Waggit Again

by Peter Howe

  “There, that should do it,” he announced. “It’s not perfect, but it’s tall enough for us to jump the rest.”

  “You can’t be serious,” said Lug. “Look at this body and tell me that it’s able to jump the rest. In fact, look at this body and tell me that pile of junk’s not going to collapse the minute I put my weight on it.”

  Waggit looked at Lug’s chunky frame and realized that he was right.

  “Okay then, here’s what we do,” he quickly decided. “I’ll use it to get out of here and then I’ll find Felicia. She can’t be far away, and she can come and get you out.”

  “And if you don’t find her?” asked Lug nervously.

  “I’ll find her, don’t worry,” Waggit assured him.

  “I am worried,” said Lug. “You got me into this mess, and now you’re just going to leave me?”

  Waggit realized that the conversation was going nowhere and was taking up precious time. Now action was called for, and so he jumped onto the platform, and leapt to the top of the Dumpster with all his might. As Lug had predicted, the force of his leap caused the flimsy construction to give way, but it had given him the extra height he needed for his paws to grip the edge of the Dumpster wall. He hung on until he summoned up all his strength and pulled himself over the side, tumbling to the pavement below.

  Once he was at street level he tried to get some indication as to the direction he should take. He turned his head this way and that, but there was no tingling of the nose, no communication from Felicia popping into his brain, and so he headed back the way that the two dogs had come the night before. His leash trailed behind him. He picked it up in his mouth, not just because it made running easier, but because he had seen pet dogs in the park do the same, and now was the time to look like he had an owner.

  The problem was there were so many streets. He tried to cover the area as he would when hunting, but what worked in open woodland was useless in suburbia. He was beginning to panic, his chest tightening with fear, when he got the break he needed.

  “Waggit, where are you? Lug, are you there?”

  It was Felicia’s voice in his head, so clear that she must be close to him.

  “Felicia, I’m here. Where are you?”

  “Waggit, where’s ‘here’?”

  He looked around.

  “I don’t know, but it must be near you.”

  And then he turned a corner and literally bumped into her.

  “Where have you been?” she asked.

  “We got stuck in a Dumpster,” he replied. “Lug’s still in there. We have to get him out before the men come back.”

  Without bothering to explain how they ended up in the Dumpster in the first place or which men were coming back, Waggit raced off with Felicia following close behind him. The problem was that he had turned down so many streets, and they all looked so similar, that he took many wrong turns before getting back to the one where Lug was trapped. His joy at finally finding the right one was shattered by the sight of an Animal Control vehicle coming up the hill, heading for the Dumpster. Although Waggit had never seen this particular truck before it was similar to the one that had taken him to the pound. He froze in fear and then shook himself back into action.

  “Quick,” he said to Felicia. “I have to look like a stray. Take my leash off.”

  She did as she was asked unquestioningly.

  “Okay,” said Waggit, “the Dumpster is straight up this road on the right. Go and rescue Lug and then keep going. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can.”

  “Be careful,” she urged him. “Don’t take too many risks.”

  How many was too many was hard to say, because if his next move went wrong the number might be one. He ran toward the truck, hidden from its occupants’ view by the parked cars that lined the street. He took cover between two of them and waited. Timing it carefully he darted out into the street just as the vehicle was upon him. The driver slammed on the brakes, causing the tires to squeal and smoke. Waggit closed his eyes and prayed that it would stop before it hit him. It finally came to a complete halt just inches from his body.

  The doors flew open and a man and a woman jumped out, yelling at him. He knew then that his plan had worked. He raced across the road, narrowly avoiding a car coming in the opposite direction, with the two Animal Control officers chasing him. It was no contest. He allowed them to think that they were catching up to him for several blocks, and then he accelerated to full speed, quickly leaving them behind.

  When he was sure that he had outdistanced his pursuers he slowed to a trot and caught his breath. He had bought more than enough time for Felicia to find and rescue Lug, and now the only thing left to do was for the three of them to be reunited. This proved to be easier than before, and he quickly made contact with her. She had found Lug, who was now trotting happily by her side, and the two of them were just a short distance from where Waggit was panting. When they finally caught up with one another Felicia knelt down and hugged Waggit, while Lug licked him all over his face. Since Lug’s breath wasn’t the sweetest Waggit had ever smelled this wasn’t all that pleasant, but he appreciated the thought behind it.

  “That was a very brave and silly thing to do,” Felicia said to Waggit. “You could have been killed.”

  “Yes,” agreed Waggit, “that thought occurred to me as well, but I’m still here.”

  “It was also very smart,” Felicia said with a smile.

  “Thanks, Waggit,” said Lug. “You saved my life.”

  “S’okay,” muttered Waggit. “Like you said, I was the one that got you into the mess in the first place.”

  “One thing I don’t understand though. Why did you run when the policeman was questioning me?” asked Felicia.

  “He was a Ruzela,” replied Waggit. “And he might have captured us and sent us to the Great Unknown. I was scared and I panicked.”

  “So he panicked”—Felicia turned to Lug—“and you followed.”

  “Don’t blame me,” whined Lug, whose gratitude seemed to be short-lived. “I thought he knew what he was doing. He’s always Mr. Take Charge.”

  “Yeah, is that so?” said Waggit, forgetting the relief he felt at Lug’s rescue. “Let me tell you, I only take charge when you’re so frightened you can’t move, Mr. Scaredy-Pants.”

  “Boys! Boys!” Felicia intervened. “Let’s not argue. What we have to do now is get out of here as quickly as possible. You’re wanted men now, so I don’t think it’s a good idea to hang around.”

  Lug and Waggit agreed she was right, and so the three of them moved off. Waggit’s desire to get away from the area was so great that he found himself pulling on his reattached leash, dragging Felicia after him.

  “Waggit,” she pleaded, “please slow down. Apart from the fact that I’m exhausted because I didn’t get any sleep last night looking for you two miscreants, we also don’t want to attract any undue attention.”

  An eccentrically dressed woman with a huge backpack and two mismatched dogs attracted notice anyway, especially in the suburbs through which they were passing, where anything unusual was treated with suspicion. Waggit slowed down, and they walked more slowly but without stopping. He sensed that Felicia was as eager to get out of this place as he was. When they did take a break for food or water it was for the briefest time possible. Waggit was becoming tired of the journey. His normal curiosity in his surroundings had vanished, and now he was like a horse with blinders on, focused only on the destination.

  13

  Home at Last

  The landscape they passed through changed from big houses with large gardens to smaller ones much more crowded together. These began to be interspersed with tall apartment buildings. The streets surrounding them were lined with cars, and the number of people multiplied. The stores became more garish, with bigger, brighter signs and flashing neon lights. For Waggit this was exciting; he was beginning to feel the pulse of the city once again. But Lug, who had never seen this many people or buildings, seemed
terrified. He was frightened of someone tripping over him or stepping on his paws, and he stayed as close to Felicia as possible.

  It was late afternoon now, and they had been walking for many hours. They were in a neighborhood of large, drab blocks of apartments and boarded-up storefronts. Trash littered the streets, including abandoned cars, some with wheels missing and windshields smashed. Felicia suddenly stopped, took off her backpack, put it on the broken sidewalk, and sat down, her shoulders hunched in despair.

  “I’m sorry, boys,” she groaned. “I don’t think I can go on.”

  “Come on, Felicia,” urged Waggit. “We must be nearly there. Don’t quit on us now. I so want you to meet the team and for them to know you. It’s important. I want them to know that there are a few Uprights we can be friends with. We’ve come so far, and we’re so close. We can’t give up.”

  “That’s true,” said Lug, “we must go on, because I want to see trees again, and Waggit says there’s lots of trees in the park.”

  Felicia remained slumped on the backpack. After a minute she straightened herself up.

  “All right,” she said. “Just let me rest for a while and then we’ll continue.”

  “We’ll look after you,” Waggit assured her. “You relax and we’ll protect you.”

  The dogs stood on either side guarding her, while she sat erect, with her eyes closed, gently breathing in and out, calming herself and restoring her strength. She had been doing this for several minutes when a car came toward them on the road. It was large and old and had obviously seen a lot of hard use. The hood was a different color from the rest of the bodywork; one of the side mirrors was held on with silver duct tape; where the radio antenna had been there was now a squashed wire coat hanger. The windows were all open, allowing the cheerful sound of loud dance music onto the dreary street. It drew next to them and stopped, and the equally cheerful face of the driver peered out of the front passenger window.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he cried. “What’s happening?”

  Felicia opened her eyes and tired though she was his smile made her smile.

  “At the moment,” she said with a sigh, “not much.”

  “Oh yeah?” the driver said. “Well, you can’t stay there all day. Where you goin’?”

  “Central Park,” replied Felicia.

  “Okay,” he said. “I take you there.”

  “Why would you do that?” asked Felicia.

  “’Cause that’s what I do, lady. That’s how I make my living. Look at the license plate.” He chuckled. “You see what it say there? It say TLC. You know what that mean? It don’ mean Tender Loving Care, believe me. It mean Taxi and Limousine Commission, and that’s what I am. I am a lim-oh-zeen.”

  “Oh, I see.” It dawned on Felicia. “You’ll take us there for money?”

  “That’s the way I prefer it, for sure,” he replied.

  “How much money?” she asked.

  “How about twenny?”

  Felicia responded by raising her right eyebrow.

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “You nice lady. I take you for fifteen.”

  “And you don’t mind the dogs?” she asked.

  “Nah, I love dogs, and that’s a good-looking dog.” He pointed to Lug. “You wanna sell him?”

  “No.” Felicia smiled at the idea that anyone would pay money for Lug. “I think I’ll keep him.”

  By now Waggit was getting restless with this conversation that he didn’t understand.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked Felicia.

  “This man says he’ll drive us to the park if we give him money,” she explained.

  “Do we have any?” Waggit had only a vague idea what money was.

  “Enough to pay him,” said Felicia.

  “Can we trust him?” Waggit inquired.

  “I think so,” said Felicia.

  Waggit didn’t like the sound of think, but if it meant getting to the park quicker, and without having to walk anymore, it was probably worth the risk.

  “Let’s do it,” he muttered.

  “Very well,” Felicia said to the man, “we accept your terms.”

  The driver got out and put the backpack in the trunk. He opened the rear door for Felicia and the dogs by kicking it three times while pulling hard on the handle. Felicia and Waggit got in, but Lug held back, pulling away as far as his twine leash would let him.

  “It’s okay,” the driver said to him. “Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.”

  And he gently lifted the plump dog onto the backseat. He then closed the door, which involved kicking it again, and went around to the driver’s seat and started the motor. The car lurched forward, leaving a trail of blue smoke in its wake. He drove very fast and had the unnerving habit of turning around to look directly at the backseat’s occupants when he spoke to them. Actually he didn’t speak but had to shout, because he didn’t reduce the volume on the music, which, if it had been loud in the street, was deafening inside the car.

  “I’m Miguel,” he yelled. “What’s your name?”

  “Felicia,” she shouted at the top of her voice.

  “What?” said Miguel.

  “Felicia!” she repeated even louder.

  “Felicia,” he said. “That’s a nice name. Fel-lee-see-ya.”

  “Thank you,” she shouted back.

  “What?” he asked again.

  “Do you think you could turn off the radio?” Felicia pleaded.

  Miguel looked at her in the rearview mirror with an expression that indicated she had clearly lost her mind. It seemed never to have occurred to him that you could drive without constant loud music.

  “Well, okay,” he reluctantly agreed.

  He was a man who couldn’t abide silence and the fact that his radio was switched off made him all the more talkative. He asked them where they were from, and when Felicia said upstate he told them that he loved the countryside and that in his native land he had lived as a farmer but you couldn’t make any money so he joined his cousin in New York, but jobs were hard to find so he borrowed the money to buy this car and that’s what he did now, seven days a week, twelve hours a day, and he liked talking to the people he picked up, but some of them made him take them places and then ran off without paying the money they owed him, and the police didn’t care that a poor immigrant had just had ten dollars stolen from him because if you didn’t pay your fare it was like stealing. Within a couple of miles Felicia knew all about his family, and who was talking to whom, and which one was getting married, and who just had a baby, and then suddenly he said, “Hey, there it is. Manhattan.”

  “Waggit, look, you’re back,” Felicia said.

  But he was already standing up, excitedly peering over Miguel’s shoulder through the windshield. There it was, glittering in the dusk, the buildings tall and sparkling, like the ones at the part of the park the dogs called the Skyline End. The car was on a raised highway heading toward this shimmering apparition.

  “This is it, Lug,” said Waggit. “Home.”

  Lug looked at it, never having seen anything like it in his life before.

  “It’s big, Waggit,” he said. “Is it safe?”

  “Stick with me and you’ll be all right,” Waggit replied. He was feeling so good at being back that even Lug’s fear wasn’t going to spoil it.

  Miguel drove down an exit ramp and across a small bridge, explaining to Felicia that this way he didn’t have to pay a toll, and then there they were, in the middle of it all. The cars honked, people shouted, and radios played. It was a mild night and everybody seemed to be out on the street. Lug said that it reminded him of the Fourth of July parade that came past the bar every year; in Manhattan it was just the end of an ordinary day.

  They turned onto a wide avenue with trees growing in the middle and beautiful old apartment buildings on either side, in front of which stood smart, white-gloved doormen. The woman Waggit lived with before she left him at the farm also lived in an apartment building, but not one nearly as gra
nd as these. By now Waggit could smell the park. It smelled differently from the countryside, a delicious mix of rural and city scents—fresh-cut grass mixed with exhaust fumes, new leaves competing with hotdog stands, the wind off the lake mingling with the aroma of many people. Miguel made a right turn, and then a couple of blocks later he pulled up in front of the familiar gray stone walls that marked the park’s boundary.

  “Here we are. This is Central Park,” he said as if he owned it.

  Felicia and the two dogs got out of the car, Waggit’s tail vibrating with excitement. There was a moment of consternation because the trunk was stuck, trapping Felicia’s backpack inside it, but after Miguel had retrieved a tire iron from beneath his seat and whacked the lid a couple of times it yawned open. From the marks on the trunk it was clear that this wasn’t the first time it had been opened in this manner. Felicia got out the brown envelope in which she carried her money and extracted one ten and one five dollar bill and offered it to him.

  “No,” he said, “that’s okay, you don’t have to pay me. I like you and you dogs. You nice lady, muy simpatico.”

  “Miguel,” said Felicia patiently, “I appreciate that, but you do this for your living. You have to take the money; it wouldn’t be fair to your family.”

  “Okay.” Miguel grinned. “You really nice lady. Crazy, but nice. Here, I give you my card, case you need me again.”

  He put the money in his pocket, bid them farewell, and drove off in a cloud of smoke. When he was about two hundred feet away the radio came back on, deafening even at that distance. Felicia turned to Waggit.

  “Right, Waggit. This is your park. The rest is up to you. You lead and we’ll follow.”

  14