The Good Dog

by Avi

McKinley stood tall, wrinkling his nose, curling back his lips, growling.

  “You again,” Pycraft shouted. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  Baring his teeth, McKinley began to bark furiously. “Duchess! Make a bolt for it. I’ll keep him busy.” He advanced on the fat man, snarling.

  “Steal my dog, will you!” Pycraft screamed. He kept looking around for Duchess, who cowered off to one side. The man took a clumsy step in through the entryway, arms held wide, trying to catch her.

  McKinley charged forward. Pycraft, thinking he was under attack, whirled around.

  McKinley backed up.

  “You stupid, meddling dog!” Pycraft spat, turning on him. “I’ll teach you . . .”

  “Now’s your chance, Duchess!” McKinley barked. “Run for it!”

  As Pycraft lunged, McKinley sidestepped and Duchess raced for the entryway.

  The man staggered, saw the greyhound heading out, turned, and made a grab at her. He was too late. Duchess shot out of the yard.

  McKinley, knowing it was now his time to escape, dashed forward. Pycraft spun around. Half lunging, half falling, he slammed the entryway closing shut, then latched it.

  He roared at McKinley, “Let my dog go, will you?” He searched the yard and snatched up one of Duchess’s play sticks. Then he moved toward McKinley, waving it in the air.

  Heart pounding, McKinley snarled and snapped furiously, but backed away, wanting to stay out of reach.

  As Pycraft advanced step by step, McKinley kept retreating.

  The man hurled the stick.

  It whipped passed McKinley’s nose—almost hitting him. Recoiling sharply, he tripped over his own legs. It was then that Pycraft lunged again, using both hands to shove him into the doghouse.

  McKinley felt swallowed up by darkness. Panicked, he twisted about, only to have the door of the doghouse slam shut in his face.

  He was caught.

  22

  McKinley butted his head against the door. It would not budge. He scratched at it, first with one paw, then the other. It refused to give. He threw his full weight against the door. It buckled but remained firmly closed.

  Furious at his predicament, McKinley howled. The sound echoed so loudly, it hurt his ears. And there was no answering call.

  Shivering from fear, he smashed at the door again. Nothing gave.

  Panting with exhaustion, he flopped down, rear legs tucked tightly in, front legs squashed, head bent, all at uncomfortable angles. The doghouse was much too small for him.

  For a while the night was silent except for his breathing and the steady hiss of falling snow. Thinking he heard a rattle, he lifted his head, cocked his ears, and listened.

  “McKinley!” came a distant bark.

  “Aspen? Is that you?”

  “I’m outside, at this stupid fence. But I can’t get in. Where are you?”

  “I’m trapped here,” McKinley yowled. “In the doghouse.”

  “I’ll try to get help.”

  “Aspen!”

  Too late. There was no answer.

  McKinley whined plaintively. If Pycraft chose to leave in the morning, there was nothing McKinley could do to stop the hunt. Or get free. At least Duchess got away, he thought. Maybe she would warn Lupin, tell her how he’d been caught.

  Then McKinley remembered. He had never told the greyhound where Lupin was hiding. Besides, the snow would have covered their tracks. And, because they had come along the creek out of the hills, there would be no scent to follow. Just as he had wanted—but now, everything was all wrong.

  I must be patient, McKinley thought even as he groaned with impatience. It occurred to him that if the snow kept up all night, the hunt for the wolf might be called off. But, no, people in town were used to snow. They would still go after Lupin.

  Maybe the wolf was right: Better if the dogs ran off to the wilderness.

  Trapped in his discomfort, McKinley thought of the pup’s sleeping place. How wonderfully soft it was. And there was warmth and a feeling of safety in that house, too. He sighed. He wished he was there now. Did that mean he was—as Lupin claimed—a slave to humans? Or was living with them a better life?

  McKinley closed his eyes. Growling and whimpering, he fell into a troubled sleep. He dreamed he was out in the open, that he was being chased. Sometimes it was Jack who was chasing him. Then Lupin. Then Redburn. Once it was himself. Each time when he looked back, his pursuer seemed to change.

  As he dreamed, his legs churned, he barked, he growled, but he did not waken.

  • • •

  “McKinley?”

  McKinley lifted his head. Faint light outlined the doghouse doorway. It must be dawn. He listened.

  “McKinley? Are you in there?” It was a human’s voice. Jack’s voice.

  McKinley barked. A low woof answered him. Aspen was there, too.

  The door to the doghouse swung open. The pup’s face appeared.

  “McKinley!” Jack called. “What are you doing in there, boy? Come on out here!”

  Wagging his tail so hard, it banged against the side of the doghouse, McKinley scrambled into a yard deep enough in snow to reach his belly. And it was still coming down.

  The boy was dressed in thick clothing, hat, gloves, and boots. By his side stood Aspen, her face powdered with snow. She was growling with pleasure, tail wagging wildly.

  McKinley leaped up on the pup, barking with joy. The boy pushed him away. “I’m really furious at you, McKinley. You wrecked my backpack. Now I can’t go after the wolf. You’re really a bad dog.”

  McKinley, hearing the words backpack and bad spoken so sharply, hung his head.

  “And how did you get in this doghouse?” the boy demanded. “Did Mr. Pycraft put you in there? Did he? What’s happening?”

  McKinley barked.

  Aspen chimed in with a bark of her own.

  McKinley turned to her. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “I saw the whole thing.”

  “You did? Did they start out for Lupin?”

  “I think so. Pycraft isn’t here. But it’s still early.”

  “Come on, McKinley,” the boy insisted. “You can’t play with Aspen. We have to get home. I bet you forget you’re supposed to be grounded today. And what are you going to do about my backpack?” He reached for McKinley’s collar.

  McKinley jumped back and looked up at the boy, wishing he could tell him why he’d chewed the backpack and what he still had to do. But he knew Jack wouldn’t understand. Instead, wagging his tail, and with quick, short bursts, he bounded through the snow and out of the yard, Aspen by his side.

  “McKinley,” Jack cried. “Come back! Where you going, you bad dog?”

  McKinley paused briefly to look over his shoulder. The pup was high-stepping through the snow, trying to keep up.

  Aspen nudged her friend’s shoulder. “The boy can wait. We need to get to Lupin.”

  “I hate you, McKinley!” Jack shouted tearfully. “I’m sorry I saved you. Don’t ever come back! Do you hear me? Don’t ever come back!”

  McKinley, hearing Don’t come back and I hate you, felt a stab of pain. But he pushed on, no longer looking to see if the boy was following or not.

  23

  The snowdrifts made running impossible. McKinley, with Aspen just behind, had to leap to move forward. The falling snow made it hard to see, too. Only when they reached the main ways, where early morning snowplows had already passed, was it possible to move quickly.

  As they hurried along, McKinley turned to Aspen. “How did you get the pup to come for me?”

  “McKinley, do you have any idea how you worry me?” she panted.

  “Worry? You? Why?”

  “You’re always trying to take care of everything. The dogs in town. In Strawberry Park. Your humans. Duchess. Now Lupin. You make me edgy. Last night when I heard you go out, I followed.”

  McKinley glanced at his friend with real surprise. “I had no idea.”

  Aspen wa
gged her tail and gave a yip of amusement. “I saw you go to Redburn’s house first. Then Duchess’s. I watched everything that happened. I thought of jumping in, but it all happened so fast, I couldn’t. Then I had to wait until Pycraft went back into his house. When he did, I tried to get the entryway open. But he had fixed it so I couldn’t. That’s when I barked to you. Even though you answered there was nothing I could do. I went to get Jack.”

  “How’d you do that?”

  “For someone who takes care of so many things, you don’t always notice what’s around you. Do you know how often I’ve seen you open your house door? Enough to know how to do it. But I didn’t think it would be too smart if I went in during the night. Might scare them.

  “So as soon as there was a little daylight I crept inside. Your male and female were still asleep, but it was easy enough to sniff out Jack’s room. He was awake. And angry, McKinley. I think he was surprised it was me—not you. Don’t you ever wish people were smarter? I do. It took a while, but he finally got the idea I needed him to follow me. Hey, why did you chew up his backpack?”

  “He was going to run off with Lupin this morning. The man and woman had no idea. I couldn’t figure any other way to stop the pup. I hated to leave him just now. He was really unhappy.”

  “You did the right thing,” Aspen barked. “No saying what’s going to happen. You got a plan?”

  “I better check Redburn’s house first. Maybe his human saw the snow and decided not to go.”

  “They’ll go. From what I’m hearing, the humans are terribly upset about Lupin. You go ahead. I’ll run back home. There’s some food I can get for her. Meet you at the little house.”

  McKinley barked, “Great!”

  “Fast as I can.”

  “Aspen!”

  She paused and looked around.

  “You’re the best friend a dog ever had.”

  She wagged her tail, then raced away.

  • • •

  A few lights were on in Redburn’s house. Though McKinley lifted his head and barked loudly, there was no response.

  But even while he looked the lights in the house went off and the front door opened. The female Sullivan emerged and stepped into the snow. She moved toward the garage, her hand outstretched. The door began to move up. As she waited for it she saw McKinley. “McKinley!” she shouted crossly. “Get away from here!”

  As soon as the garage door opened, McKinley saw that there was only one car inside. Wheeling about, he galloped down the way toward Strawberry Park.

  As he ran he pondered: If the hunting party had already begun searching—and he was now sure it had—the best thing would be to keep Lupin in the cabin by the creek. With luck, Redburn would lead the hunters to the boulders where the wolf had been last seen. That would make sense. But Lupin couldn’t be tracked from there. They would have to give up.

  But what if somehow Redburn did track her to the little house? McKinley was sure the people would not go inside. Humans didn’t like to share their houses with other humans, something McKinley had never understood. So everything depended upon keeping Lupin inside the cabin.

  When he reached Fox Haven Way, he was happy to see it had not been plowed. And snow was still coming down. But there were new car tracks. It looked as if the people had just recently pushed through.

  McKinley nosed the ruts. He could distinguish four vehicles. They had come one after the other, as if traveling in a pack. One, he was pretty sure, was Sullivan’s. It was an easy track to follow.

  Halfway up the way, McKinley stopped to sniff again. As he did, he heard the sound of a car behind him. He turned and stared back along the way.

  A car was moving slowly toward him. Some other hunter? As it drew closer, however, McKinley saw that on the top of car were some snow-sliding sticks.

  He barked with dismay. The snow! Sliding time had arrived. Lots of humans would be coming. This car must carry the ones who used the little house. But when they opened their door, they would discover Lupin.

  McKinley felt a brief moment of panic. Then—without dunking of the danger—he raced down the middle of the way toward the car, barking furiously.

  He could see the man at the wheel peering out at him. But the car did not stop.

  McKinley, continuing to bark, held his ground.

  The man tried to swing around him. The car skidded. As the man wrenched his wheel, the rear of the car shifted sideways, finally dropping into the ditch at the edge of the way.

  McKinley kept barking.

  The car spun its back wheels—and sank even deeper into the ditch.

  The man opened the door. “You dumb dog!” he yelled at McKinley. “Why don’t you get off the way! You think you own it?”

  Two other car doors opened. Two pups emerged.

  “Are we stuck, Dad?” one of them asked.

  “Darned right we’re stuck” the man said angrily. “Stupid dog. Has no brains. You guys get behind the car and push. I’ll see if I can get us moving. Otherwise we’ll have to walk to the cabin.”

  McKinley did not wait a moment more. With a bound he raced up the way.

  When he reached the little house he found two cars and two trucks sitting in front of it. No people were around. Instead, footprints led directly into the field. McKinley lowered his head and sniffed. Redburn was with them.

  Then McKinley checked to see if anyone had approached the cabin door. No prints. So far, so good.

  He dashed around to the back of the house. On the snowy wood surface he crouched, then sprang at the still-open window, clearing it cleanly and landing inside.

  The wolf was nowhere in sight.

  “Lupin!” he barked. “Are you here?”

  A low growl came from the far room.

  McKinley ran to it. Lupin was stretched out on the sleeping place, her head resting on a soft lump. When McKinley came in, she looked up and around.

  “Are you all right?” McKinley barked.

  “Pretty well. A little stiff. There’s been a lot of commotion around here. I smelled people. A dog. I tried to get out, but both door things were closed. Then things quieted down. What’s happening?”

  “Lots,” McKinley growled. “Lupin, you can’t stay anymore. The humans who live here are right down the way. They’ll be arriving soon. And what you heard and smelled before was a hunting party. They’re searching for you up in the hills.”

  Moving stiffly, Lupin crawled off the sleeping place.

  “Follow me,” McKinley barked. “See this here? Soon as I open it, go. Stick close to me. How fast can you move?”

  “Where are we heading?”

  “Ready or not, you’re going to have to start back to the wilderness. We’ll take the stream again.”

  “Where’s Aspen?” Lupin whined. “Where’s Duchess?”

  “Aspen’s on her way. I freed Duchess, but I have no idea where she is. Hiding, I hope. Lupin, we really have to go.”

  Lupin refused to move. “I only spoke to a few Steamboat dogs.”

  “Lupin,” McKinley barked, “you spoke to me. I’m head dog here. I promise! I’ll give the rest of them your message.”

  Lupin looked at him. “A real promise?”

  “Can’t you trust me by now?” McKinley snapped.

  Lupin gazed at him with her bright eyes. “I have no choice, do I?”

  “No, you don’t. And if you want to stay alive, you better hurry.”

  McKinley turned to the rear door. He had hardly got the knob in his mouth when the front door burst open. There stood the three humans who had been in the car.

  24

  The people gawked at McKinley and Lupin.

  “Dad!” one of the pups cried out. “It’s wolves!”

  “Lupin! Follow me!” McKinley barked as he dove for the front door between the people’s legs and the snow-sliding sticks they carried. He got by easily and headed straight for the creek. But when, in the next moment, he realized that Lupin had not followed him, he wheeled about.

>   Too frightened to move forward, a snarling Lupin was still inside the house.

  The humans backed away from the door.

  “Lupin!” McKinley yelped. “Get out of there! Hurry!”

  Growling nervously, the wolf plunged out the door, but in her confusion she turned in the opposite direction, away from McKinley.

  He rushed back, leaped at the wolf, and nipped her neck. Feeling attacked, Lupin twisted around, growling angrily.

  “Lupin,” McKinley snapped. “This way!” Once more he headed for the creek.

  The people held out their snow-sliding sticks to defend themselves.

  Tail bristling, Lupin bared her teeth and began to snap at them.

  “Ignore them!” McKinley yelped, trying to distract the humans.

  The pups turned on him, swinging their snow sliders wildly. Though aware that the man was closing in on Lupin, McKinley, fearful for himself, fell back.

  Suddenly, a brown blur arched through the falling snow. It was Aspen, with a package in her mouth. She leaped at the man, pushing him away.

  “Lupin! Come on!” McKinley barked.

  The wolf, limping badly, lumbered toward McKinley.

  With a growl of success, Aspen joined them and the three splashed down into the creek. There were a few more shouts from the humans, but the sound quickly faded.

  “We really have to hurry,” McKinley barked, pausing only to look around and make sure that Aspen and Lupin were still behind him.

  Head bowed, panting, Lupin struggled to keep up. Aspen, the package still in her mouth, stayed close to her.

  After leading them upstream some distance, McKinley halted. The snow was coming down harder, making it difficult to see or to gather in smells.

  He knew that if they followed the creek they would get back into the woods and hills. That was where Lupin needed to go. But that was the way the hunters had headed. If he led her the opposite direction, across Strawberry Park, they would be free of the hunters, except going south—into town. What’s more, crossing the open valley meant passing any number of human dwellings. No telling what dangers they might run into.

  While McKinley thought about what to do, Aspen presented Lupin with her package. The wolf sniffed at it, took it into her mouth, and tried to bite through the wrapping. With a growl she spat it out into the water. “What is that?”