by Lana Axe
“Who installed your implants?” she asked, expecting a name. But that wasn’t the answer she got.
“What implants?” the dog replied.
“The metal coil, the gears,” she said, pointing to each part.
“Is that what they’re called?” the dog asked with a shrug. “My owner put those on me.”
Cali glanced back at Emmit before turning back to the dog. “We’re coming closer. Don’t make any sudden movements.” Cautiously, she approached the dog.
The dog stood and remained still. Large brown eyes stared at the feline before turning to Emmit. The mouse shuddered slightly and stayed close to Cali.
The poor creature was dirty and smelled awful. Cali suspected he had been a stray for some time. She couldn’t see which mechanism was ticking, but neither the gears nor the metal coil appeared to be functioning.
“I don’t know my owner’s name,” the dog finally answered. He lowered his eyes to the ground. “He doesn’t want me anymore.”
Swallowing her opinion, Cali didn’t say what was on her mind. This dog was much better off alone if his owner was the person she suspected.
“Do you have an owner?” the dog asked.
Cali shook her head. “I am a cat. We have no owners, but I do have a home with a very dear friend.”
“That sounds nice,” the dog said. “And what about you?” he asked Emmit.
The sincerity of the dog’s voice helped ease Emmit’s tension. Keeping a safe distance, he answered, “I live on my own, but in the same building as Cali.”
“Are you going to finish that fish?” the dog asked, eyeing Cali’s prized catch. “I’ve tried to take them, but the fishermen yell and throw things.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Cali said, “I suppose I could share a bit.” The dog was skinny and probably hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks. The least she could do was share. She could catch another one for Lionel.
“Thanks!” the dog said, bounding forward to retrieve the fish. He gnawed at its head, savoring the fresh meat. After he finished, he licked his paws and wiped at his muzzle.
At least he has a few manners, Cali thought. “What’s your name?”
The dog shrugged. “My owner called me Dog, and sometimes Specimen.”
Emmit’s mouth dropped. “He used you for a lab rat.” He immediately felt sympathy for the dog, his fears melting away. “That’s no way to treat a living being.” He padded toward the dog and said, “My name’s Emmit, and this is Cali.”
“Pleased to meet you,” the dog said, dipping his head.
“What did your owner look like?” Cali asked. She had to be sure.
“He was tall and slender, with dark eyes, and he always wore a tall black hat,” the dog said. “He yelled a lot.” The dog sniffed, his eyes growing wet. “Two weeks ago, he threw me out on the street. I tried to go back inside, but he threw rocks at me and slammed the door. I waited outside the house a few days, but I didn’t see him again.”
“That’s terrible,” Emmit said, shaking his head.
“He said I was a waste of time and unrepairable, whatever that means. I didn’t work the way he wanted me to.”
“Morcroft,” Cali muttered.
“Yes, I’ve heard that name,” the dog said.
Emmit gasped.
There was no doubting Morcroft’s cruelty. He’d been planning to imitate Cali’s design since viewing her at the exhibition. She’d seen the schematics herself in his workshop. To think he was experimenting on living creatures gave her a chill. Her mind was now made up. She would help this dog and see that he lived a better life. “Lionel will be able to fix you,” she said with certainty. “You’ll come with us.”
Emmit nodded his agreement. “I think that’s a fine idea, Cali.”
The dog pawed at the ground, his tail wagging furiously. “I’d love to!”
“Do you think Lionel will mind?” Emmit asked. He didn’t know the tinker as well as Cali did.
“He’ll be happy to help,” the cat replied. “Lionel has a soft heart.” She turned to the dog. “How does a warm bed and plenty to eat sound?”
“Fantastic!” the dog said. With a wide smile on his face, he stepped forward to lick Cali’s face.
Cali took a step back. “No need for that,” she said.
The dog licked Emmit instead. The little mouse froze momentarily, but then accepted the gesture as a dog’s way of expressing gratitude.
The smell of garbage began to irritate Cali’s nose. “Let’s head back,” she said.
“Just one more thing,” the dog said, darting toward the spilled trash.
Cali eyed the dog suspiciously. What was he up to? She nearly gagged when she found out. As if it were the sweetest smell in the world, the dog buried his nose in the garbage. What came next shocked her even more. The dog turned his head to the side and began rubbing his face in the trash before proceeding to roll in it. Cali looked away in disgust.
The look on Emmit’s face was a mixture of amusement and repulsion. “Do dogs normally do that?” he asked. “I’ve seen rats go for garbage like that, but never a dog.”
Cali shrugged and shook her head. “All I know about dogs is that they’re gross.”
When the dog had finished, he returned to his new friends. “All set,” he said.
Cali led the way, the dog excitedly prancing at her side. Twice he got ahead of her, and she had to remind him not to walk into the street without checking for carriages first. “The horses are too fast to stop if you run in front of them,” she said. Clearly the dog hadn’t been properly educated. She had much to teach him.
As they traveled on, Emmit grew curious. “How did you end up with Morcroft?” No creature would live with that horrible man willingly. He suspected the dog might have a sad story to tell.
“I was born on a farm,” the dog began. “But when I was still little, I was taken away from my family and put in a cage. I stayed there for I don’t know how long before the man in the top hat came to get me.” The dog shrugged. “After that he kept me in a cage, except when he was adding my accessories. When he was finished, he’d put some dry kibble in the cage and leave until the next day.”
“Then you were in his workshop, not his house,” Emmit said.
“No,” the dog replied. “I think it was a house. I escaped the cage once and had a look around. There was a workshop, but there was a lot more than that. I only saw a few rooms before he put me back in the cage.”
Cali filed the information away for later. She didn’t know where Morcroft lived, but that information might prove invaluable. Her decision to share her home with this dog had been a smart one. Protecting Lionel from Morcroft’s scheming might be easier with the dog’s knowledge.
Only two blocks from the apartment, the dog stopped in his tracks, his attention focused on a small city park. He narrowed his eyes, and without warning, bolted toward the park.
Cali huffed and said, “Come on, Emmit.” Racing to catch up with the canine, she sent power to her haunches. “Where are you going?” she shouted.
But the dog didn’t answer. He kept running until finally he stopped at the base of a tree and stared upward, barking with all his might. Kicking at the ground with his hind feet, he sent bits of grass and dirt flying.
“All right, that’s enough,” Cali said, stopping at his side. “What’s going on?”
The dog ceased his barking and turned toward the cat. His head tilted to the side as if he couldn’t believe she needed to ask such a question. “There was a squirrel.”
Emmit burst out laughing. “A squirrel,” he squeaked through his laughter.
Cali placed a paw over her face, trying to hide her annoyed expression. She wasn’t sure how much more dog behavior she could tolerate. Why couldn’t dogs simply act like cats? She sighed, knowing that was impossible. No creature could ever be as wonderful as a cat.
“All right, Dog,” she said. “No more running away from us, and no more garbage. We need to get back to m
y home.” She looked him straight in the eye. “Can you manage to walk two more blocks without getting distracted?”
The dog nodded vigorously.
Though Cali doubted his ability to do so, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Now she fully understood why dogs typically walked on leashes. She didn’t want to employ such methods, but she would if she had to. “Come along then,” she said.
Cali had to redirect the dog’s attention more than once. He was distracted by every carriage that passed. When a human appeared on the sidewalk, the dog stopped walking, sat on his haunches, and raised his front paws.
“What are you doing now?” Cali asked, irritated.
“Begging,” the dog replied. The human paid him no heed and continued on his way. The dog gave a whimper before resuming his march.
After what felt like an eternity, they arrived at the gas-lamp factory. The clanging of Lionel’s tools still rang from the rooftop, so Cali led them to the metal staircase. “Right here,” she said.
The dog hesitated, his eyes wide.
“We have to go to the roof,” she said. “That’s where Lionel is.” She hopped onto the bottom stair to show him it was sturdy.
“It’s safe,” Emmit reassured him.
The dog placed a paw carefully on the step and slowly ascended behind Cali. He froze midway, trembling.
“Don’t look down,” Cali said. Trotting down a few steps, she stood behind the dog. “I’ll catch you if you fall.” The poor creature looked miserable, but he started moving again. “See,” she said, “there’s nothing to it.”
The dog hunkered down on top of the roof, keeping his body as low as possible. The wind rippled through his shaggy fur, his brown eyes looking more mournful than ever.
“It’ll only be a moment,” she said. This would get Lionel off the roof for sure. Motioning for the dog to follow, Cali padded toward the tinker.
“Mrrrooowww,” she cried. It was as deep and throaty as she could manage. The more pitiful the better.
Lionel set down his tool and looked at the calico. “Hungry?” he asked.
She stepped to the side, allowing him to see the dog behind her.
“Where did you come from?” he asked. “Poor thing.” He reached out a hand, allowing the dog to sniff it.
The dog promptly gave it a few licks.
Now that they’d been properly introduced, Lionel patted the dog’s head. “You look terrible, little friend,” he said. “You need something to eat.”
He reached for the dog, cupping him in his hand and tucking him under his arm as if he were a bag of tools. Standing on the roof hatch, he waited for Cali to join them before making his descent. Emmit hopped on behind the tinker, staying out of the human’s sight.
Inside the workshop, Lionel carried the dog to his workbench and set him down. Switching on a lamp, he said, “Let me have a look at you.” He inspected the metal coil and gears, and pressed his ear to the dog’s side to hear the ticking. “This is all wrong,” he said, his tone somber. Sniffing the air, he added, “And you smell terrible. I should probably give you a bath before I start poking at these mishmash gadgets.”
The dog began to tremble.
Lionel laughed. “Don’t like baths, do you, boy?”
“Arf!” the dog replied.
The tinker scratched the dog behind his ear. “Well, they’re a necessary evil. Come on, we’ll get you something to eat first.”
With a lick of Lionel’s face, the dog hopped off the workbench and began to bounce around the tinker’s legs.
“You’ll have to eat cat food,” he said. “It’s all I have.”
Cali narrowed her eyes, annoyed that she hadn’t been invited.
When he reached the door, Lionel looked back over his shoulder. “Come on, Cali.”
Flicking her tail only once, Cali trotted toward him. That’s better, she thought.
“Pomerania,” Emmit said, snapping his fingers. “That’s it.”
“That’s what?” Cali asked, licking the sauce from her paws. Despite having a bellyful of fish, she hadn’t been able to resist the tinned chicken Lionel had given her.
“Pomerania,” the mouse repeated. “That’s where the dog is from.”
“How do you know?” she asked through a mouthful of fur.
“I saw it in a newspaper while I was snacking in an alley.”
Of course, she thought.
“It was an article about a queen who owned thirty dogs like him,” the mouse went on. “I remember it saying something about a place called Pomerania. He’s a royal dog.”
“Well he doesn’t look very royal to me,” she said, unimpressed.
Emmit chuckled. “Maybe after he’s finished with his bath.”
“Now, hold still,” Lionel’s voice sounded from the washroom. “I have to rinse the soap off.” The sound of splashing followed by the scratching of dog claws against the wash basin made it clear the dog wasn’t enjoying the experience.
Cali shuddered. She loved Lionel dearly, but if he ever placed her in water, she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions.
“Maybe you should help him out in there,” Emmit said, flashing a set of white teeth.
“No way am I going near that bathtub,” she replied.
They sat in silence, listening while Lionel grumbled to himself. The words “slippery” and “if you’d just hold still” were repeated several times. Cali wasn’t sure which one of the two to feel sorry for.
Finally, the washroom door creaked open, and Emmit took it as a warning. He darted beneath Lionel’s recliner where he could hear and see everything without being noticed.
Standing in the doorway, the dog shook himself vigorously. Water sprayed all over Lionel, who shielded his glasses with his arm. The dog bounded out the washroom door and ran circles around the sitting room. Stopping twice to roll, he rubbed his ears against the rug. Then he continued to run at top speed, careening through the apartment.
Lionel knelt next to Cali and scratched under her chin. She purred, pressing her face into his hand.
As the dog continued circling and prancing, Lionel said, “Now I remember why I got a cat instead of a dog.” He laughed and shook his head. There was a soft spot in his heart for all animals, but no other living creature could ever replace Cali. Cradling her in his arms, he plopped down on the recliner.
It was several minutes before the dog finally stopped running. He paused at the foot of the recliner, his tongue hanging out in a heavy pant.
“You need a drink,” Lionel said. He pointed toward the kitchen and the dog padded off. The sound of slurping suggested he’d found Cali’s water dish.
Cali didn’t mind. She kept her place on Lionel’s lap until the dog returned.
“Now you need combing,” the tinker said. Retrieving a comb from his shirt pocket, he gently set Cali to one side so he could get up from the chair. Kneeling on the floor, he carefully combed the dog’s fur. “This would be easier if you stopped squirming,” he said, attempting to hold the dog in place with one hand while combing with the other.
The dog wriggled and freed himself, moving only a few steps away. He returned seconds later allowing a few more strokes before repeating his escape.
Sighing, Cali hopped down from the chair and lay flat in front of Lionel. Though he couldn’t understand cat speech, he knew exactly what she wanted and began stroking her fur with the comb.
“See, the kitty likes it,” he said to the dog.
The dog tilted his head to the side and watched. When Cali’s fur was good and soft, the dog padded forward and allowed Lionel to finish combing him.
“There,” Lionel finally said.
Cali was stunned. A small gasp from beneath the recliner suggested Emmit was as well. What had once been a matted wad of gray fur was now reddish-gold and white. Cali stepped forward and groomed a spot behind the dog’s ear. He lowered his head, pleased with the attention.
“You look much better,” she said.
&
nbsp; The dog beamed with pride.
A knock sounded from the rear door, suggesting either Florence had come for a visit, or one of the factory ladies needed the tinker’s assistance.
“It’s me, Lionel.”
“Coming, Flo,” he said as he made his way over and opened the door. “Handle must be stuck again. I meant to fix that.”
“You’ve been busy with your airship,” she said, smiling. “Who is this?” Entering the sitting room, she instantly spotted the dog. “He’s beautiful!” Dropping to her knees she patted her lap, inviting the dog toward her.
The dog obeyed, trotting to her and licking at her face.
“Awww,” she said, scratching behind his ears. “What a sweet dog. Where did you find him?”
“Cali found him,” Lionel said.
“You mean, you didn’t put these implants on him?”
The tinker shook his head. “No, that was Morcroft’s doing.”
Cali’s ears perked up, her suspicions doubly confirmed. Glancing back at the recliner, she saw the shining of two tiny eyes. Emmit had heard the statement as well.
“Morcroft?” Florence said. “Why would he do that?”
“Because he wants to copy Cali’s design,” he replied. “I had a good look at those gears while I was giving the dog a bath. They have Morcroft’s mark all over them.”
“Poor thing,” she said, snuggling the dog to her chest. “Was he mean to you?” She kissed the top of his head.
“They don’t work at all,” Lionel went on.
“The implants?”
“It won’t take long to remove those useless gadgets,” he said.
“Arf,” the dog said, bouncing over to Lionel.
“I think he likes the idea,” she said.
“You want me to remove those gadgets, boy?”
“Arf, arf.” The dog spun in a circle and lowered his front half, leaving his rear high in the air.
“He wants to play,” Florence said. “Does he have a name?”
Lionel shrugged. “Call him whatever you like. You can take him home once he’s all fixed up.”
