming. We should have brought Hercules!

  “Cut!” somebody yelled.

  There was that word again, “Cut.” I did not know why people kept saying it. I glanced over at Bruce, but of course, he didn’t seem to know either.

  I was glad when we finished playing Pick It Up. Next I got to run and race as fast as I could along the riverbank. That was great! I’d run to Teresa, who’d tell me what a good dog I was. Then I’d run to Brian, who’d tell me the same thing.

  It felt so good to run, digging my claws into the mud, using all the strength in my legs, the wind rushing past my face, full of wonderful smells—trees and wet dirt and moving water, fish and squirrels and animals with stripy tails—I couldn’t see any, but I could smell that they’d walked over this ground in the night. And people, of course, and treats!

  “Cut!” someone yelled, and Teresa gave me a treat. Maybe that’s what “Cut!” meant—“Give Shelby a treat!”

  Hmmm. How could I get the people to say “Cut!” more often?

  11

  Another day Teresa took me to do Training by a campfire. I was interested in the campfire—it was even hotter than the special lamp in my tent, and it smelled smoky. What smelled even better, though, was the ham! Three men were sitting around the fire, talking, but the air was filled with the amazing smell of ham, which I easily detected coming from a big plastic box. The men had drinks that came in cans. A big, shiny pickup truck was parked nearby.

  As usual, lots of people were standing around watching. Which job did they want to see me do today? Whatever it was, could it have something to do with that ham? It smelled marvelous—salty and meaty and delicious. I looked up at Teresa. My tail began to wag. A little drool slipped out of my mouth.

  Teresa unfastened my leash. “Okay, Shelby, you can go,” she said softly. She nodded at the campfire.

  The men were so nice! I approached slowly, tail wagging, head down to show that I was not going to nose open that box to snatch the ham from them, but if they wanted to share I was very interested in that. They seemed to understand, because they talked to me in friendly voices and one of them pulled the ham out of the box and held it out to me.

  I took it carefully from his fingers. It tasted just as good as it smelled. My tail wagged faster.

  While I ate, one of the men reached over and took off my collar and looked at the tag hanging from it. What a funny thing to do! I didn’t mind, though, because he gave me another bite of ham.

  Then one of the men yelled.

  I backed away, startled. The men were startled, too. I could tell because they all jumped up and dropped what they were holding. Two of them tried to run around the campfire and thumped into each other and fell down. None of them seemed to be thinking about me anymore.

  They weren’t thinking about the bag of ham, either, because they just left it lying right there in the dirt beside the campfire.

  All three men raced over to the pickup truck and dove in the back. That ham was still there.

  I looked over at Teresa. She nodded. “Pick It Up! Put It in There!” she called to me.

  I could do Pick It Up the ham! That was a lot better than doing Pick It Up the fish basket!

  I snatched the whole bag of ham up in my mouth. Then I pranced over to Teresa, who told me I’d been a good girl.

  I wasn’t sure why. I always picked up food that was on the floor. Teresa didn’t usually tell me I’d been good when I did that.

  Bruce and Cathryn had come to stand with Teresa. “So that was the cougar scene?” Bruce asked. “Without a cougar in it?”

  “Right,” Cathryn told him. “The actors just had to pretend they’d seen a cougar in the woods.”

  “They’ll edit in shots of the cougar later, and it’ll look like it was there all the time,” Teresa added.

  I sat patiently, that bag of ham in my mouth, wondering if anyone would mind if I sort of bit through the plastic a little. I knew how to tear open plastic and was actually pretty good at it.

  “And what about your voice, when you tell Shelby what to do?” Bruce asked her. “Doesn’t that get recorded?” He put out his hand and patted me on the head. But he didn’t try to take the ham away from me, so maybe he was smarter than he looked.

  “My voice does get recorded, but they edit it out later,” Teresa told him. “Otherwise Shelby wouldn’t know what to do. Okay, Shelby,
drop the ham now,” she said to me.

  I could tell she was talking to me, but I wasn’t sure what she wanted. I looked up at her, confused. She had something in her hand. She squeezed it. It squeaked.

  My ears perked up and my tail swished. My toy! Teresa wiggled it enticingly. I hesitated. I wanted the toy … but I wanted the ham, too. To get the toy, I’d have to give up the ham.

  The ham was delicious. But the toy was … the toy!

  I opened my mouth and let the bag of ham fall to the ground so that I could snatch the toy from Teresa’s hand and give it a good squeeze to make it squeak. Then I almost dropped it again so I could pick up the ham, but Teresa was too quick for me. She’d already snatched the ham up from the ground.

  It was very confusing. When I had the ham in my mouth, I wanted the toy. When I had the toy, I wanted the ham.

  If people were so smart they could open doors and fill bowls with dog food, why couldn’t they figure out how to make a ham that squeaked?

  Bruce couldn’t do it, obviously, or those men around the campfire. But I was sure that some of the smart ones could make it happen if they just put their minds to it.

  * * *

  I got to go on a short car ride with Teresa after our visit to the campfire. Bruce and Cathryn came along, too. Cathryn rode in front with Teresa, and Bruce sat in back with me.

  I didn’t let him have a turn with the squeaky toy. I knew he probably wanted it, but he needed to understand that it was mine.

  “Which scene is next?” Bruce asked Teresa. “I don’t know how everybody keeps track, when they’re shooting everything out of order.”

  “It’s the scene where the dog digs up the deer carcass and drags it away,” Teresa told him.

  When we got out of the car, I knew right away which job I was going to do, because there was that big box I’d just seen at the riverside, the Put It in There box.

  What would Teresa want me to work with this time? I hoped it would not be the squeaky toy. I loved Pick It Up, but I wouldn’t want to Put It In There. The squeaky toy did not belong anywhere but in my mouth.