by Peter Howe
“So what happened to him there?” asked Felicia.
“Well, you know,” said Ruth, “I had forgotten that country people don’t treat their dogs the way we do in the city. The farm dogs are working dogs, and they hardly ever go in the house. They live in the yard, and Parker was treated exactly the same as the others. I think my boy must have been very unhappy, because according to my brother he fought with the other dogs, which was something he never did in the park. In fact he was the friendliest dog you could imagine and loved to play. Anyway, one day he broke the chain that tethered him in the yard and got out and has never been seen since. I suppose he was run over or killed by coyotes or something horrible like that. I’ll never forgive myself for doing that to him.”
Her eyes were welling with tears as she told the story.
“I’m sorry,” said Felicia. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You know, dogs are remarkable survivors, and you can’t assume that he’s dead. You hear the most amazing stories of endurance—dogs that travel for hundreds of miles and turn up months after they go missing.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Ruth, “but it’s not knowing what happened to him that’s the worst thing.”
It was this last remark that caused Waggit so much pain later. He understood none of what had been said, of course, even though he overheard it but had to wait until the two women wished each other good-bye and Felicia retrieved him from behind the bush to find out what had happened. When she finished recounting the conversation, she looked at him with an “I-told-you-so” expression on her face.
Waggit himself was in a state of shock.
“I feel awful, Felicia,” he finally said. “I was sure that she had just dumped me. The trouble is, when it’s happened to you once, you’re always half expecting it to happen again. What with Lug first, and now the woman—I seem to be wrong about everything.”
“Well,” said Felicia, “you can’t do anything about Lug, but you could do something about Ruth.”
“What?” asked Waggit.
“You could live with her again,” said Felicia. “She’d take you back in a heartbeat.”
Waggit thought for a minute.
“You know, Felicia,” he said, “I can’t do that. I realized when I came back to the park that I belong to the team. Part of me never really left it. For all its hardships and difficulties, this is my home, and these are my dogs. They’re as much a part of me as my ears or my tail.”
“In that case, my boy, you’re going to have to be like everybody else and live with your mistakes. We all make ’em; I’ve made some whoppers, and at least in Ruth’s case your mistake was a direct result of hers. That should be some consolation.”
It should have been, but in fact it wasn’t. Waggit felt bad for several days, knowing that he had hurt someone who cared for him, and that because of his own fears he had badly misjudged her. However his mind was soon taken up with other matters that would affect the future rather than the past.
The weather was getting cooler, clearly indicating that summer was over and autumn had arrived. The first frost hadn’t yet happened, but there were mornings when the dogs’ breath hung in the air like steam. It was a time of year that Waggit welcomed. He loved the combination of the early chill and the warmth of the sun later in the day. He and Lowdown were sitting with Gordo on a rock at the edge of the Deepwoods End watching some humans endlessly throw balls to one another, which, the dogs secretly thought, looked like it might be fun.
“This cool weather makes me feel so sort of bouncy,” Waggit remarked.
“It makes me feel so sort of achy,” replied Lowdown.
“It makes me feel hungry,” grumbled Gordo.
“Anything makes you feel hungry,” said Lowdown.
Just then Felicia joined them. She was hunched up and rubbing the tops of her arms, trying to get warm.
“Wow,” she said. “It’s a little chilly today.”
“We was just remarking on the same thing,” said Lowdown. “Apparently it makes Mr. Activity here full of bounce.”
“It makes me full of dread,” Felicia remarked. “I can’t take it.”
“Me neither,” agreed Lowdown. “My old bones throb something terrible in the cold.”
“I have to find a warmer place than here to live during the Long Cold,” said Felicia.
“Like the flutters, you mean?” asked Gordo.
“I suppose, in a way,” replied Felicia. “Like them I shall have to leave you all, at least until next year.”
“Where will you go?” asked Waggit.
“Somewhere south of here,” said Felicia. “I’m not exactly sure where.”
“Where’s south?” asked Gordo.
Felicia pointed in the direction of the skyscrapers at the far end of the park.
“The Skyline End?” said Gordo, incredulously. “The Skyline End ain’t any warmer than the Deepwoods. In fact most of the time it’s a lot windier.”
“No, Gordo.” Felicia smiled. “Somewhere much farther in that direction than the Skyline End. Farther even than the journey that Waggit and I took together.”
There was silence as the three dogs contemplated the possibility of such a monumental expedition.
“When—um—when do you think you might leave?” asked Waggit hesitantly.
“Quite soon,” said Felicia. “I think I might hit the road tomorrow.”
A gloom fell over the three dogs. Felicia leaving, and being without her help and wise advice, not to mention the occasional feasts that she put on, would cause an empty space in the team that would be impossible to fill. There wasn’t one dog who had a bad word to say about her now, and they all recognized that she was an exceptional human being, one like they would never meet again; she had subtly altered the way they—even Tazar—felt about “Uprights.”
“We’re going to miss you,” said Waggit.
“Oh, I’ll be back,” Felicia assured him. “You don’t think I’m going to give up all the friends I’ve made here, do you? As soon as it gets warm you’ll see me crashing through the woods again.”
“I believe you will,” agreed Lowdown, “and I hope I’m here to see it, but that don’t mean we ain’t going to miss you in the meantime.”
“And I will miss you,” said Felicia, “and I’m sure you’ll be here when I return. A tough, leathery old character like you is hard to get rid of. Well, I must be off. I’ve got to pop into town to get some things for the journey.”
Gordo’s ears pricked up.
“No, Gordo,” she said. “Upright things—nothing you’d be interested in.”
She headed toward the Skyline End, and as she did the three dogs watched her tall, lanky body stride away.
“I can’t believe she’s leaving,” Waggit said with a sigh.
“Well, to be fair,” Lowdown pointed out, “she always said she would. We knew this was just temporary for her.”
“I know,” agreed Waggit, “but I hoped she would change her mind.”
“I thought she liked us,” said Gordo mournfully.
“She does,” said Lowdown. “Just because she’s leaving don’t mean she ain’t our friend no more.”
The three dogs left their rock to bring the bad news to the rest of the team. They found most of its members enjoying the sun in the meadow by the entrance to the pipe. The reaction to Felicia leaving was the same: real sadness edged with a tinge of disbelief. As he heard them talk about her, Waggit realized that the reason they were so fond of her was that they saw in her the qualities, real or imaginary, that they most valued in themselves. Alicia thought she was classy; Magica saw her as a caring, nurturing person; Cal and Raz thought she was fun; Tazar valued her ability to think strategically; Alona recognized her as a true outsider, one who followed her own path; Gruff thought she was one of the few creatures who really understood his problems and sympathized with him. Waggit simply thought of her as a loyal friend, whose guidance he would miss.
“We should do something so she know
s how sad we are to see her go,” said Magica.
Everyone murmured that this was a good idea, but nobody could work out what would be suitable.
“Maybe we could hunt her a hopper,” said Gordo, “and let her have it all without sharing.”
In Gordo’s mind there was no higher act of generosity.
“Nah,” said Raz, “that ain’t going to work. Felicia only likes her food burned, and we don’t know how to do fire.”
“Which is just as well,” said Gruff, “’cause if you did you’d probably burn the whole park down, and then where would we be?”
“Maybe we could all groom her,” suggested Alicia.
“How about we play a really good game with her?” asked Cal.
The ideas came and went, each of them impractical or inappropriate, until Tazar cleared his throat.
“None of these is going to work,” he said, “because they’re all what you want to do. What we need to do is to show her the way the whole team feels about her, and the best way to do that is to tell her. Since Waggit was the one who brought her to us, he should be the one to do it.”
And so it was decided that at the evening meal they would gather around Felicia, and Waggit would speak on their behalf and try to make her realize how important she had become to all the dogs and how they hoped that she would be back as soon as the warm weather returned.
25
A Friend’s Good-bye
That afternoon, as luck would have it, Cal and Raz found a box that contained an almost complete pizza. They came across it farther from the Deepwoods than they usually went and had to drag their prize back to the pipe. This, they insisted, was to be a farewell gift for Felicia, and both of them guarded it until the evening meal, growling ferociously whenever anyone came close. Felicia seemed delighted with the offering when it was presented to her, although as Gordo noted, she left most of it.
“I guess that’s why she stays so thin,” he later confided to Waggit.
It was a pleasant meal, despite an edge of sadness. In the conversations that took place between mouthfuls, they reminisced about Felicia and the time that she had spent in the park. Despite her promises to return when the weather got warmer, it was difficult for the dogs to think that far ahead, living on a day-to-day basis as they did. As the meal was winding down, lips were being smacked, and yawns were beginning to be yawned, Tazar got up and cleared his throat.
“Lady Felicia,” he began when he had their attention, “this meal was the last we will enjoy with you for some time. You have brought much pleasure to our team in the months you have been with us, but tonight there’s more sorrow than joy because you are leaving. I never thought I’d say this about an Upright, but we will miss you. We wanted to get you something to remember us by, but we’re just dogs, and poor ones at that. What we have is of no use to you. The only thing we can give you is what we most value: the love we have for one another, and that we give you wholeheartedly. I’m not one for long speeches; I’m more a dog of action.” There were smothered snorts and giggles at this point. “So I’m going to let one who speaks better than I tell you how we feel about you.”
He nodded to Waggit, who got to his feet.
“Felicia,” said Waggit, “I know if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be standing here tonight, and I wouldn’t be reunited with my family, these dogs. You saved my life, but you not only saved my life, you made it better. You told me that it was okay if I wasn’t perfect, that it’s only canine to get angry or jealous. But you also showed me that it’s not okay if I don’t try to be the best I can, that I have to try to be loving and compassionate and brave, even if I don’t think I am. You made me a better team member because of it. When we were talking about what to do tonight the whole team spoke about the way they felt about you. Some mentioned how wise you are, and others how caring, but the one thing everyone said was that you seem like a dog, and a team dog at that. No Upright was ever given such a compliment, but you earned it. So now you are officially a Tazarian, and every time you’re in the park we will protect you and care for you. I don’t know how many risings will pass before we see you again, but I know we will. Once you’re a Tazarian you’re always a Tazarian. You’ll always come back.”
As he finished his speech the team erupted in a roar of yelps, barks, and howls, scaring the life out of a couple of Uprights who had braved the darkness of the woods, strolling hand in hand to get some peace and quiet. For her part Felicia was in tears, unable to speak, but still able to stroke, kiss, and tickle each one of them under the chin before they turned in for the night.
She spent the first part of the following day folding her tent, checking the contents of her backpack, putting new laces in her boots, then rechecking the backpack and fiddling with the tent and the sleeping bag that were attached to it. The dogs realized that she was putting off leaving, but finally she sighed, stood up, and heaved the pack onto her back, adjusting the straps around her shoulders. She turned to look at the mournful faces watching her.
“Time to go,” she said simply, and strode off into the woods in the direction of the Skyline End that the dogs now knew was south.
“Bye, Felicia.”
“Come back soon.”
“Don’t forget us.”
She didn’t turn around, but marched off and soon disappeared into the trees.
“Well, I suppose that’s the last we’ll see of her,” grumbled Gruff.
“No, she’ll be back sometime,” Lowdown assured him.
“I hope so,” said Magica. “What makes you so sure she will?”
“I feel it in my old bones.”
“Oh, you and your bones,” shrieked Alicia. “You feel everything in your bones—what the weather’s gonna be, where the Ruzelas are, who ain’t telling the truth. You got the most overworked bones of any dog I know.”
“Yeah,” said Lowdown, “and when have they been wrong?”
This silenced Alicia and the rest of the team, because nobody could remember a time when they couldn’t rely on Lowdown to accurately predict things, and his bones were as good an explanation for this ability as anything. In fact the only sound that could be heard was Tazar muttering to himself.
“I’ve never met one like her before, that’s for sure, and I don’t think I’m ever likely to again.”
But however sorry you are to see someone go, and however much you miss them, life has to go on; it’s a matter of survival. Food had to be hunted, sentries posted, coats groomed, and all the other tasks that made up life in the park had to be carried out. Not that anyone forgot Felicia, but as the days passed she became just one of the things they thought about, mostly when some part of the park reminded them of something she had done there. The little stone monument to Lug that she had erected over his grave flooded them with memories every time they passed it. Some dogs avoided going that way if they could.
Tazar was still having difficulty coming to terms with the defection of his son to the enemy team, and the other dogs feared he never would. The snippets of information that he got about the boy through the park grapevine didn’t help either. Rumor had it that Olang hadn’t just joined Tashi’s old team but was now leading it. One of the loners reported that he had changed its name from the Tashinis to the Olangsters (or Olangster’s Gangsters as Lowdown immediately renamed them) and was recruiting new members wherever he could. In order to do this he was using some of the larger, tougher dogs on his team to “persuade” unfortunate loners or newly abandoned animals to become part of the group. Now that he was without the oversight of his father, his bullying knew no bounds.
“I don’t get it,” Tazar said to Waggit after hearing another report of his wayward son’s activities. “I still don’t understand why he went against me. I cared for him, I gave him all a puppy could need, and I was grooming him to take over as leader when I’m no longer able to carry out my duties. He had everything he could want.”
“Oftentimes dogs have to make their own mistakes, to find things out for th
emselves,” said Lowdown, who had been listening to the conversation. He might have added, “especially when they have domineering parents,” but he didn’t.
“No,” Waggit assured Tazar, “it was me. For some reason he felt threatened by me being here. He felt you were paying me too much attention, and that you didn’t respect him as much as he wanted you to.”
“I heard,” Tazar said, “that he’s telling dogs that the reason he left the team was that I’m too old to lead, that I’m past it.”
He paused for a moment, a mournful look on his usually proud face.
“I sometimes wonder if he’s right,” Tazar continued. “Maybe I am too old and too set in my ways. Perhaps I should’ve stepped aside and let him take over.”
Waggit looked at this exceptional dog, who may have had a few gray hairs around his muzzle but who was physically fit, strong, and in the prime of his life. He worried that Olang’s treachery would paralyze Tazar’s ability to lead the team. One of the things that the Tazarians liked about their chief was the fact that he made decisions, took action. If he was wrong he always admitted it, but he did not allow past mistakes to prevent him from being decisive in the future. This self-doubt and self-pity were new and ominous. As if to confirm his fears, Tazar let out a monumental sigh and without a word to the other two, loped off into the woods, his magnificent tail drooping and his ears down.
“He’s in bad shape, isn’t he?” asked Waggit.
“Yeah,” replied Lowdown. “He’s taking this real hard.”
“What will happen if it stops him from being our leader?”
“Why, you’ll take over,” said Lowdown, as if this were obvious.
“Me?” exclaimed Waggit. “Me? I told you before, I can’t lead the team.”
“You,” Lowdown insisted. “Yes, you. Why can’t you lead the team?”
