The Death & Life of an American Dog

by Ralph Vaughan

  “Help me out of there!” Yoda yelled.

  When the iron mass rolled off, the crate righted itself before Yoda could escape. Though unweighted, it was still awkward due to size and shape. The dogs lifted it, and Yoda scarpered out.

  Yoda poked Abasi hard with his pointed muzzle.

  “He dead?” Antony asked.

  Abasi uttered a ragged swinish snore.

  “Reckon not,” Gibbs remarked.

  The dogs looked at the monster that was Abasi, then at Yoda.

  “That’ll teach him not to mess with me,” Yoda quipped.

  “Here, I have something for you,” Levi said to Yoda, lifting his chin, showing the Pomeranian the green collar threaded through his own. “Thought you might want it back.”

  “You bet!” Yoda exclaimed, grabbing it with his teeth, pulling it out, then wriggling back into it. “Felt blooming nekkid, I did.”

  They laughed at his Cockney affectation.

  “What about…that?” Sunny asked, disdainfully gesturing at the unconscious Bully Kutta. “What do we do with him?”

  “I know what I’d like to do,” Yoda snarled.

  Levi smiled, pressed himself comfortingly against Yoda, and licked at his furry face.

  “Then he wouldn’t be able dwell upon how you bested him.”

  Yoda sighed. “Yes, there is that.”

  “We’ll take him into custody,” Antony announced. “Just like we did the other two earlier.”

  “What will happen to him?” Sunny asked.

  “Probably to the dogs at ICE, then, after that, well, it’s rather limited, isn’t it?” Arnold said. “If there was hope of rehabilitation, a shelter might be an option, but…” He looked at Abasi and shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Let’s get him out of here before he wakes up,” Antony said. “I’ll take one leg, you get the other, Arnold, and we’ll drag his ugly carcass back to the station.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Blackie asked.

  “If he starts to wake up, hit him in the head.” Antony glanced toward Yoda and grinned. “But try to find something smaller than a big ole block of iron.”

  The four dogs watched as the K-9 officers dragged their captive into the darkness. None wanted to speculate about what the Bully Kutta’s ultimate fate might be. Although dogs were, in general, an enlightened species, having learned to rise above the limitations imposed by nature, there were aspects of canine society and canine justice that were as primal as any of their most ancient customs. The mantle of responsibility bequeathed by First Dog and the tenants of civility proposed by Anubis led them to seek that which was best even in the worst of beings, but that was not always possible. With a rogue dog like Abasi, grossly degenerate and eternally unrepentant, beyond redemption or rehabilitation, the options, as Arnold had said, were limited, and none were pleasant to consider.

  “Tell me Baron is at home,” Yoda said. “Tell me there really was not going to be an exchange.”

  “There was,” Sunny countered, “but when Baron and Sally see you’re not there…”

  “No!” Yoda cried. “No, you don’t understand! There never was supposed to be an exchange. When they didn’t need me anymore, Abasi was supposed to take care of me, which he was getting ready to do.”

  “But when they see…” Sunny repeated.

  “It’s a trap,” Levi said grimly. “They’ll lure Baron and Sally with something that appears to be Yoda. We have to…”

  But Yoda was already gone, flying down the tunnel faster than even Levi could hope to match.

  Chapter 13

  Purdil lurked among the high weeds near the bend in the road, undetectable even to someone passing close by. He was cold and very uncomfortable. The tide was rising, and what had previously been soggy gray mud up to his wrists and fetlocks was now mixed with stinging salt water; to keep fully out of sight, he had to crouch low, and if the tide kept coming in, the chill brackish water would soon be lapping against his nearly hairless underside. Despite his discomfort, however, he dared not move, dared not rebel against Anila’s orders.

  From where he lay, he could see her in the vague gray light of the pre-dawn, waiting out on the Point where they had suffered their defeat. She stood next to the dark object he had been instructed to create after leaving the house on Fifth Avenue. From a distance, the pile of rocks and dark grasses did resemble Yoda, would likely even fool someone at a closer distance, since the expectation would be to see the Pomeranian waiting to be ransomed.

  Indeed, Iblis and one of the dogs he had seen at the house (not the black one, to his surprise) were on the road approaching his hiding spot, and they gave every indication of believing they were looking at their friend. Purdil wanted to leap from cover, wanted to warn them away from the trap, but he dared not.

  From the moment Anila gave him instructions to assemble the lure at the place of exchange, he knew he would never again see the affable Pomeranian. Despite what Anila and Abasi had told him and Yoda, an exchange was never actually intended. Yoda was only being kept alive until they were quite certain his usefulness was at an end. The deception was necessary to keep Yoda tractable, for a dog without hope was very dangerous, and likely to do anything.

  Was that the same reason they led me to believe Yoda would be exchanged in ransom for Iblis? he asked himself. When Iblis is dead on the ground and his collar is removed as proof of death, will my usefulness also be at an end?

  Iblis and the Collie were very near him now, were almost even with him. When Iblis paused and looked about, letting his gaze sweep the gray expanse of the sedge, Purdil almost prayed for the two infidel dogs to notice him, but he no longer knew what to pray…or to whom.

  He thought about what the black dog had said about Zain, wondered if it were true. Yes, Zain had always been weak in his faith, not so much a lapse of belief as an absence of zeal. When enforcing the will of the Dog at the Well, as interpreted by Anila and the great pack leaders, Zain had never savored the fear of the other dogs, never relished their submission, and if he ever took part in any of the chastisements or other punishments that resulted when the village dogs would obstinately cling to their old forbidden ways, it was always with a certain detachment, a certain sentimentality that never quite rose to the level of a sin.

  Zain was rarely chosen to administer chastisements, only when such punishment would cause as much pain to him as to the fearful recipient. No, Zain usually found himself on the receiving end of a chastisement for one infraction or another, and as Purdil thought of all those times, a wistful smile curved his mouth, for he, also, knew well the pain of tooth and nail.

  Purdil almost sighed, stopped himself as he realized such a sigh might reveal his position to the American dogs, then nearly decided to sigh anyway. But he feared the wrath of Anila too much. Perhaps Abasi and Anila would kill him once his part in this farce was over, but he still held some shred of hope. He had to—a dog without hope was pitiful, and likely to do anything.

  * * *

  “It seems Levi misjudged the situation,” Baron said, gripped by a grim sense of futility.

  “They had Yoda here before that messenger even left us,” Sally mused. “Before they knew we had accepted their offer.”

  Baron nodded and let his gaze sweep the dismal marshlands on either side of the narrow road. In the pre-dawn gloom they were layered with cold gray mist. There was probably a watcher in the marsh, surely Levi was right about that for Anila could not hope to handle him by herself. He listened for some sign they were not alone, but heard only the swish and gurgle of water flowing from the sea as the tide rose toward high.

  Reluctantly, Baron turned his gaze back to the narrow strip of Gunpowder Point jutting into the bay, to Anila waiting for him, and Yoda standing by her side. The poor little fellow must be terrified, Baron thought. The Pomeranian was a scrapper, but even he knew that to cross Anila was a sure path to death.

  “We should go back,” Sally suggested. “At least wait for the
others; they’re probably on their way here now.”

  Baron shook his head slowly. “I have to do this.”

  “No, Baron, you don’t,” Sally insisted. “You know Levi never intended for you to go through with this exchange. He thought they would be able to intercept Yoda before they moved him here.”

  “Yes, but it didn’t work out that way, did it?” Baron said. “He didn’t think we’d have to make the exchange, but it seems we have to. We can’t turn back because that would doom poor Yoda, and we can’t afford to wait. For all we know, they’re still looking for Yoda, not knowing he was never there to begin with.”

  “If Anila gets hold of you, you won’t stand a chance, not in your weakened condition,” Sally pointed out. “You’ve got a resolve, the likes of which I have not observed in any other dog, but even that cannot eliminate the effects of the shock and trauma you have been through. You’ve started your recovery, but you’re not very far along. Strength, agility, endurance—your force of will can only take you so far…and then you’ll fail.”

  Baron did not reply, did not shift his gaze from the fate waiting for him on the peninsula. If he continued on out there, he would surely die, but if he chose to turn away, Yoda would have no chance at all of life.

  “You have to think of yourself, Baron,” Sally said.

  “We come from very different worlds, you and I,” Baron said. “It’s not that my world is violent and yours is not. It’s not even that I can see my enemies and you can only see what they do to the dogs and companions you help. It’s this, Sally—when I set out on any mission, I know there is a chance I will not return, and yet I go anyway. When I was in training, an old Doberman named Aries told me, if I only went on missions where I was sure I would come back, or even succeed, I might as well pick a comfortable kennel, because I was never going to leave it.”

  “Yoda would not want you to sacrifice yourself for him.”

  “Maybe not,” Baron conceded. “But the choice isn’t his, it’s mine. Besides, before Yoda found me I felt like I was one of the walking dead, didn’t know where I was, who I was, knew only fear and pain. He brought me back to life. If I lose my life, maybe I’ll save his, an even transaction. Consider this, though: if Yoda had never found me, or if he had run away like almost any other dog would have, I’d probably be dead already, wouldn’t I?”

  “I don’t see why we can’t at least…”

  “Anila’s waiting,” Baron said softly.

  “Let her wait!” Sally snapped, unable to keep a desperate yelp out of her voice.

  Baron forced a smile, pressed his head against Sally’s, and gave the Collie a brief lick of encouragement.

  “I have to go out there because I cannot do anything else,” Baron said. “It may not make any sense to you, giving my life for a dog I barely know, but it’s what I do, and who I am. If I cannot have your understanding, then at least give me your respect.”

  “Always that, Baron,” she said, choking back a sob. “Always.”

  “Wait here,” Baron instructed.

  “No,” Sally protested. “I’m going with you.”

  “I won’t approach her until she lets Yoda go,” he promised. “Wait for Yoda on the road, then take him away as fast as you can.” He paused. “I don’t want him to see what happens.”

  “But I…”

  “Or you either, Sally.”

  “I’m going with you,” she insisted. “I promised I would escort you to the exchange, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. After the exchange, I’ll escort Yoda away.” She looked at Baron with soft sad eyes. “Don’t worry, Baron. I won’t let him look back.”

  “But he can meet you on…”

  “If you don’t understand why I have to walk with you,” Sally said, “then just accept that I must. Just respect my need.”

  Reluctantly, Baron nodded.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  * * *

  Yoda was not thinking about running or traffic, not thinking of the friends who were somewhere behind him or the enemies who were somewhere ahead of him. His only thoughts were of Baron and the danger the big dog did not know he was walking into.

  He felt no pain or weakness from the exertion of running faster than he had ever run in his life. He barely felt the walkways, streets and lawns beneath the pads of his paws. He felt almost as if he were flying. He heard barks and shouts and the occasional blare of car horns, but they seemed so very distant to him, as if they were part of a dream, only half recalled upon waking.

  Yoda did not realize it, but he had entered a trance state, such as the Lahasa Apsos of Tibet often attained in their mountain forts.

  To Yoda, the world had become a single point in front of him, which usually required hours of deep meditation. The phenomenal speed at which he ran was nothing more than him chasing that point of altered reality. In this state of mind, in which pain was an abstract and his goal a dog named Baron, he made no conscious decisions about turns or crossings or obstacles. There was but one reality and he simply followed the single path that led to it.

  He prayed he would be in time.

  * * *

  Purdil felt a pang of disappointment when Iblis and his escort resumed their journey toward Anila and the lure. For a moment, he hoped the two had somehow seen through the ruse, would turn back the way they had come. Or that Iblis would decline the exchange. It was a futile hope, he knew, for Iblis’ weakness was that he valued the lives of others over his own, was ready sacrifice himself…as he had proved in the fire to save Anila.

  As Zain did to save me…out of weakness.

  If not for Zain’s weakness, Purdil would be dead, he knew.

  He could not hear what the two said to each other, but it was obvious the Collie was nervous, afraid to proceed. Ultimately, they continued and passed close by where Purdil lay in hiding.

  He should have listened to her, the Gull Dong thought ruefully. Now it’s too late for them…too late for all of us.

  The lure was rather a good likeness of Yoda, at least from a distance, with the wind fluttering the grasses and Anila partially blocking it Soon, however, the deception would become apparent, even to those who really wanted to see Yoda waiting to be rescued. By then, however, the die would be cast and there would be nothing left to do except play out the fated endgame.

  It was a game that could end only one way.

  * * *

  Baron and Sally came to the curve in the road, made their way past the barriers intended to keep cars off the abandoned peninsula. Anila waited, Yoda still at her side, as he had been since they first saw them from the road. It was hard to tell in the sunless pre-dawn, but it appeared Yoda had not moved. His wild hair stirred in the breeze off the bay, but he had not otherwise shifted a single inch.

  Baron frowned. He could understand that Yoda was scared, that Anila held him captive through threat of violence, but he should have made some movement. Anila could keep him from running away, but no one can keep a Pom motionless.

  “Wait here, Sally,” Baron said.

  “No, we’ve already…”

  “Something is wrong,” he said tersely. “I don’t know if that is Yoda standing next to her.”

  The Collie tilted her head. What was Baron talking about? She could see the little Pomeranian waiting for them. If not Yoda, then who could it be?

  “Anila,” Baron shouted. “Send Yoda toward us and I’ll walk toward you.”

  “Your little friend is not going anywhere till I finally have you, Iblis,” Anila replied. “Too long you have evaded justice. I’ll not let you dishonor me again.”

  “Yoda!” Baron yelled.

  The little dog gave no indication of hearing.

  “Meet your fate, Iblis,” Anila taunted. “Stop being a coward. Do not let your friend die for your sins.”

  “I want to know Yoda is okay,” Baron insisted. “Send him out and you can have me. This is between me and you, Anila. It has nothing to do with Yoda! He is innocent of anything.”<
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  As Baron spoke, his frustration and concern caused him to take several steps toward Anila and Yoda. Suddenly he stopped, lowered his head and peered at the dark mass beside Anila.

  His hearing was better than average, and his sense of smell was keen enough to detect buried explosive devices and hidden enemies, but he excelled in sight. Many times during his tour in Afghanistan, he had suddenly knocked companions aside, alerted by the glint off a scope nearly a mile away, or actually seeing a bullet in flight.

  Now, his eyes served him well again, the reality of observation triumphing over perception empowered by hope. No longer did he see a wild-haired Pomeranian waiting to be rescued, but a crude pile of black rocks adorned by dark grasses and weeds. Though enraged by the vile deception, he felt his heart leap within him. If Yoda was not here, had never been here, then there was every reason to believe that Levi, with his miraculous sniffer and keen powers of deduction, had been right all along. And even if Levi and the others had not yet found Yoda, there was now no reason to continue with this charade. It was time to leave.

  As Baron backed off from the trap, Anila lifted her head and uttered a series of sharp staccato sounds, the strange hunting cry peculiar to the dogs of Afghanistan. The signal froze Baron for only a moment, but it was long enough for Purdil to burst from hiding and race toward Sally.

  Baron heard Purdil’s frenzied approach, turned and yelled a warning, but the Gull Dong was almost upon the Collie. Sally had cringed at Anila’s savage cry, been distracted from the danger, and by the time she understood the reason for Baron’s alarm, the dog was already upon her.

  Although Sally was an Army working dog, like Baron, the path followed by a therapy dog was very much different than that of a war dog. While both vocations tapped into a dog’s natural senses of compassion and self-sacrifice, the training itself was poles apart. Where Baron learned stealth and defense, Sally learned openness and affection. However, a dog is a dog, and there are things about a dog, certain primal reactions to moments of danger, that override not just training, but even the ingrained teachings of First Dog and Anubis. When Sally saw Purdil almost upon her, she instinctively hunkered down, bared her teeth, and uttered a savage growl such as had never before escaped her mouth.