by Jean Gill
I’d hardly had the thought when my Master was towering above me. I opened both eyes and glared at him as if he were Fredo. ‘No,’ I barked at him. And then his huge hand descended hard on my rump. I laughed at him. ‘Didn’t feel a thing,’ I told him, ‘too used to it and too big now.’ Then he welted my face with a sideways swipe of his hand and I automatically snapped in the air. ‘That does it,’ he shouted . ‘We start here and we’ll finish this at home.’ The spiked collar was back on my neck and even though I didn’t move, Denis deliberately jerked it so the points dug into my neck. I’d forgotten the pain, having avoided it for so long and by the third jerk I was on my feet, desperately trying to keep to Denis’s angry pace so as to avoid any more torture.
He hauled me into the house and turned on me as soon as we were inside in the basement. He took off my collar and lead. Thank Dog, I thought. He told me to lie down. I obeyed but I kept my eyes fixed on his, defying him. Then he kicked me, a sharp pain in the ribs. I snapped in the air at his boot. ‘You asked for it,’ he shouted and he hit me with the lead and the chain, on and on, till I screamed and rolled on my back. He had won! I was scared of him. I worshipped him. I wanted to be like him.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Nina, standing white-faced in the doorway with little Boris, held close to her.
‘He needed a lesson and I’ve given him one. You’ll find he won’t give us any trouble from now on. Look at him.’ I lay on my back, wagging my tail, trying not to put pressure on the parts that had been whipped.
‘Did you hit him, Daddy?’ Boris asked, tearful and huddling close to his mother.
‘Yes, son. You have to be cruel to be kind, with a dog, especially with a big dog like this. When you’re a man, you’ll understand.’
‘I don’t want to be a man,’ Boris whispered. His father didn’t hear him but I did. Nina said nothing, just held her son closer, as she turned him to walk away, leaving us in the basement.
From that day on, I obeyed my master’s every word, quickly. I gave Nina my paw whenever she asked but there was a lack of warmth in her voice when she said, ‘Good dog’ so the action seemed mechanical now. Denis told Nina to put me through my paces so he would be happy to go away on business and leave me with her. ‘He’s a good guard dog so there’s no chance of a burglar getting past this one. I don’t think a fly with evil intentions would get past him.’ Nina smiled weakly. ‘But I want you to feel confident that you can control him so these are the commands...’ And with Denis giving orders to both of us, Nina and I carried out a very efficient Sit, Stay, Come and of course, Give Me a Paw. I thought about Fredo. I could feel the day of reckoning coming nearer.
‘I’ll phone when I get there. Take care,’ Denis told Nina and kissed her goodbye. He had a big bag with him and he smelled different from when he usually went to work, cleaner, more excited.
Nina took me for a walk, a short one because we had Boris and Cath with us and they grew tired quickly. Nina didn’t let me off the lead but she didn’t pull on me and I didn’t call up the pain in the points. She didn’t talk to me and I felt lonely for my Master. He didn’t come back at the usual time and eventually I gave up waiting at the window for him. I lay down where I could watch Nina and wait for my Master. I couldn’t see Fredo so I didn’t think about him. Bedtime was such a fixed routine now that I wasn’t even aware of Fredo’s existence unless he chose to point it out to me, which he wasn’t stupid enough to do. Morning came, no Master. Walk with Nina and the children as far as the school, which was stimulating for my ears, but I was too well-Educated to move one white hair away from my Nina’s side. She wasn’t my Master but she held my lead and my Master had put her in charge.
I was left in the garden to amuse myself. I chased some noises outside on the street and barked them away. Through the gate, I attacked the woman in the yellow van, who drove up every day, invading my territory with her hand in a box too high for me to reach – more’s the pity. I always won and she drove off as fast as if a giant patou were still at her heels. Then I saw Fredo, lying openly in the garden – MY garden – chewing a root. I sniffed; manure, beetle, celery... it was an interesting root and I was having it. I raced up to Fredo, who was so absorbed in chewing his root that he didn’t notice me coming and I barked, ‘Give it to me.’ He had nowhere to hide and he stood to his full height, about my knee, looked me right in the eye and barked, ‘NO!’
It was exactly as it had been with me and Denis, so I followed his example. I leaped into action with some well-judged bites and then demanded submission from the pint-sized irritation. Nina had run into the garden shouting and flicking a teatowel that marginally distracted us, enough that I snapped at the teatowel and unfortunately pierced not only the household linen but Nina’s hand holding it. She screamed and held her hand up to suck the blood already flowing, and she backed away from us, which helped me a lot. I really didn’t want to confuse Denis by getting Nina involved in male combat. This was purely between me and him. Fredo’s eyes showed fear and pain but were still trying to focus on mine as he barked ‘In your dreams, cuddly toy!’ So I ripped his throat out.
I walked over to Nina and explained to her that there was no other option but she was shaking and beyond reason. She ran into the house and I could see her using the telephone, so I settled down to rest, at the other end of the garden from Fredo’s body. I don’t like the smell of death. Fighting tires me and I felt like a sleep but I’d hardly closed my eyes when a van arrived. Of course I barked at all the strangers but I wasn’t really in the mood for serious guard duty so, because Nina told me to go, and used the command words, I let them put me in the van and bring me here. I won’t be here for long. When Denis gets back home, he’ll explain everything to Nina and come and get me.’
Stratos hurled his belief to the stars, ‘My Master will come!’
‘His master will come!’ we howled.
‘Denis will come,’ Stratos bayed.
‘Oh my brother,’ I whimpered, ‘What have you done?’
Chapter 14.
If you immerse yourself totally in now, in the present, it is infinite and I lived in the now of my brother’s presence. After Storytime, under the stars, we shared our memories of the past, our hopes for the future. We argued about what makes a good master. ‘Weak,’ he called Marc; ‘vicious’, I responded, about Denis. ‘He will come and then you will see a good master,’ we told each other. ‘If you had been there when he caressed me and told me I was beautiful, you’d understand,’ we agreed.
‘Why have they put me in this cage on my own?’ Stratos asked me.
‘They are afraid you’ll hurt other dogs.’
‘But why?’ My brother’s bewilderment was genuine. I told you he wasn’t always the brightest bunny in the cabbage patch.
‘Your last room-mate is a corpse,’ I reminded him.
The chain-link clattered as he hurled himself against it in frustration. ‘Only because he didn’t submit. Any dog that behaves as he should would be safe in my pack.’ And again the fence hurled its metallic clink as eighty kilogrammes of patou shoulder-charged it in full throat. ‘Why,’ he roared across the compounds, ‘why are they afraid of me? It’s not fair!’ I felt it more tactful to take the question as rhetorical. Some questions are better left unanswered.
‘And you little brother,’ he asked, more calmly, ‘are you afraid of me?’
I searched deep. What sort of dog was I? I had looked away from Jack’s gaze right from the start and I was content with my place. It was a hard task to be leader, a heavy responsibility. I searched deep and in my heart, I found Jack’s guard over Éclair as she became madder each day, I found the daily order in our pen of eating and sleeping together, our survival together holding onto our beliefs with the death-grip that Stratos had used on Fredo, a terrier like Jack. I tried to imagine myself in combat with Jack but found no sense to it. Instead, I imagined Stratos charging me, not the pup I had known but this full-grown male, bigger than me – I could tell from his voice
as much as guess from his puppyhood promise – charging at me with killing fury. Was I scared of him?
‘I am scared of what you could do to me,’ I answered honestly.
‘As you should be,’ the roar came back.
‘But I am not scared of you,’ I continued, louder.
‘Why not?’ his voice was low with menace. I swear I could see his eyes glowing with night-vision and wolf-anger.
‘You are strong and brave, big brother, and you always play by the rules, I am not afraid of you because I understand the rules. You wouldn’t take my throat because there is no need; I offer it to you. I would be in your pack’
‘Ah, Sirius.’ The voice purred at me, laced with fatigue. ‘You always rolled so well, taught me to hold back, made me want to be a leader who spreads peace where he walks. You will be uncle to my puppies. With you, I could share even this hell-hole. We could lie shoulder to shoulder against the world.’ I wouldn’t go quite so far in my confidence – I preferred to sleep peacefully without wondering if someone else’s bad dream would tear a chunk out of my body – but I wasn’t going to be tested on my answer, so I replied, ‘Shoulder to shoulder!’ I like to think my brother slept more peacefully that night for being less alone. Perhaps he dreamed of his pack and puppy-making. No dog can be alone without going crazy. And I don’t mean physically. I mean alone in his heart, no pack, no master.
I don’t know how many starry nights we talked, my brother and I, so different but connected beneath the fur, for always. However many nights we had, they were not enough. But I understand now, that, with someone you love, there are never enough nights together, nor enough days.
And for someone in excruciating pain, like Éclair, there are always too many days and far too many nights, all long beyond bearing, with sleep a mere flitting relief, desperately sought. Jack was worn down by his vigil and had himself fallen into a deep sleep, from which he didn’t wake even when Sourface turned up with food. Not even when Sourface went over towards him and Éclair and reached out towards the whippet, saying quite gently, ‘You’ve not been eating – come and get some food.’
Too late, I saw the danger and barked, ‘Don’t touch her ear!’ The others joined me in warning Sourface, Jack woke and jumped to his feet but he was too late. Sourface had merely laid her hand softly on the side of Éclair’s head and the poor bitch erupted with pain, jerking her head round to sink her teeth hard into the arm that had increased her already unbearable pain. ‘No!’ barked Jack, standing between Éclair and Sourface, whose face was white and set, her mouth a thin line. ‘I should know better,’ she said as she backed away. ‘Show just a little kindness and that’s what you get for it. Well that’s it for you, my girl.’ She looked around, assessing the seven of us coldly, and nodded. ‘The vet’s coming tomorrow.’
‘What does she mean, Jack?’ Prince asked.
Jack sighed. ‘At last, she’s noticed. The vet will treat Éclair and save her. We’ll have our own sweet friend back with us in a few days.’
‘She didn’t sound kind,’ I pointed out.
‘Obviously she’s not pleased at being bitten but now she’s seen why, she’ll get the vet to help.’
Looking at Éclair, foaming and muttering to herself, bashing her ear against the fence, scratching deeper into the gash she had made above her shoulder, unable to reach the ear itself, I wondered if a vet could really restore the friend we’d known. Jack said so, I told myself. I hoped Marc would come soon. And even Denis was better than this.
At morning food-time, Sourface was wearing a bandage on her arm. ‘You,’ she told me, ‘you’ve had a bit of luck. Your Breeder’s coming for you. I don’t get the idea she’s very pleased about it but she’s coming to get you anyway.’ The Princess, I thought. She got me out. But I felt like I’d swallowed stones that wouldn’t pass. How would Marc find me? And why had Elodie herself stopped coming to see me? My head churned as I tried to take in the news. Soum de Gaia Human was coming. Then at least Stratos and I would be together again.
‘And as for you,’ Sourface threw the words at Éclair, without moving any closer to her. The vet’s coming later this morning, so eat or not, as you like.’ Then the door to the pen clanged shut and we dropped back into somnolence, stomachs grumbling on short rations but sustained enough to get through another daylight.
When the sun was high, Bigwoman and Sourface both came back, with two leads and two conical shapes with straps. ‘Vicious ones first,’ Bigwoman instructed. ‘You muzzle the bulldog and I’ll take the whippet’ and while we watched, confused, one conical shape was whisked onto Maisie’s face and the other onto Éclair, who jumped and tried to snap at the pressure on her face, her jaw constrained by the muzzle. Maisie was struggling to breathe, her squashed bulldog nose dribbling behind the muzzle. They were leashed and quickly led out of the pen, Jack racing to the door to gaze after them.
‘Maisie doesn’t need the vet. Something’s wrong,’ Jack was growling when a wave of voices broke, like the chorus of storytelling but this time my hackles rose as I heard their cry, one I hope never to hear again as long as I live.
‘Dead dogs walking!’ the howl of a hundred dogs, yaps, bays, barks and yelps crowded the air and over it, the one voice we had heard so often calling us to begin, the tale. ‘No,’ howled Jack. ‘Maisie, Éclair!’ and as in our storytelling, every voice hushed. But this time the silence smelled of death and we couldn’t fight it with stories.
Painfully, a breathless, muffled voice wafted back to us. ‘I should have bitten more children while I could. Don’t pine for me, brothers and sisters,’ and though the last words were just a whisper on the breeze, we heard, ‘Nearly over now Éclair, no more pain, never. Keep walking.’
Jack was stock-still, the very portrait of a terrier pointing, quivering at the game he wasn’t allowed to touch. Then he hurled back his head and led the farewell. A hundred voices picked up the echo, ‘Good hunting, little sisters.’ And I remembered Snow and Stella.
‘What sort of Choosing is this?’ I asked Jack, my tail limp between my legs, my ears low with fear.
‘The Final Choosing,’ he told me, shaking, his face the mirror of my own. ‘We all get Chosen in the end.’ And then we saw Bigwoman and Sourface walking back in our direction with one lead. No muzzle this time. The pens were silent as the women stopped, looking in each one as they passed.
‘It’s a pity,’ Sourface said. ‘He’s no trouble at all.’
‘We’ve already discussed it all,’ Bigwoman replied, nails in her voice. ‘We’ve got six new dogs to place and we’ve just got to make room. I know it’s hard but there’s no place for sentiment and we’ve made our choice. Even now we’ve had permission from Denis Larime to put down that monster of his, we will only just have enough room. At least that will give us the single pen back, which is useful. Nice man, Monsieur Larime. He blames himself you know, for leaving his wife with a dog too big for her to handle. Says she’s always been too soft with the brute and he should have guessed she couldn’t cope.’ They were in the pen now. ‘Anyway, this one’s got to go. He’s just too old. You know he’ll never find a home. Prince, here boy.’ Prince bounded over to Bigwoman and let her put the lead on him, his eyes the same pools of friendship that had first touched me lightly in greeting. The stones filling my guts had blocked my throat and I couldn’t speak.
Prince paused before the door and jumped to lick my nose. ‘You’ll be all right, big boy.’ Then he turned to me, Jack, Melba and Clementine and shook his head as if a tree had unloaded a shower of raindrops on him. ‘Don’t pine for me, either,’ he barked, ‘My family is waiting for me. Nothing can part us any more. What is to be will be.’
‘Come on,’ Bigwoman pulled him impatiently, ‘walk.’ Without another backward look, Prince walked out.
Jack squared his shoulders and once more the terrible chorus started up for Prince as he passed in front of one pen after another until we heard footsteps on the gravel path in front of the centre building and the
n we howled our last farewell before we heard the centre door open and click shut.
Then we waited.
‘Is it over?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ was all Jack could tell me. We waited eternity. Not one dog panted. Not one dog scratched. We would have heard it if he had. But what we heard was the sound of a hundred dogs listening. You Humans don’t understand listening but even you can hear it, without realising. If you’re concentrating, you know the exact moment when you have lost someone’s attention, don’t you? That’s because the sound of listening has gone. It is a tension in the airwaves, an invisible connection between the listener and what he is listening for or to. Our listening that day was so powerful you could have snapped it with your paw and seen it break. But no dog broke it. What broke it was the sound of the centre door, of footsteps, stopping outside a pen and then there was a cry more terrible than the ones I’d already heard.
‘Sirius!’ My brother’s roar exploded my heart full of rocks into a furnace. I hurled myself against the walls, against the door, willing them to break before my bones did but I couldn’t reach him. The sounds of snarling, snapping teeth and shouting told me that Stratos was putting up a fight but his muffled voice told us all we needed to know. ‘When Denis comes, tell him I waited for him. Tell him I’m a good dog. Don’t let them lie about me!’ His voice was frantic even through the muzzle.
‘I will tell Denis!’ I howled and Jack, with a glance at me, turned it into the chorus, taken up by a hundred voices. ‘We will tell Denis,’ promised the pack and then ‘Dead dog walking!’ started up all from all the pens.
