Missing Toby

by Jill Harris

  “Oh, thank you very, very much!” Harriet’s face wrinkled with smiling.

  They reached Max’s driveway and said goodbye. Harriet and her mother walked on.

  “Nice man,” said her mother.

  “Fantastic dog,” said Harriet. “I’m sure he understands what I’m saying to him.”

  Harriet’s mum smiled. “The dog seems to like you, Harry, but for goodness sake don’t let him get out.”

  “Don’t worry, Mum, everything will be under perfect control.”

  “What’s the postie brought us?” said her mother at the gate. She pulled out some letters. “There’s something else.” She took out a book. “Whatever’s this?”

  It was an old paperback, well-read and curled at the edges. “Bridge to Terabithia,” she read. “Do you know anything about this, Harriet?”

  “No – is there a name inside?” Harriet opened the cover. “To Maddy, with much love from Teddy,” she read. “Oh!” she said, for underneath that was more writing, in wavery letters: “To Harriet from Maddy.”

  Harriet stared. “I don’t know anyone called Maddy,” she said. “Do you think it’s been put here by mistake?”

  “It is strange,” said her mother, “but I think it’s meant for you, Harry. You could read it, and that might give you a clue about who it’s from.”

  Harriet took the mysterious book up to her bedroom. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to read it or not.

  Beginning of the Partnership

  “She’s one of the good ones,” said Max. “We’ve nothing to worry about. She mentioned the dog catcher, and realises the risk we’re taking by visiting Brutus.”

  “You say she’ll be calling in to see you after school. We might be able to train her to help with the odd job.”

  “How?” asked Max.

  “Well, she might be able to speak to an owner and save us a lot of time.” Gus scratched his ear. “It’s a funny word ‘owner’ – as if they’re the top dogs, giving all the orders, and we just go along with it. But they need us as much as we need them. We’re their nose and ears if there’s a fire, or an earthquake’s coming – we know about it before they do – and we’ve got the networks.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Max. “Remember that time there was a burglar in Moa Street and Elmer sent out a call. Every one of us got into the act. There was such a hullabaloo the burglar took off on foot and forgot his van!”

  “There’s more to it than that,” said Gus. “We can pick up on tiny signals. We know when they’re miserable – or sick. You can smell it. To be fair, there are owners who can tell when we’re miserable or sick, too. We’re lucky, Max. We’ve got good … partners is the word I want, not owners.”

  “Do you really think we could use Harriet?” asked Max. “Wouldn’t want to get her into trouble. Would it work having a human in on things? They can be awfully slow on the uptake – look how we can understand them but they can’t understand us.”

  “Just a thought,” replied Gus.

  The Howards were out and the dogs were having an uninterrupted chat. Gus usually came over because Max was the one who had to get back into his collar as soon as they heard the car. Gus was never tied up – his owner didn’t believe in it. “Dogs are free spirits,” he said. “Besides, Gus knows the score – if he has to go off on an errand, it’s probably important. He can look after himself.”

  As the trees changed from green to black against the sky, the evening Woof came in – very little to report – and the neighbourhood drifted into darkness.

  “Tonight’s the night,” said Gus. “We can’t let that stranger dog roam around any longer. Poor thing’s probably half-starved. I’ll dig up a bone – the smell will pull her in.”

  After Gus had gone home, Max stood watching the moon through the trees. The branches got in the way of seeing the dogs in the moon. He didn’t really believe in dogs up there – it was just a way of explaining the shadow-shapes to puppies. The moonlight always made him notice things more – like the warm tiles under his paws, and the perfume of the flowers. Sometimes he wondered if he could make a wish when the moon was round. There was only one thing he’d wish for – a straight tail. He imagined himself strolling past Lulu, feathery tail out behind him, ignoring her obvious admiration, but throwing a crooked smile towards Minnie. He imagined Minnie’s soft eyes … He shook himself. For goodness sake, Max, he thought, get real!

  Later that evening Gus and Max turned left along the road to the corner, keeping to the shadows. Gus was carrying a bone which made Max dribble with longing. He dropped the bone close to a bush. They settled underneath a parked truck, with a clear view in several directions. The road was still warm and Gus was inclined to drop off to sleep – Max had to nudge him awake.

  It was a quiet road with hardly any cars. They pricked up their ears when small creatures made movements in the bushes. Trees waved their branches and made shadows move on the road. A cat jumped from a fence, stepped daintily up to the bone, but recoiled from the odour and went on its way.

  But the sounds and movements, and particularly the smells, carried no messages of an approaching dog. Finally they crawled out.

  “We have to prove we mean no harm,” said Gus. “We may have to do this for several nights.”

  “Should we go as far as the Old House and see if there’s any sign of her?” suggested Max.

  Gus looked uneasy. “Not at night,” he replied. “There’s something funny about that house.”

  Suddenly loud barking disturbed the night.

  “Prancing poodles!” exclaimed Gus. “What’s that?”

  “It’s Elmer,” said Max. “What’s worrying him?”

  “Go back,” shouted Elmer. “Don’t be stupid. That won’t help you.”

  Gus and Max looked at each other anxiously. “It couldn’t be …”

  “Surely not.”

  They waited, but Elmer was silent.

  “We can’t check that out tonight,” said Gus. “Let’s go home.” He picked up the bone.

  “Would you like me to carry that, Gus?”

  Gus looked amused. “How thoughtful of you, Max. I’d let you have it but there’s nowhere in that fancy garden of yours where you could bury it.”

  Max looked crestfallen.

  “I’ll save it for you, old friend,” said Gus. “I’ll bring it over next time.”

  Max took a deep sniff of the bone. “Just to keep me going,” he said.

  As they turned back along the road, something white flashed in the trees.

  Max twitched his nose. “She’s there,” he murmured. “Maybe she’ll come out tomorrow night.”

  But Gus knew there was something else as well in those trees. The hair along his back stood up. It wasn’t dangerous, or unfamiliar, but Gus liked things out in the open. He was glad to follow Max home. As they moved off, two pairs of eyes followed them. When the dogs had disappeared into the hydrangeas, a figure slipped out on to the road and headed towards the park.

  In the park next morning Max made straight for Elmer.

  “What was all that about last night?” he asked.

  “It’s Brutus. He’s slipping his collar and roaming through gardens at night. One of these days he’ll go on the street and get caught by the dog catcher.

  “Oh dear,” sighed Max. “He’s already had a go at the girl next door. He cannot control his mouth, even after several lessons.” Max frowned. “I wish we hadn’t taught him how to slip his collar, but how else was he to get water? We’ve solved one problem, but created a worse one.”

  “It might be a jolly good thing if he is caught,” said Elmer. “Then his owner will have to front up. Except that he won’t have his collar on, so how will they trace the owner?”

  Before Max could answer, the rain started and the owners called their dogs in.

  Max couldn’t tell Gus about Brutus till later in the afternoon when Gus got back from the vet.

  “There’s something not quite right about Brutus,” he concluded, “a
bit of the mongrel.”

  “What do you mean by that?” asked Gus.

  “You know – something wild. It’s how humans describe dogs who don’t know how to behave.”

  “I don’t think that’s –” Gus began, but at that moment they heard the gate clang. Max dashed into his kennel. Along the path came Harriet. She stopped in surprise when she saw Gus.

  “But this is where Max lives,” she cried.

  Max came out of his kennel and Harriet beamed. “Both of you! Do you two live here together?”

  She sat on the tiles between them and patted the dogs. “You are smiling,” she said as they stretched their lips back.

  Gus leaned against her and his tail thumped. She stroked his floppy ears. “Like velvet,” she said. “What’s your name?”

  Max could hear that the Rush had started. Better get into my collar, he thought. No sooner had he done so when a face looked over the fence.

  “Oh, there you are, Gus. Don’t want to break up the party but you’d better come home for your pill, old sport.” The man smiled at Harriet. “Hello, young lady. Where do you come from?”

  “I’m Harriet. I live nearby. Mr Howard said I could visit Max after school. Is your dog called Gus?”

  “He is,” said the man, “and I’m Mr Jacobs. Pleased to meet you, Harriet. I expect we’ll see more of you. These two are great mates – goodness knows what they get up to.” He winked at Harriet and disappeared.

  Gus got up slowly. “Better be off. Some new-fangled stuff the vet says I have to take,” he grunted. He licked Harriet on her nose and strolled over to the hydrangeas. Harriet watched him go. I bet that’s where they get in and out, she thought, but maybe I’m not supposed to know. She turned to Max. “Fancy you being neighbours – it means I’ll be able to see you both.”

  She undid the rope. “We can play ball,” she said, “but where is it?” Max sniffed around till he found a ball. He dropped it at Harriet’s feet, looking up at her with his head on one side. She threw the ball as high as she could and Max caught it as it fell.

  “Amazing, Max,” she said, and he looked away and sniffed the ground.

  When it was time to go, she tied him up again. “This is a joke,” she said, “but I mustn’t give the game away.”

  Max held up one paw, the way the man had taught him. Harriet shook it. “Thank you for having me,” she said, and skipped along the path. At the gate she turned and waved. She felt happier than she had for ages – since Toby left, in fact.

  Attack

  The next night Gus and Max dropped another bone and retreated under the truck. They knew the stray dog was somewhere nearby, but she wouldn’t come out. As they left, she allowed them to catch a glimpse of her. They realised it was her way of saying, “I’m not sure I can trust you yet.”

  The following night when they arrived at the corner, Max asked, “Why are we hiding? She knows we’re here.”

  “True,” replied Gus, “but it’s a great spot to wait.”

  “I hope that’s not the bone you promised me,” said Max eyeing what Gus was carrying. It was slimy and rotten – perfect for chewing.

  “It’s not as big as yours,” said Gus. “She needs a smaller one because we don’t know how far she has to carry it; though the big bone we left last night has gone.”

  “Do you think she’ll talk to us this time?” Max asked.

  Before Gus could answer, a terrible din broke out further up the road. Ferocious barking almost drowned out terrified yelping and crying.

  “Quick!” Gus crawled out stiffly from under the truck followed by Max. They both ran towards the noise. Max arrived first. Brutus was holding down a small brown and white dog by the throat, snarling horribly. The small dog had gone limp with terror.

  “Let her go!” shouted Max and leapt on Brutus’s back. He slid back and sank his teeth into Brutus’s back leg. Brutus yelped and twisted round to attack, his eyes narrow slits. Gus jumped at him and seized one side of his muzzle in his mouth. The three dogs were snarling and growling. With a violent wrench, Brutus shook Max and Gus off and raced into the trees, disappearing into darkness.

  A chorus of barking filled the night.

  “What’s happening?” Rover’s voice.

  “That’s Brutus!” Elmer.

  “Not fighting again!” Momma.

  “You’re too old for that stuff!” Lulu.

  “Max, are you OK?” Minnie.

  “We’re OK,” barked Max, “but watch out for Brutus, he’s on the loose – out of control.”

  Gus was licking the small dog gently. She lay inert, showing the whites of her eyes. Her ribs jumped as her heart pounded. The fur on her throat was sticky with slobber.

  “You’re safe with us,” said Max quietly. He looked at her. She was thin and her coat was in poor condition, with an almost-bare patch on one shoulder. She had a nick out of one ear and her front paw was swollen.

  After a few moments she stopped panting and closed her eyes.

  “Take over the licking while I get the bone,” said Gus.

  Max continued with the steady, rasping licking, though she wouldn’t let him touch her paw or throat. Gus returned with the bone. Her nose twitched.

  No cars bothered them – nobody drove to the reserve at night. The small dog opened her eyes and lifted her head. She struggled to sit up, her eyes fixed on the bone. Painfully she dragged herself to her feet and limped over to it.

  “It’s yours,” said Gus.

  She licked it, then nibbled it. She lay down and held it steady with her front paw while she gnawed at it. Max’s tummy rumbled enviously and his mouth filled with saliva.

  “Do you think you can walk?” asked Gus

  She stood shakily, taking her weight on three paws.

  “I know somewhere you can hide not far from here,” he continued. “If you go back to wherever you’ve been, Brutus will find you. The shed at the bottom of the garden,” explained Gus. “The man hasn’t set foot in it for years. I keep it clear of vermin and there are dry corners inside.”

  He picked up the bone and the three dogs set off slowly for home. The small dog limped heavily, her head hanging, tail between her legs.

  “All clear,” said Gus quietly when they’d pushed through the hydrangeas. They crossed the lawn, passing the darkened house on the way to the bottom of the garden. It was a jumble of trees and bushes, full of smells and hidden tracks. What a place for burying bones, thought Max. Gus led them to a wooden shed, which was leaning heavily to one side. It had one small window covered with grime and cobwebs, and honeysuckle grew up the walls. The door was jammed open. They squeezed through and the small dog sank down on a dusty sack.

  “Getting a drink’s the main problem,” said Gus. “We haven’t had much rain lately. My drinking bowl’s on the porch where my owner spends a lot of time during the day, so you’ll have to wait till dark – or he goes out – to get a drink. Of course, I’ll share my food with you.”

  “Me, too,” said Max. “I live next door.”

  “I’m finding it hard to talk,” croaked the dog, “because of what he did to my throat.” She shivered. “I think I can trust you,” she continued. “I want to tell you my story but my throat hurts.”

  “What’s your name?” asked Max.

  The dog sniffed the ground. Finally, she looked up at them miserably. “I haven’t got a name,” she whispered. “They never gave me one. They just called me ‘Hey, you’.”

  No name! Dancing Dalmatians! That’ll just be the beginning of it, thought Gus.

  “I reckon the rest can wait,” he said. “I think you should have a drink from my bowl now, and settle down in here till tomorrow.”

  “We need to fix your paw, too,” said Max.

  They made their way across the lawn. “I’ll be back,” said Max, and trotted off round the house. As he passed the porch, Max sensed a movement out of the corner of his eye, and paused. Within the deep shadow of the porch he thought he could detect a darker shape. He s
niffed and listened. Nothing unfamiliar, he thought, and headed for the hydrangeas.

  As soon as Max disappeared, a figure stepped rapidly and silently off the porch and headed along the path to the road. It turned right and walked slowly along the street – moving in and out of circles of light beneath the street lamps – a figure wrapped in a coat and wearing an old-fashioned hat. The figure walked towards the main road and turned left. No dogs barked – they knew who this was. Some way along the main road it stopped and looked around at the sleeping houses: not a sign of life.

  It pulled something from a pocket and placed it in a letterbox. There was a slight thud as the package dropped inside. The figure went back the way it had come. Behind the hedge, Brutus decided to go back to his kennel. He had seen this before.

  Calling Toby Home

  Harriet had seen Toby several times, but when she told her parents they just gave her a big hug and said nothing. Even when she’d come running home one day and shouted to her mother, “I’ve just seen Toby! Come quickly, he’s walking along the road by the park!” her mother’s eyes had filled with tears and she’d sat down at the kitchen table looking at her hands.

  “You’ve got to hurry!” Harriet said urgently, but her mother didn’t move. When Harriet turned to run out again, her mother pulled her close. Harriet wanted to hit her mother in frustration.

  Toby had been gone for six months. Her father had stayed home from work that morning – he’d gone out to buy a big bunch of flowers. He wants the house to look cheerful in case Toby comes home today, Harriet said to herself. But Toby wasn’t there when she got home from school, so she opened her private drawer under the bed and took out Toby’s football jersey. It had been in the dirty clothes basket when her mother cleaned out his room.