Animal Factory

by Philip Caveney

  Ralph noticed how Kurt’s brothers and sisters began to take his advice about things and it soon got to the point that when one of them had a problem of some sort, it was Kurt who they went looking for.

  Ralph couldn’t help but be impressed by all this and as the long winter days passed and stretched into spring, he found himself looking for excuses to spend time with Kurt. Although he was not as magnificent a specimen as his brothers and sisters, he had a way about him that was very impressive. He never seemed to be in doubt about anything. He made decisions quickly and had a way of speaking that had the listener hanging on to his every word. To Ralph, Kurt became something of a personal hero. Ralph would have loved to be as quick-witted as Kurt. He would have liked to be able to talk at length about anything and everything. Whenever he had a little spare time on his paws, he would seek out Kurt and the other Dobermans and would trot happily along behind them, even joining in some of their activities when they were not being too naughty. And for some time the Dobermans tolerated this.

  But one day, when Ralph was following the pack around the farm, Kurt stopped and turned back to look at Ralph.

  ‘Why are you always following us around?’ he demanded.

  Ralph was shocked by this question. He thought it was a little unkind, considering all the time he had spent looking after them when they were puppies.

  ‘I just . . . like being with you,’ he said.

  Fritz turned back now and stood alongside Kurt. ‘And why would that be?’ he asked. ‘After all, you’re not one of us, are you?’

  Ralph stared at Fritz. ‘Of course I am,’ he said. ‘I’m a dog, aren’t I?’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Eva. ‘But you’re not a Doberman.’

  Ralph thought about this for a moment. ‘Is there a difference?’ he asked.

  Kurt sighed as though having to point out something really obvious.

  ‘Look around you,’ he said. ‘Look at all the other animals on the farm. Do you see, Ralph, how the pigs are friendly with other pigs? And how the sheep are friendly with other sheep? I mean, you don’t get pigs and sheep sharing a sty, do you? You don’t find pigs wandering over the hills bleating like idiots. And of course, it goes without saying that the chickens all keep together.’

  ‘Yes, but . . . that’s different,’ insisted Ralph. ‘Pigs and sheep are different animals entirely. But . . . we are all dogs. . . aren’t we?’

  ‘You are a dog,’ Kurt corrected him. ‘We are Dobermans. We are the chosen ones. And it is not your place to trail along with the likes of us. Now, kindly push off and stop bothering us.’

  And with that he turned away and he and the other Dobermans continued walking. Ralph hesitated for a few moments then decided that Kurt must have been joking, so he started after them again. When Kurt glanced back and saw that Ralph was still there, he seemed to grow angry. He stopped in his tracks and turned to face Ralph, shouting to his brothers and sisters to join him. The pack followed his example and they all stood there glaring aggressively at Ralph.

  ‘Are you deaf?’ Kurt asked him.

  Ralph forced a laugh. ‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘But you can’t really mean what you just said.’

  ‘Oh, I can assure you I did,’ said Kurt. ‘Now, I’m giving you a warning, Ralph. Go away. I shall not warn you again.’

  Ralph could hardly believe what was happening. ‘How could you say such things to me?’ he asked. ‘Have I not looked after you faithfully for much of your lives, just as I promised Farmer Morton I would?’

  Kurt grunted. ‘You have been a good servant. I will not deny that.’

  ‘A servant?’ Ralph stared at him. ‘Is that how you think of me?’

  ‘Of course.’ Kurt looked at him without one trace of compassion. ‘You have to understand something, Ralph. Some creatures are special. Some creatures are born to be leaders, while others are merely born to serve. Some creatures are of pure blood while others are merely. . . mongrels. Now, I’m telling you for the last time, turn around and go away. Stop trying to put your nose where it doesn’t belong. If you do not obey me, I shall set my brothers and sisters on you.’

  This was so unexpected that Ralph couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I do not think they would ever do such a thing,’ he said. ‘They know I am their friend.’

  ‘Let’s see, shall we?’ muttered Kurt. He gave a tiny nod of his head.

  The other Dobermans reacted as though they had been given a signal. Instantly they ran at Ralph, their teeth bared, their hairs bristling. For a moment Ralph was shocked rigid. Then instinct took over and he turned tail and ran, but not before Fritz had come alongside him and buried his teeth deep in his shoulder. Ralph yelped in pain, and once again the image of Fred’s frightening dream flashed through his mind – but this time the black shapes that crowded around him were something much more deadly than ravens.

  With a desperate effort he managed to wrench himself away from Fritz’s clutches. He swerved hard to his right, ducked under a low fence and ran for the safety of the barn. The Dobermans were too big to squeeze under the fence and had to go around it and by then, Ralph was heading through the open barn doors. He threw himself into a dark corner and burrowed his way under a pile of hay until he was completely covered. He lay there trembling, expecting at any moment to hear the sound of the Dobermans’ big paws as they raced into the barn, intent on attacking him, but thankfully, it didn’t happen.

  When he had finally summoned the courage to creep out of his hiding place and peer fearfully out into the farmyard, the Dobermans had gone.

  Chapter Nine

  Outcast

  After that, Ralph did his best to keep a distance between himself and the Dobermans. Sometimes, of course, it was inevitable that their paths would cross and when they did, Ralph became aware that they were sometimes whispering about him. On more than one occasion he heard himself referred to as ‘The Mongrel.’ Another time, when he was lying up in the barn, having a rest, he overheard Kurt talking to Manfred.

  ‘We’ve got to do something about that mongrel,’ he heard Kurt say and a jolt of shock went through him, although he quickly realised that Kurt wasn’t referring to him, but to poor old Fred. ‘He lies there in that stinking kennel all day, doing nothing to earn his place on the farm.’

  ‘He is getting rather old,’ muttered Manfred, who was not the brightest member of the brood.

  ‘That’s not the point,’ said Kurt. ‘Ralph at least goes out with the sheep and makes himself useful. That smelly old creature does nothing and yet, he still eats his weight in food every day.’ There was some truth in this. Fred’s rheumatism had lately become so bad that he could barely drag himself up the hillside, so Farmer Morton had announced that from now on only he and Ralph need go up there. Fred had protested, but he must have known that he could not fulfil his duties as he used to and in the end, had accepted that his services were no longer needed.

  ‘What do you suppose we should do about it?’ asked Manfred.

  ‘I think I might have a word with Farmer Morton,’ said Kurt. ‘It has occurred to me that I may offer to go out onto the high pastures myself.’

  ‘You?’ cried Manfred. ‘A Doberman, doing the work of a common mongrel?’

  ‘Ah, but I have something else in mind,’ said Kurt. ‘It would give me an opportunity to talk to the sheep.’

  ‘Why would you want to do that?’ asked Manfred.

  ‘Because I need to have them on my side,’ said Kurt, mysteriously.

  Ralph waited until the two Dobermans had left the barn and then hurried off to speak to Fred. He found the poor old dog curled up in his kennel, very reluctant to come out into what was a cold and blustery day. It was only after some pleading on Ralph’s part that Fred finally poked his head out into the daylight.

  ‘What do you want?’ he asked.

  ‘A word in your ear,’ said Ralph. ‘Did you know that Kurt doesn’t like you very much?’

  ‘Huh! What else is new?’ muttered Fred. ‘Kurt doesn’t seem t
o have time for anyone except his brothers and sisters.’

  ‘Yes, but you need to be careful,’ said Ralph. ‘Kurt spends time with Farmer Morton and has a lot of influence over him.’

  ‘I can’t imagine what you’re worried about,’ said Fred. ‘I’m no trouble to anyone these days. I can barely drag myself out of this kennel.’

  ‘That’s just the problem! It might be a good idea if you could make yourself a bit useful around the place.’

  Fred looked at him in disgust. ‘Oh yes, good idea. Why don’t you tie a brush to my tail and I’ll paint the blooming barn!’

  ‘That’s not what I’m saying,’ protested Ralph. ‘It’s just that Kurt has this idea that all animals have to earn their place on the farm.’

  Fred grunted. ‘The last time I checked, Farmer Morton was still in charge here,’ he said. ‘And he won’t forget all the years of faithful service I’ve given him. Now shove off and let me get back to my dream.’

  He turned and crept painfully back into his kennel and ignored all of Ralph’s entreaties to come out again.

  Ralph went away fearing the worst, particularly when, a few days later, he saw Farmer Morton standing in the barn, talking to Kurt; or rather, listening to him. Kurt was yapping away and Farmer Morton had a very serious expression on his face. Ralph thought about going over and pitching in with his own thoughts, but he knew that it would be useless. Kurt would win any argument that Ralph might try – so he slunk away but couldn’t shake a bad feeling that had settled over him.

  A couple of evenings later Ralph was crossing the farmyard when he saw Farmer Morton come out of the house carrying his big, double-barrelled shotgun. He had his heavy overcoat on, buttoned to the neck to keep out the cold and as Ralph watched fearfully, he trudged across to Fred’s kennel and called to him. After a few moments, Fred popped his head out, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

  ‘Hello, Fred,’ said Farmer Morton.

  ‘Hello, boss,’ said Fred warily. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I thought we might take a little walk together, see if there are any rabbits out on the hillside. Mrs Morton has a hankering for a slice of rabbit pie.’

  Fred looked at Farmer Morton and then at the shotgun, and a look of sad acceptance swept over his grizzled features.

  ‘Why not?’ he said, with no trace of emotion on his face. He pulled himself out from the kennel and got himself upright with a grunt of pain. ‘Been a while since we’ve been up the hillside together.’

  Ralph couldn’t just stand there. He ran over, wagging his tail. ‘Let me come with you!’ he announced brightly. ‘I’m just in the mood for chasing rabbits.’ But Farmer Morton looked down at him and shook his head.

  ‘There’s no need, Ralph,’ he said. ‘You stay here and have a rest. You’ve worked hard today.’

  ‘I don’t mind, honestly,’ insisted Ralph. ‘I’m not tired at all.’

  But Farmer Morton fixed him with a look. ‘Stay,’ he said, and Ralph knew he could not disobey such a command.

  Fred looked at him. ‘I’ll catch you later,’ he said quietly, but his expression was one of defeat, as though he didn’t really believe that he would see Ralph again.

  He and Farmer Morton turned and headed for the gate. Ralph stood there, watching as the two of them dwindled into distance. He could feel a terrible heat in his chest and his eyes began to fill with moisture. He stayed where he was, listening intently. Darkness fell and still he stood there, rooted to the spot.

  And then he heard it; the single boom of a shotgun reverberating around the distant hills. And he knew he would never see Fred again, at least not in this world.

  Sadly, he turned and slunk towards the farmhouse door, and he scratched and whined until Agnes came to let him in. He ignored his food bowl and went straight to his bed beside the stove. He lay there wide awake until late into the night when Agnes had gone to bed and finally he heard the sound of Farmer Morton’s lonely footsteps crunching up the gravel path to the door. After a few moments the door opened and Farmer Morton came in. He put his shotgun back on the wooden rack above the fireplace. He took off his heavy coat and draped it over a chair and then saw Ralph lying awake, looking at him, and he walked over, reached down and patted him gently on the head.

  ‘No rabbits out there tonight,’ he said and sighed deeply. He crossed the room to the staircase and went upstairs. Ralph lay there listening to the creaking of footsteps on the old floorboards above him as Farmer Morton moved around, getting himself ready for bed. He talked to Agnes in hushed tones and then there was the creak of the mattress as he climbed into bed. After a little while there was silence, save for out in the darkness, the sighing of the wind in the trees. Still Ralph could not sleep and he was thinking about Fred’s kennel, out there in the darkness of the yard and how empty it must feel.

  Chapter Ten

  Now We Are Three

  The next morning when Ralph followed Farmer Morton out of the house to accompany him up to the high meadow, he was surprised to find Kurt sitting in the yard waiting for them. Farmer Morton looked at Ralph almost apologetically.

  ‘I forgot to mention,’ he said. ‘Kurt will be coming out with us today. He tells me he wants to learn how to work the sheep.’

  Ralph looked at Kurt for a moment but said nothing. The two dogs fell into step and followed Farmer Morton, some distance behind him. They passed Fred’s empty kennel.

  ‘What a pity about poor old Fred,’ said Kurt.

  Again, Ralph didn’t reply, because he thought if he did, it would be to shout and howl at Kurt and tell him how despicable he was.

  ‘Still, I’m sure it’s for the best. When a creature is of no further use, what’s the point of dragging it out? He’s better off where he is now.’

  Ralph could hold his tongue no longer. ‘And I suppose you’ll tell me you had nothing to do with what happened to him?’ he growled. ‘That you didn’t talk to Farmer Morton and tell him he might as well take Fred out and shoot him?’

  Kurt snorted. ‘I may have made a suggestion,’ he said. ‘I see it as part of my duty to help Farmer Morton to get the best out of the farm . . . and you must admit, Fred had not been pulling his weight around here for quite some time.’

  ‘I don’t see you Dobermans doing very much to earn your keep,’ said Ralph.

  ‘Oh, well that’s different, isn’t it? After all, we are not working dogs. We are thoroughbreds. We were meant for higher things. And besides, am I not coming with you right now to help you out? A rather noble gesture on my part, I think.’

  Ralph barked a short laugh. I must say I’m surprised that you’re willing to be seen with me,’ he growled. ‘After all, you are pure blood and I am nothing but a common mongrel.’

  Kurt laughed at this. ‘Oh, don’t be so bitter, Ralph, it doesn’t suit you! Of course I’ve no problem working alongside you. We are comrades after all. Just as long as you don’t try to intrude on my leisure time. I have nothing but the greatest respect for the work you do here and I am sure I couldn’t hope to find a better tutor.’

  ‘If I’m any good it’s because I learned from the best,’ said Ralph. ‘It was Fred that taught me everything I know.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure he was very accomplished in his day,’ admitted Kurt. ‘But that day had come and gone. All animals must accept that when they are of no further use to their masters, then it is time to make a change.’ And with that he ran forward and began jumping up playfully at Farmer Morton, acting like an over-eager puppy and earning himself a pat for his troubles. Ralph felt disgusted. He knew that this was just done for show, an attempt to ingratiate himself still further with Farmer Morton. Annoyingly, it seemed to be working.

  When they got up to the sheepfold, Farmer Morton opened the gate and Ralph went through his familiar routine of herding the sheep up to the high pasture, but Kurt showed very little interest in the proceedings and seemed merely to be observing everything.

  ‘I’m not getting much help from Kurt,’ observed R
alph at one point, but Farmer Morton just smiled fondly.

  ‘He’s not really cut out for this kind of thing,’ he admitted. ‘But he was keen to have a go and why not let him give it a try? I expect he’ll get bored soon enough and go off to look for his brothers and sisters.’

  ‘Why is it that the Dobermans are not expected to earn their keep here?’ asked Ralph.

  Farmer Morton smiled. ‘It’s not what they do,’ he said. ‘You have to understand about thoroughbred dogs. They were made to look magnificent. Nothing more than that.’

  ‘And what about Fred?’ asked Ralph. ‘Was he not magnificent in his day?’

  ‘It’s not the same thing,’ said Farmer Morton. ‘Fred was a fine working dog, but he wouldn’t have won any prizes at a dog show. And when a working dog can’t work any more . . . well, it’s sad but there’s only one thing to do.’

  ‘So is that what I have to look forward to?’ asked Ralph bitterly. ‘When you come out to me one night and ask if I want to go out after rabbits?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Farmer Morton. ‘You’re just a young ‘un. You’ll probably outlast me. Now, run along and do your duty.’

  Ralph did as he was told, but after a short while he noticed that Kurt was missing. Ralph supposed that he had gone back to the farm until, as he was following a stray sheep around a crag, he heard a familiar voice.

  ‘Of course, every animal on the farm has its own worth. That is the nature of our brotherhood. Each creature provides something. Apart from the chickens, of course.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ asked a bleating voice which Ralph recognised as that of Sally, the sheep that was thought to be the most intelligent of the herd. ‘The chickens are all right, aren’t they?’