The Death & Life of an American Dog

by Ralph Vaughan

  “No,” Sunny sighed. “That time, Levi was on his own, and barely lived to talk about it, not that he does.”

  Gibbs made a soft whispery sound.

  “Yes, of course, we should be going if we want to be there if Levi needs us,” Sunny said. She looked about worriedly. “But it is odd about the cats.”

  The four old dogs started down the darkened street, loping at the fastest speed of the slowest dog, a concession unmentioned by any, lest an admission might be forced.

  * * *

  “He seems to be waking up on his own,” Yoda observed.

  “I would have rather he slept through the night after hearing what you told me,” Sally said. “But the body and the mind work for what’s best for the whole dog…even when it’s painful.”

  “Perhaps it would be best if I…” Kim whispered, moving from between Baron’s chest and the crook of his foreleg.

  “Yes,” the Collie agreed. “From what Yoda told me about the incident at the shopping center, it would probably be best for Baron, and for you, of course, if he did not awaken with a cat in his face.”

  Kim unlimbered her body, ignoring the aches and pains that came with a quarter-century on Earth, and started for the door.

  “But, stay, please,” Sally urged. “He may not remember on a conscious level, but your purring and your heartbeat will still have registered in his mind.” She smiled. “Dogs grow up, but in many ways they never stop being puppies, never lose the basic need for a maternal touch.”

  “You do realize I’m a cat, right?” Kim said.

  “Motherhood binds all species together.”

  Kim shook her head. She had been told the Collie was some kind of therapy dog, and though she did not quite understand what that meant, it obviously included having some very strange ideas.

  Suddenly, Baron jerked, rolled and lifted his head from the carpet, almost attaining the Sphinx Position. He whipped his head about wildly, as if searching for some means of escape.

  “Speak to him,” Sally told Yoda, “but don’t approach him just yet. He thinks he’s trapped, and we don’t want to do anything that will actually motivate him to flee.”

  “Hi, Baron, it’s Yoda,” the Pomeranian said nervously. “Your friend. Remember me?”

  The German Shepherd looked about wildly, then settled his gaze on Yoda. The dog’s brown eyes were wide, seemingly touched by fire. Yoda sensed Baron was on the verge of lunging at him, but he remained where he was and grinned a goofy grin, such as only a fox-faced Pomeranian can manage. Gradually, the fire died, the threat subsided, and Baron dropped his muzzle to his paws with a deep sigh.

  “The cats,” Baron murmured, his gaze drifting to Kim. “No, not you…you purred, didn’t you?” He looked back to Yoda. “Cats. Cats with funny ears.”

  “The Chop Ears,” Yoda said.

  Baron nodded, then smiled. “That was some fight.”

  “You saved my life,” Yoda breathed.

  Baron shook his head. “No, I think you’ve saved mine.”

  “Hello, Baron, my name is Sally, and I want to help you,” the Collie said. “Your friends have been worried about you. Do you know where you are?”

  Baron looked around. “Not a village, maybe one of the cities.”

  “Don’t try to guess the name of the city,” Sally said, stepping a little closer to her patient, “but tell me where you think the city might be.”

  “We were in Zabul Province,” Baron replied. “But we could have moved on, I suppose. Paktika or Ghazni maybe?”

  Sally glanced at her two companions, then back to Baron. “In Afghanistan?” After a hesitant nod from Baron, she asked: “Do you remember leaving Afghanistan?”

  “I don’t…” Baron paused. “There was a dark place, metal, and it rattled. There were noises, a droning sound and the voices of companions…moans and breaths…many breaths.”

  “And after the dark place?” Sally prompted.

  “There was a bright place with other dogs, no companions,” Baron said. “A sharp pain. Noise. A voice came to me from out of the flames and called me Iblis. No, my name is Baron! Not Iblis! The voice calls me Iblis, says I am cursed, that I must pay for my sins with my life. I run. I run fast.” He was panting wildly now, and his eyes were again flaring wide. “I have to get away! I have to run! I have to hide from Anila! She will tell the others to kill me. Must escape! Must hide from the enemy! I have to…”

  He started to rise, to crouch into a spring.

  “You’re safe with friends, no reason to…” Sally tried to stop Yoda, but the smaller dog was too fast. “No, Yoda, stay back!”

  Yoda did not hear Sally’s warning or Kim’s cry of alarm. He only knew Baron was in distress, and his first impulse was to surge forward and help.

  “Baron, take it easy, buddy,” Yoda said, his grinning face just inches away from a gigantic pair of snarling choppers ready to snap down. “You’re not in Afghanistan anymore, but Chula Vista, and no one can get to you, not while you’re with friends. You got me and Sally and Kim and all sorts of friends, so don’t you worry about anything. You’re safe. You’re in Chula Vista, in America, where you belong…you’re an American dog!”

  By slow degrees, Baron’s growls subsided to panted whimpers, and he settled back to the floor. Yoda moved away.

  “That’s either the bravest thing I’ve ever seen, or the stupidest,” the Collie whispered.

  “Or both,” Kim added softly.

  “Either way, it seems to have worked,” Sally noted.

  Baron looked around, brow furrowed by worry and confusion. He looked at the three animals in turn, then settled on Yoda.

  “I’m not in Afghanistan anymore?” he asked.

  Yoda shook his head.

  “From what you said, it seems you were air transported out of the combat area on a medical flight,” Sally said. “It would explain the darkness, the metal, the sounds…”

  “Yes, there was an airplane, a companion who stroked my head and wept,” Baron murmured. “Not like we weep, of course, but with tears from the eyes. I don’t know who he was.”

  “And then you were brought to a veterinary facility, the place of light, and with other dogs,” Sally said. She looked to Yoda and Kim. “It would have to be near here. We usually bring injured and traumatized dogs into Camp Pendleton on the west coast.”

  “That’s a fair piece for a dog to travel, even under the best of circumstances,” Yoda pointed out. “To end up in Chula Vista and not in Oceanside or somewhere else along the way would be a long shot, if you know what I mean.”

  “If there were difficulties at Pendleton, weather or something, the flight could be rerouted to MCAS Miramar,” Sally mused.

  “Still about twenty miles from there to here,” Yoda said, “but hardly in the league of an incredible journey.”

  “I work more with companions than other dogs, but, as I said, most dogs come in through Pendleton,” Sally said. “Depending on what’s wrong, they’re either kept on base, sent to contract surgeries in Oceanside, or are transferred north to Los Angeles or Fort Irwin.”

  “But if they’re diverted to Miramar?” Yoda asked.

  “We don’t have any Army facilities around here.”

  “But you’re an Army dog, right?” Yoda pointed out.

  “Yes, but I’m attached to the Veterans Administration in San Diego, working with companions from all branches of the service,” she answered. “Retired and inactive military dogs are settled with patients, and those are usually the ones I work with.”

  “What do you mean, inactive?” Yoda asked.

  “Removed from active duty, but not retired,” Sally answered. “It’s an in-between state. Dogs might return to active duty, but often they are retired into the care of the companion to whom they are assigned. Why do you ask?”

  “When Little Kitty was doing some research, she found out the number on Baron’s ID tag is inactive,” Yoda said.

  Sally looked back to the German Shepherd. “Bar
on, is it okay if I take a look at your ID tag?”

  Baron did not look at her, but nodded.

  Sally slowly moved forward. She pressed her muzzle against his, sniffed his face and ears in a friendly manner and let him do the same, then examined the disk and returned to Yoda and Kim.

  “That’s not an ID a dog would wear in a combat area.”

  “Noise,” Yoda murmured, understanding.

  “It would be issued temporarily to a physically or emotionally disabled dog while retirement was being considered,” Sally said. “If the dog were eventually fit for duty, he would be returned to the unit named on the tag; if the decision was to retire him into the care of a deserving companion, he would receive a different ID tag.”

  “Like Atlas’?” Yoda asked.

  “Not as good,” Sally replied. “Love gave Atlas what he has.”

  “So, you’re saying Baron might not have fled from Miramar, but from somewhere else?” Kim asked.

  Sally nodded. “Could have been a contract vet nearby or…”

  “A companion?” Yoda suggested.

  “That would make sense,” Sally said. “Or the companion could have taken him to a local vet…yes, that would make even more sense.” She looked to Baron speculatively.

  “Hey, Baron, you said there was a place of light,” Yoda said. “You said there were other dogs there.”

  Baron nodded. “And a sharp pain…”

  “Probably a shot,” Sally said.

  Yoda winced in vicarious and sympathetic pain.

  “Do you recall anything else about the place?” Sally asked.

  “Big dogs,” Baron murmured, dropping his head to his paws, letting his eyelids half close.

  “Were they…” Sally started to ask.

  “Big dogs not moving,” Baron continued, and the others fell still as he was gripped by the mists of memory. “Big dogs swinging back and forth…a happy cat rising over me…moving out of the way when you push…swinging…grinning…”

  “Hmm.” Yoda’s ears perked up. “It would make sense.”

  Both Sally and Kim looked to Yoda.

  “Banfield Pet Hospital,” Yoda said.

  “I’ve heard of it,” Sally said. “What about it?”

  “It’s where Baron was when he fled,” Yoda asserted. “It’s how he ended up in that alley, why he’s been knocking around Chula Vista for who knows how long. It’s less than a couple miles away.”

  “Yes, that would explain how he came here,” Sally admitted. “But how do you know?”

  “Kim, it’s where we go to see the vet,” Yoda said.

  “Yes, it is but I don’t see…” Revelation replaced confusion on her furry face. “Big dogs! Swinging dogs! A smiling cat that moves out of the way when you push. Oh, I get it!”

  “Well, I don’t get it,” Sally complained. “What are you two talking about?”

  “The dogs and cats on the doors!” Yoda exclaimed, as if that explained it all.

  Sally looked at Yoda as if he were stark barking mad.

  “We go to Banfield Pet Hospital for treatment, checks-ups and the like,” Kim said. “It’s on Paseo Del Rey, just off East H. On the doors of the rooms they have paintings of cats and dogs.”

  “Big dogs and big cats, way larger than normal-sized dogs and cats,” Yoda added. He was discouraged when he saw Sally looking just as confused as before. “Dogs that don’t move, but they swing aside…a cat on a door that moves when you push it.”

  “Great Anubis, I think you’ve got it,” Sally said happily. “Is there a way to check their records?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll go ask Little Kitty,” Yoda replied. “She is the one who usually handles that sort of thing for us.

  “Do that, but return quickly,” Sally said. “With a starting point, we can work to uncover Baron’s memories, which are now hiding in his nightmares. If we reveal those memories, we’ll not only find the answers we’re looking for, but we’ll put a stop to the nightmares that are tormenting him.”

  Leaving Sally and Kim to start Baron’s healing process, Yoda sought out Little Kitty. He found her sleeping atop the couch, as he had expected, woke her, and told her what they wanted her to do.

  “You know it’s after midnight, right?” she yawned.

  “Aren’t you the cat who told me computers never sleep?”

  “All right,” she sighed wearily. “I’ll do it.”

  Yoda looked around. “Hey, where is everyone?”

  “They went…” She shut up. “Can’t tell you…Never mind.”

  “Where did they go, Little Kitty?”

  “I’m not supposed to tell you,” the Calico explained.

  “Not supposed to tell me what?”

  “That they went after…” She shut her mouth again, but saw from Yoda’s expression that she had shut it too late.

  “They went after Levi, didn’t they?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Yoda smiled. “I think you already did. As the saying goes, the cat is out of the bag.”

  “That is such an offensive saying, probably thought up by some dog,” Little Kitty fumed. “You don’t hear cats going around making up offensive sayings about…”

  “Don’t try to change the subject, Little Kitty,” Yoda growled. “Sunny and the others went after Levi, didn’t they?”

  “Maybe, but I don’t really know, do I, since they told me I couldn’t go with them,” Little Kitty replied, trying to assail Yoda with cat-logic, even though she knew it was useless.

  Yoda moved toward the door, scratched at it and waited for it to be opened.

  “Where are you going?” Little Kitty demanded.

  “After Sunny and the others,” Yoda replied as the door opened.

  Little Kitty leaped up. “I’m going too!”

  “No, you have work to do,” Yoda snapped. “When you find out anything, tell Sally and Kim.”

  “What do I tell them about you?”

  “Nothing,” Yoda replied as he headed out the door. “And do a better job of not telling them about me than you did not telling me about the others.”

  “Well, you never heard it from me!” Little Kitty yelled toward the closing door.

  Except for a single street lamp, Fifth Avenue was unlit, and Yoda found himself suddenly aware, and wary, of the darkness and the silence. It was not the solitude of the night that bothered him, he reflected, as he looked around, but the uncertainly of that solitude. It still rankled him that the Gull Dong had apparently watched him in the alley, and later on the side street, without him detecting the dog at all through his hearing.

  He moved to the walkway, stood near the huge gnarled pepper tree that had so long watched over the neighborhood. Over the long decades it had outgrown and shoved aside its enclosing brick ring, had reached out with twisted limbs to give shade to generations of dogs. Yoda stood still on the pavement, letting a soundscape rise around him, letting the noises of the night take shape and whisper their secrets to him.

  He heard the flitter of the leaves overhead as they were tickled by gentle breezes. Never-ending traffic assumed a cottony ambience that formed a background for more transient sounds, the distant wail of a siren, the swoosh a soaring hawk, the squeak of a bat, rhythms of all the small lives in the surrounding houses, the whimpers…

  Yoda stiffened at the sounds of pain, two injured dogs in back yards, one to the south, the other closer. So focused was Yoda on those cries for help that he did not at first notice the murmur of movement very close to him, and when he did it was too late.

  A shadow lunged from behind the pepper tree, enveloping him, silencing him, rendering him unconscious. Powerful jaws grabbed Yoda by the scruff of the neck and carried him away into the night.

  Chapter 10

  Levi picked his way cautiously among the seaweed-covered stones on the south shore of the peninsula. Most of the rocks had been dumped when constructing the marina south of the waterfront. Across the starlit channel Levi saw the Marine Gro
up Boat Works, cranes and gantries gaunt against the stars, the glinting fiberglass or wooden hulls of ships and yachts in for repairs and renovation.

  He squeezed between blocks where he could, edged around when they were too close to each other. Just up from the rocks were brush and thick stands of weeds. Every few steps, Levi paused and, staying hunkered close to the ground, lifted his muzzle and sniffed at the scents wafting down from the main body of the peninsula.

  If guards were set against the night, and surely they would be, they would be up in the bracken or among the trees further on where they could watch the road. Levi hoped the dogs from Afghanistan, being creatures of deserts and mountains, would not consider the narrow strip of the shore a path of opportunity for any intruder.

  He came to a section where the stones had been heaped high, a barrier to tides and erosion. Unfortunately, they had settled together so that there were no passages between them. The only ways to traverse them were to cross over them, during which he would be fully exposed to any watcher, or to go around, one path leading into the water to a steep defile on the other side, the other taking him into the brush at the top of the slope. After a few moments of consideration, and several sniffs of the air, Levi started up.

  Though the length of his legs lifted him above the weeds grown rampant on the peninsula since its abandonment, Levi stayed low, almost crawling at times. Just ahead, he saw a tree rising against the night, its limbs nearly barren of foliage. Beyond that, he saw a dark mass, all that remained of the Shangri-La Restaurant. At one time, its twin towers rose in imitation of the jungle temples of Southeast Asia, but the place went out of business after a few years, it was left to the elements, and no one was at all surprised when one night the towers came crashing down. Abandoned, the peninsula made a convenient dumping ground for marina debris and a gathering place for homeless companions and stray dogs and cats.

  And, now, for some very unsavory interlopers, Levi thought as he sniffed at the breeze skimming the spine of the peninsula.

  He smelled them ahead, along the road, scattered through the ruins. Levi frowned as he analyzed the individual scent plumes. He recognized the scent first picked up in the alley, though now tinged with blood and the bitter scent-molecules released during pain, but there were too few scents upon the peninsula. There should be six, but he detected only five. While it was possible he was simply missing the sixth dog, its odor either too faint or lost in the marine scents sweeping in off the bay, Levi did not think that was the case.