by André Alexis
As Bella and Athena lay beside each other on the verge of sleep, Athena said
– These males fight for any reason.
– It has nothing to do with us, said Bella.
That was the end of the matter, as far as they were concerned, and the two were soon asleep, Athena growling quietly at a squirrel that, in her dream, was much smaller than she and deliberately annoying besides.
Two evenings after the fracas, Atticus spoke to Majnoun.
Autumn had come. The leaves were changing colour. Night itself seemed darker, for being more cool. The pack had settled into a routine: scavenging, avoiding humans, hunting rats and squirrels. The coppice provided shelter from rainfall and storms. So, although they had meant it to be a temporary dwelling, a place from which they could consider what had happened to them, the coppice had become a home, and it was increasingly difficult to imagine leaving it.
Majnoun had been expecting some sort of approach from Frick, Frack, Max or Atticus. He had expected one of them to bring up the matter of leadership. The pack had done without a leader for some time, an unnatural situation. And although he himself did not want to lead, it would have been an insult for the others to foist Atticus – the likeliest candidate – on the pack without seeking his (that is, Majnoun’s) opinion first. In the old days, they would have fought about it, no doubt. But after the change that had come over them, a physical contest no longer seemed, to Majnoun at least, the best way to resolve a matter as complicated as leadership.
(How odd the change was! One day, while listening to humans address their pet, Majnoun experienced a curious thing. It was as if the sun had, in an instant, burned off a thick morning fog. He understood what the humans were saying! It wasn’t just some of their words he understood – words he’d heard a thousand times himself. He believed he understood the thought behind them. As far as Majnoun knew, no dog had ever understood a human as he had at that moment. He wasn’t sure if he were cursed or blessed, but this new thing – this understanding – surely demanded a change in behaviour, something to help them deal with the unabated strangeness of the new world.)
Majnoun and Atticus walked out of the coppice together and into the park. The sky was filled with stars. The lights of the Queensway were off to the south. All was quiet, save for the endless noise of the crickets, it not being cold enough to silence them.
– What are we to do? asked Atticus.
The question was a surprise.
– About what? answered Majnoun.
– I have asked the wrong question, said Atticus. I mean, how are we to live, now that we are strangers to our own kind?
– They are right to be afraid of us, said Majnoun. We no longer think like they do.
– But we feel like they feel, don’t we? I remember what I was before that night. I am not so different.
– I did not know you before, said Majnoun, but I know you now and now you are different.
– Some of us, said Atticus, believe the best way is to ignore the new thinking and stop using the new words.
– How can you silence the words inside?
– No one can silence the words inside, but you can ignore them. We can go back to the old way of being. This new thinking leads away from the pack, but a dog is no dog if he does not belong.
– I do not agree, said Majnoun. We have this new way. It has been given to us. Why should we not use it? Maybe there is a reason for our difference.
– I remember, said Atticus, how it was to run with our kind. But you, you want to think and keep thinking and then think again. What is the good of so much thinking? I am like you. I can take pleasure in it, but it brings us no true advantage. It keeps us from being dogs and it keeps us from what is right.
– We know things other dogs do not. Can we not teach them?
– No, said Atticus. Now it is for them to teach us. We must learn to be dogs again.
– Dog, why do you want my thoughts on these things? Do you wish to lead?
– Would you challenge me?
– No, said Majnoun.
The dogs sat together awhile, listening to the sounds of night. In the park, the world was teeming with unseen life. Above them was a vastness as new and haunting as it was ancient. Neither of them had ever paid much attention to stars and the night sky. Now they could not help wondering about it.
– I wonder if the dog who speaks strangely is right, said Atticus. Does the sky really have no end?
– The dog thinks beautifully, said Majnoun, but he knows no more than we do.
– Do you think we will ever know?
Majnoun struggled with the question and struggled with the thoughts within him. All sometimes seemed so hopelessly muddled. He wondered if Atticus wasn’t right, in the end. Perhaps it was best to be a dog as dogs had always been: not separated from others by thinking but part of the collective. Perhaps anything else was futile or, worse, an illusion to take you away from the good. But although their new way of thinking was bothersome – a torment at times – it was now an aspect of them. Why should they turn their backs on themselves?
– Someday, said Majnoun, we may know where the sky ends.
– Yes, said Atticus, someday or someday not.
Majnoun’s instincts were sound. He’d anticipated a tête-à-tête about leadership and, although Atticus had kept the discussion vague, it had been about power. Majnoun, however, had not caught all the nuances. Atticus was not interested in whether or not Majnoun would challenge him for leadership. Atticus was bigger than Majnoun and, besides, he had Frick, Frack, Max and Rosie on his side. What Atticus had really wanted to discover was whether Majnoun belonged with the pack, given the direction that he, Atticus, had chosen for it. Majnoun, unawares, had given Atticus all the information he needed.
The following day, when they were meant to be out scavenging, Frack, Frick, Max and Atticus met by the lake on the far side of the Humber Bay Arch Bridge, away from the others, away from dogs without leashes.
– I have spoken with all the others, said Atticus. To live as we were meant to live, there must be change. Some may stay. Some must not.
– What about the black dog? asked Frack.
– He is not one of us, answered Atticus. He will have to be exiled.
– It would be better to kill him, said Max.
– You only think so because he mounted you, said Frick.
– No, said Atticus, the dog is right. The black one will not be easy to send away. Some of the others are already faithful to him. I do not wish to kill him, but it would be difficult if he stayed.
– What about the bitch with the high vagina? asked Max.
– She favours the black dog and she is too strong, said Atticus. We will have to lose her.
– Let her take the tiny bitch with her, said Max.
– What about rules? asked Frack.
– There will be two, answered Atticus. No language but proper dog language, and no ways but dog ways. We will live like we were meant to.
– Without masters? asked Frick.
– We will have no masters, said Atticus. Dogs without masters are the only true dogs. There are three who will have to go: the big bitch, the black dog and the one who uses words in strange ways. Once they have gone, we can live as we are meant to.
– Are you going to challenge the black dog? asked Max.
– No, said Atticus. We must get rid of all three at once. We will be quick and do what has to be done, before the rest of the dogs can choose sides or make matters difficult.
– When? asked Frick.
– Tonight, said Atticus.
And although it was not doglike of them, they worked their strategy out to the least detail, the least detail being what they would do if their efforts failed.
Prince had spoken another poem
The light that moves is not the light.
The light that stays is not the light.
The true light rose countless sleeps ago.
It rose, even in
the mouth of birds.
and Max had wanted to kill him on the spot.
After the dogs had reflected on what they’d heard, most had gone to their beddings in the den and had fallen straight to sleep, as if lulled by Prince’s words. Not Atticus, however. Atticus had invited Majnoun out into the park for another conversation. Then, when the den was quiet save for the small sounds of breathing, Frick and Frack rose from their places. Frick noiselessly padded to where Bella and Athena slept, took up Athena’s compact body in his jaws, bit down hard, and made off with her. Despite Athena’s strangled shriek, none of the other dogs woke.
After a time, Frack woke Bella, nudging her head with his snout.
– They have taken the small bitch, he said.
Bella rose slowly from sleep, but when she saw Athena was gone she was immediately alert and understood Frack’s words.
– Where have they taken her? she asked.
– I do not know. My brother has gone after them. I will take you where they went.
Where he took her – where they ran – was to a street beside the park: Bloor. The street was on a hill and, though it was night, it was rhythmically busy. That is, groups of cars came fast down the hill and then nothing and then fast cars again. Toward the middle of the incline, on the sidewalk, Frick stood in the light of a street lamp. He was looking at something on the other side of the road.
As Bella and Frack approached, he said
– There she is. Can you see her? She is under the light.
Bella could not see clearly, but there did appear to be something beneath the street lamp on the other side of the road. It was an intimidating road, but, where Athena was concerned, Bella was not cautious. She would have done anything for this, the one being on earth to whom she was devoted. In fact, she would have run across the street at once, had Frack not said
– Wait! My brother will go to the top of the hill and bark when the light has changed and it is safe to cross.
Bella waited anxiously, jumping up and down, trying desperately to see Athena on the other side of the road.
– Go now, said Frack, it is safe.
But, of course, it was not safe. Frick’s timing was impeccable. Bella was not a quarter of the way across the road before she was struck and killed by a taxi.
In a word, the murders of Bella and Athena were flawlessly done.
Being certain that Bella was dead, her body unmoving as the humans in the street raised their voices, Frick and Frack returned to the den where, it had been agreed, they and Max would finish Prince off before joining Atticus in killing Majnoun.
There should not have been any complications. Max was to have kept watch on Prince. And this he had done, though he could barely keep himself from biting the mangy mutt that had caused his humiliation. Max had (little by little and quietly) moved close to Prince, lying down near enough to hear Prince’s occasional snorts and whimpers. It was not possible that Prince should have gotten away from them. And yet, when Frack and Frick slunk quietly back to the den and, joined by Max, readied themselves to finish Prince off as quickly as possible, they discovered that what they’d taken to be Prince’s body was no more than a pile of human clothes. Max was beside himself with outrage. It was not possible for Prince to have escaped! He had listened for every breath, happy to know they would be among the dog’s last! The three made the rounds of the den, going to where each dog lay, sniffing for Prince’s smell, but Prince was nowhere to be found.
And yet, Prince was there among them.
The deaths of Bella and Athena, though straightforward as murders go, were problematic for the gods. Hermes and Apollo looked down on Athena’s lifeless body (Frick had broken her neck as easily as if it had been a rat’s) and on Bella’s body where it had landed in the middle of the street.
– They died happy, said Hermes. I win.
– You do not win, said his brother. The small one was terrified and the large one was distressed for her friend. They died unhappy.
– You’re not being fair, said Hermes. I grant you their final moments weren’t pleasant. But before they were killed, neither had known such friendship as they experienced together. They were happy despite the intelligence they were given.
– I agree with you, Apollo said, but what can I do? You were the one who insisted the crucial moment was death. We agreed that if even one of these creatures dies happy, you win. At the moment of their deaths, these two were not happy. So, you haven’t won a thing. But, look, Hermes, I don’t want to hear about how I cheated you and I don’t want you going to Father. So, I’ve got a proposition for you: because your bet’s not as strong as mine, I’ll let you intervene in the lives of these creatures. Once. Only once. You can do whatever you like. But if you intervene, the bet’s doubled. It’s two human years of servitude to the loser.
– And you won’t intervene yourself?
– Why should I intervene? asked Apollo. These creatures are more miserable than I could possibly make them. They’re not going to cheer up when they die. But if it makes you feel better, I give you my word: I will not intervene directly.
– Then I accept, said Hermes.
And so, while Frick and Frack were returning from dealing with Bella and Athena, Prince had a very strange dream. It began pleasantly enough. He dreamed he was in his first master’s house in Ralston, Alberta, a house in which his own scent dominated, a house over which his toys were spread in a secret pattern, a house of which he knew every cranny. He was on his way to the kitchen, drawn by the sound of mice scurrying over the wooden floor, when a dog he did not know entered his dream. The strange dog was jet black, save for a patch of vivid blue on its chest.
– You are in danger, the dog said.
The dog spoke Prince’s language flawlessly, with no accent.
– How beautifully you speak, said Prince. Who are you?
– You would find my name difficult to say, said the dog, but I am Hermes and I am not of your species. I am a master of masters and I do not wish you to die here.
– Where? asked Prince.
And all of a sudden he was far from the home of his childhood. He was in High Park looking down on himself as he slept in the den with the others. He saw, because Hermes pointed it out, that Max was lying near him. He saw Frick and Frack return to the den. He noticed, because Hermes wished him to, the place where Bella and Athena had slept.
– Where is the tall female? he asked.
– They have killed her, said Hermes. They will kill you, too, if you stay.
– What have I done? asked Prince. I have not challenged anyone.
– They dislike how you speak, said Hermes. If you wish to live, your only choice is exile.
– But what am I without those who understand me?
– Would you choose words over life? asked Hermes. Consider that, if you die, your way of speaking dies with you. You must wake up, now, Prince. While I am here, no one can see or hear you, but you haven’t much time. Come.
There then followed the strangest interlude in Prince’s life. He did not know if he were awake or dreaming, but the strange dog had spoken his secret name, the name his first master used: Prince. Rising up from the den in his dreams, he was yet with Hermes watching himself rise. He saw Frack, Frick and Max as they went about looking for him. They passed in front of him, beside him, almost through him. He could barely resist barking to let them know he was there, as if it were all a game. But he did not bark. He followed Hermes out of the den and into High Park proper. There, he was suddenly, fully awake and Hermes was gone.
It occurred to Prince that he was still dreaming. He thought to look in on himself, just to see if he were still asleep in the coppice, his favourite chewing shoe beside him. But as he walked back toward the den, Max, Frick and Frack ran out. Prince immediately crouched down, his ears back, his tail tucked hard behind him. The dogs did not see him. They ran off, but they radiated menace as they went. Prince had no doubt that, dream or not, Hermes had told the truth. The
three were murderous. When he was certain they would not see him, he fled, his exile beginning in panic, fear and darkness.
The three who ran out of the coppice ran out to find Atticus. They had agreed that they should all attack Majnoun together. Frustrated by Prince’s mysterious disappearance, Max, Frick and Frack now wanted nothing more than to bite the black dog to death. They ran toward the pond, where Atticus said they would find him, as if running to mount a bitch in heat.
For Atticus, the time spent with Majnoun was unpleasant. It was unpleasant because he understood Majnoun and was sorry the dog had to go. In other circumstances, he might have welcomed Majnoun to the pack, but things were as they were. Atticus spent much of the time surreptitiously justifying what he knew was to come: a pack needed unity, and unity meant that all understood the world in the same way or, if not the world, the rules, at least. Majnoun was one who embraced the new way of thinking, the new language. The dog did not belong.
– Black dog, said Atticus, can there be a feeling greater than belonging?
– No, said Majnoun.
– And yet, said Atticus, I am sometimes afraid that I will not know the feeling again, that I will never again know what it is to be a dog among dogs. This thinking of yours, black dog, it is an endless, dead field. Since the change, I have been alone with thoughts I do not want.
– I understand, said Majnoun. It is the same for me. But we must bear it, because we cannot escape the things within.
– I do not agree, said Atticus. To be with others is to be free from yourself. There is no other path. We must go back to the old ways.
– If we can find them, said Majnoun.
It was at this point that Frack, Frick and Max came upon them. Max said
