Shep continued, “And your families, they’re survivors, too. We’ve all lived through something terrible. Our families need dogs who can understand what they’ve been through. They need us.”
Tails began to wag. The dogs began to snuffle to one another under their breaths.
“Remember when I dropped that brush right on the head of a wild dog?” Ginny yipped.
“I’ve dug up food from wrecks that would turn the nose of the other schnauzers at the old Park,” muttered Rufus, a smile on his jowls.
Pumpkin stared at them all from a perch on a block of stone. “I could totally make a story from this,” she woofed, mesmerized.
Dover sat beside Boji, who stared listlessly out at the rolling waves. “Cycles ago, before there was gray in my muzzle, I had a mate, Edie. She could eye a bird better than any retriever I’ve known. Lost her during a hunt to a water lizard,” he yipped. “I was so angry after she was gone.”
Boji glanced up at him, gave a small flick of her tail. “What did you do?”
Dover licked her nose. “I used it,” he woofed. “Became the best retriever I could be. Never missed a bird, not even if it landed on a water lizard’s back.”
Oscar began attacking the waves as they rolled onto the shore. “I’m a survivor!” he yelped, diving nose-first into the surf.
“Last one in is a soggy kibble!” howled Callie, leaping into an oncoming wave.
All the dogs began to run in the shallows. Pumpkin pounced on the low waves as they curled up toward the sand and Daisy barked at the swimming silver creatures that floated in the clear tide. Even Zeus hobbled into the surf for a few heartbeats. Spray flew up from the dogs’ soaked fur, creating fragile rainbows in the morning light.
Callie jumped on Shep’s back, and the two rolled in the wet sand.
“You did it again,” she woofed.
“Well, I am the alpha,” he barked, tail wagging.
“No,” she said. “You’re more than an alpha. You’re a friend.” She nipped his scruff and hopped out into the shallows. “Great Wolf, I’ll miss this!” she cried as she bounded through the bubbling surf.
Shep panted. Her woofs broke his heart all over again. They would never again be as free as they were at this heartbeat, and yet he knew now that he would go home, leave this life behind and pick up the pieces of his life with his boy. Somehow, knowing this made him feel both better and worse.
“First dog to nip my scruff gets a bite of the biggest swimmy-thing I catch!” Shep raced up the beach, then wheeled into the oncoming waves. He smelled Boji right on his tail.
“I’ve got you!” she howled.
Shep pushed off a lump of rough stone on the sandy bottom and felt nothing beneath his paws. The cuts in his fur from the fence stung, but he swam on, digging his legs through the water, swimming deeper, enjoying the strangeness of floating.
“A shepherd can’t outswim a retriever!” Boji barked from a stretch or two behind.
There was a tail-wagging tone to her woof; she’d reclaimed some of the happy Beaujolais of yester-sun. Shep looked up at the bright blue of the sky and hoped that he’d made YipYowl and Frizzle and even the Great Wolf himself proud.
Shep turned back toward the shore, sensing his muscles were tiring. Then he felt something huge bump against his chest. A heartbeat later, before he could even process its touch, its teeth snapped around his ribs. He couldn’t breathe; the creature seemed to be sucking at his flesh. He dug his paws into the water and his claws hit the thick hide of the monster.
“Help!” he howled.
His packmates’ ears all pricked and he saw them all come splashing toward him. His front paw hit sand. Shep dragged himself another step and stumbled. He felt the lifeblood oozing from him; ribbons of red clouded the water. The creature thrashed against his legs, its sharp thorn of a fin slashing the ruddy water’s surface. The monster was pulling him down. He couldn’t stay afloat much longer.
“Use it!” barked Boji, slamming her paws into whatever held Shep.
And the jaws released him.
Shep saw a gray blur move under the water.
He fell limply into the glassy pool.
Great Wolf …
It was dark. Shep wondered whether he was dead. Above him spun the fires of the Great Wolf’s coat. Was he a part of that sparkling blackness?
No, he hurt too much. Thin cuts stung the skin along his belly and sides, and it felt like several of his ribs were broken. Every breath was a pain like he’d just left the fight cage.
“He’s awake!” It was Oscar’s tremulous yip.
“Oh, thank Lassie and the Great Wolf and every other dog in the sky!” barked Ginny.
The Silver Moon floated bright and full atop the Great Wolf’s glittering fur; Shep’s packmates shone silver against the night in its glow.
Boji licked Shep’s jowls. “You came back to us,” she woofed.
Shep lifted his head. “What happened?”
“Some huge fish with a pointy fin on its back!” barked Pumpkin. “We only saw it after it bit you, but holy treats, it was a monster!” She seemed excited, as if he hadn’t nearly been turned into kibble.
The pack had dragged him up the beach into the lee of a toppled palm trunk. Callie and Fuzz huddled together under the canopy of dried fronds in front of him. Callie’s face sagged. Fuzz was wrapped around himself in a knot of fur.
“We thought we lost you,” Callie snuffled. “What would I have done if I lost you?”
Shep tried to lift himself to his paws, but fell back onto the sand — the pain was too great.
“Don’t move, you fuzz head,” she yipped, shuffling to sit beside his muzzle. She licked his jowls, then his eyes, then his whole snout. “Don’t you leave me again.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Shep woofed.
Boji licked his chest. Shep felt her tongue rasp over a cut and winced.
“Sorry!” she yipped. “Just cleaning away some sand.”
Shep lifted his head again. “Boji,” he grunted. “You saved me.”
She smiled and waved her tail. “I used my anger,” she snuffled.
“You’re a hero,” Shep woofed.
Boji ducked her snout. “No,” she mumbled.
Dover licked her head like a proud sire. “Don’t be modest,” he said, nudging her snout up. “You are a hero, Beaujolais.”
Daisy snorted a chant, “Bo-ji, Bo-ji,” and soon all the dogs were baying her name and running around her in the sand, waving their tails — all except Zeus, who skulked into the shadows. Shep even coughed out a few “Bo-ji’s” before his chest hurt too much to move.
After all the stress and worry of the sun, the dogs soon tired. One by one, they came panting back toward the palm trunk. They snuggled near Shep, careful not to touch him.
Shep hid his pain from them as much as he could: He didn’t want them to worry. But he wondered whether he was going to be able to make it down the beach anytime soon.
Pumpkin flopped next to his nose. “You know,” she woofed, “I misjudged you.”
Shep shifted his shoulder to relieve pressure on his ribs. “Really?” he moaned. “You think I’m all friendly now?”
“Not about that, silly fur!” she yipped, then she lowered her head. “I mean, Callie woofed that you’ve really been working on not attacking people, which is totally snugglelicious.” She licked her jowls. “Anyway, I mean I misjudged you as a leader. I really thought you were kind of, well, terrible, what with all the human-attacking and making the others feel bad about going home —”
“Your point?” Shep grumbled.
“You made your pack feel stronger,” she said. “What you woofed made a bunch of scared, sad dogs feel brave and loved.” She flicked her tail. “Anyhoo, the real point is, you gave me an idea for a story. I finally came up with one of my own! Do you want to hear it?”
“I want to hear it,” snuffled Callie from her nest in the sand. The others lifted their heads, ears pricked, to listen.
Once, in the Park, a bright yellow dandelion bloomed amidst the green grass. The sun shone down on the flower, and the flower grew. It burst into a puff of white-tufted seedlings. As the warm breezes blew by the puff, each seed was carried off. The seeds swirled, happy in the gentle winds, and looked down on the glittering world beneath them.
One evening, a storm growled and grumbled. Fierce winds snatched the seedlings away from the gentle breezes. The seeds clung to their white tufts, wondering how they would survive this blustery storm.
The winds swirled into a great spire, and one seedling caught sight of her brother.
“Hold me close!” the seedling cried, and the two seedlings clung together.
More seedlings were sucked into the circling wind, and they all held on to each other for safety. Soon, the snuggled seedlings were again a white puff. It no longer mattered where the winds pushed them — the soft sphere of their tufts protected all the seedlings. They held one another, and in that holding, every seedling kept safe.
The storm died down and the gentle breezes returned. They cried out for the seedlings they loved. Though the seedlings were warm and safe inside the puff, they missed blowing about with their gentle winds. The seeds gave each other one final hug, and then burst apart like an exploding star. Each drifted into its own breeze, and each breeze lovingly caressed its seedling.
When Pumpkin finished, she waved her tail, ears pricked. “What do you think?” she yipped.
Shep looked down at Fuzz and Callie on either side of him, at his packmates around him, and felt warm and loved and sad all at the same time.
“That was a good story, Pumpkin,” he woofed.
Pumpkin smiled, then snuggled down into her fur and closed her eyes.
Shep couldn’t sleep — everything hurt too much — and he could tell Fuzz was awake, too, keeping watch over him.
“I’m okay, Fuzz,” Shep woofed. “You can sleep.”
Fuzz flicked his cat-eyes at Shep, then closed them again. The tip of his tail tapped against the sand. “Fuzz have to watch Shep-dog,” the cat mewed. “Make sure air go in, then come out.”
“Don’t worry a whisker about me,” Shep snuffled. “I’ve survived worse.” He turned his hips and pain shot up his spine. “Anyway, we’re almost to the shelter. You’ll have a hard time watching me when you’re home with your family.”
“Fuzz only family was Honey-friend.” His meow-bark broke off as if his lungs had failed him. “Honey-friend was Fuzz home.”
“How can a dog be a home?” Shep woofed, not sure why this subject made his skin feel all tingly.
The cat hissed a pant, smiling. “Shep-dog think home is dog-bed? Home is walls and roof and bowl of kibble? No,” Fuzz meowed. “Walls of home is walls of heart.”
Shep closed his eyes and saw Callie, her muzzle on his shoulder as they stared out the window hole at the storm. He felt Blaze’s soft fur against his back. His boy’s hand in his scruff. And Fuzz’s green eyes glowing in the dim moonlight. This was love. These dogs and boy and cat were his home.
“I understand,” he snuffled.
Then he straightened his head so he could look Fuzz directly in the eyes. “I want you to know, Fuzz, you can stay with me.”
The cat didn’t move; the tip of his tail flicked.
“Whatever it takes to convince my family, I’ll do it.” He licked the cat’s nose. “You’re part of my home now,” Shep added.
Fuzz ran a paw over his snout, then purred. “Shep-dog part of Fuzz home now, too.”
The sun rose in a clear sky — it would be hot later, so Shep barked every dog awake. He wanted to get as much sand under their paws as possible before the sun got over their backs. Now that he’d made up his mind to go home, he was eager to get there.
Shep rolled to get his front paws under him and cried out in pain. Callie and Fuzz were beside him in a heartbeat.
“Shep-dog bleeding,” the cat hissed. “Dog-pack must wait!”
“If we wait until I stop bleeding,” Shep woofed, “we’ll be here two more suns.” He shuffled his paws closer to his chest and tried again to stand. This time, he managed to rise to his paws.
“See?” he yipped, wincing with every breath. “All better.”
Callie watched his trembling legs with wide eyes and pricked ears. “Your chest is leaking,” she barked.
Shep looked between his legs. Red drops fell from his fur. “It’ll stop,” he woofed. He took a step forward; his legs gave out and he landed snout-first in the sand.
Boji licked one of the cuts and whimpered. “I don’t think another sun or two is going to do it.”
Pumpkin looked down the beach, then back at Shep, then at the beach, all the while trembling. “I don’t mean to be the flea in every dog’s coat,” she moaned, “but the humans are going back to their dens. Every heartbeat we stay makes it less likely our families will be at the shelter when we arrive.”
The pack began to whimper. Shep smelled their fear of losing their families forever, but also their anxiety at the thought of having to leave him. He had to make the decision for them.
“You go on,” he barked. “I’ll follow your scent in a few suns.”
Oscar strutted to the center of the pack. “No way,” he barked. “We wait until you’re better.” He gave Pumpkin a cool stare, complete with a one-eyed squint. “He’s our alpha — our champion. We don’t leave without him.”
“Fuzz stay,” the cat meowed.
“We all stay,” barked Daisy, stepping up to stand beside Oscar. “We’re a pack.” She looked down at him like a proud dam. Oscar smiled up at her, tail happily whipping in circles.
The other dogs waved their tails in agreement.
“Of course we stay,” woofed Callie, smiling.
Pumpkin looked at the long stretch of beach and whimpered, then threw herself onto her belly.
Zeus hobbled down from the nearest pile of wreckage. “He can use the wagon,” the boxer barked. He limped across the sand, holding his injured paw against his chest. In his jaws he held what looked like an orange balloon.
Shep immediately scented for what treachery Zeus was plotting. He smelled nothing. The other dogs seemed just as wary. All except the pup.
“How will you walk?” yipped Oscar, padding toward Zeus.
Zeus spat the balloon on the sand. It was a strange balloon — it wasn’t round, but rather tube shaped and about the length of a snout. Zeus gritted his teeth and jammed his hurt paw into its center.
“See,” he grumbled. “Better than a wagon.” He took a step forward and the bright orange tube held his weight.
Oscar’s tail began to wag ecstatically. “You wanted to help Shep. That’s why you were away all night!” he yipped. “I knew you were a good dog!” The pup leapt at Zeus’s nose, licking the air.
Zeus grimaced and ducked away from the bouncing brown snout. “I didn’t want to ride in the wagon anymore,” he grunted. “It’s rubbing the fur from my skin. I was going to leave it here no matter what.”
Callie raised an eyebrow and gave Zeus a once-over sniff, complete with snaggletoothed smirk. “If you aren’t going to use it,” she woofed finally, “then I see no reason not to load Shep into it.”
Daisy strutted over to the wagon and snuffled along its every surface. “It doesn’t — snort — smell like he did anything to it,” she barked. She kicked one of the fat wheels and the wagon rumbled down the sand toward the bubbling surf.
“What would I have done and why would I have done it?” Zeus snapped. “I just woofed that I was leaving it here with the rest of the trash. If Shep can’t walk, he might as well use it.”
Shep wanted to run over to Zeus and roll him in the sand. There was some of the old Zeus left in him! But one look at the scowl on Fuzz’s muzzle kept Shep where he lay — that, and the fact that he couldn’t stand.
Pumpkin burst up from her sand nest, spraying white grit everywhere. “We’re going home!” she howled.
We’re going home, Shep t
hought.
The destroyed buildings along the beach were hard to tell apart — one pile of cracked stone and broken glass looked just like the next. But not even the world-crushing wave could wipe the scent of Pumpkin’s home completely from the earth. She paused in the sand and took a long, deep sniff.
“Home,” she snuffled. Then she dove headlong into the nearest space in the slabs of stone.
Shep barked for the group to stop. He flicked his tail for Fuzz to follow her. The cat bounded over the rubble and off the beach.
Boji spat the wagon’s rope from her slobbery jowls and flopped, panting, in the sand; she and Dover had been taking turns pulling Shep down the beach onto the wagon. Though Shep hated being so useless, he had little choice in the matter. His sides still ached with every breath.
The others sat on the sand, ears pricked and noses open. After several heartbeats, Fuzz appeared on top of a cracked wall, nodded his head, and disappeared again.
“We’re here,” Shep woofed.
The dogs wound their way through the wreckage. It was as if what sand had been taken from the beach now coated the streets: Drifts formed against every wall and tree. Dead palm fronds and leaves covered the sand, along with the usual trash and den debris.
The terrain was bumpy as a water lizard’s hide, which made moving the wagon even more difficult. Boji pulled from the front and Dover pushed with his head from behind. The others nosed aside what obstacles they could to give Boji and Dover a clear path.
Zeus hobbled past them, a smirk on his jowls. “Now you smell why I ditched the thing,” he growled, wincing as he stepped on his balloon-paw.
Boji glanced at the boxer and raised her hackles, but kept her growl to herself. “It’s almost like he wants us to hate him,” she snuffled.
Shep tried to shift his weight in the wagon. “Maybe if I helped you to push with my hind legs?” he woofed.
Dover rested a paw on Shep’s flank. “It’s time to let this pack carry you, the way you’ve carried us all these suns.”
The Return Page 12
