Waggit Forever

by Peter Howe

  They soon approached a vacant lot between two houses. A chain-link fence sealed off the empty space, and the lower part of the enclosure was covered in frayed black tarpaulin. The two dogs had almost passed the lot when they heard a soft “Yip.” They turned around but couldn’t see where the voice was coming from. Then they noticed that one corner of the fence had been bent back, and through it they could barely make out the figure of a dog on the other side.

  “Hey, you!” he cried.

  “Us?” asked Waggit.

  “Yeah, you,” said the dog. “Are you Wiggy and Liedown?”

  “Close enough”—Lowdown chuckled—“don’t you think, Wiggy?”

  But “Wiggy” was being serious.

  “Who wants to know?” he asked.

  “S’okay,” said the other dog, “I’m your receptor. They told me to look out for you.”

  “You’re our what?” asked Waggit.

  “Your receptor,” said the dog. “I’m in charge here.”

  “In charge of what?” Waggit was still confused.

  “The haven. You’ve arrived. Come and join the others.”

  The dog used his stocky body to push the fence aside, and Lowdown and Waggit cautiously went through the gap he made. Waggit was worried that this might be a trap. Lowdown was too tired and in too much pain to worry about anything. Once they were on the other side of the fence, they looked around and were depressed by what they saw. The area was strewn with trash and large boxes that had once contained appliances. Weeds grew everywhere, and the whole place smelled of decay. For two dogs used to the fresh smells of the park, this was the city at its worst.

  “This is it?” asked Waggit in disgust. “This is the haven?”

  “Yup,” said the receptor proudly. “Neat, ain’t it? You’d never know it was here, would you?”

  “But nothing’s here,” said Waggit. “Just a load of old boxes.”

  “Ah, that’s the point,” said the receptor. “Come on in.”

  He then led them to the far corner of the lot, where the walls of two adjacent buildings came together. A pile of the boxes lay against them, and the receptor disappeared through the open end of one. Waggit and Lowdown followed. What they saw next was a surprise, to say the least. From the outside what looked like many cartons was in fact one large space when you went in. They had been artfully positioned together, with pieces chewed out of their sides to create an area just large enough to hide five Tazarians and two Ductors, all of whom were sleeping.

  9

  Lowdown’s Limo

  Magica was the first to wake up.

  “Waggit. Thank Vinda you’re both safe!”

  “Is everyone else okay?” Waggit inquired.

  “Oh yes,” she replied, “we’re all fine, especially now you two are back. It’s not great here, but it will do for now.”

  “Not great” was Magica’s way of dealing with a situation that was close to intolerable. The dogs lay packed together in the tight space, where the heat was stifling and the smell overpowering.

  “How’s Lowdown?” she whispered.

  “Not in good shape,” Waggit replied. “He’s in a lot of pain, and I don’t think he’ll make it all the way unless we do something.”

  “What can we do?” she asked.

  “I haven’t a clue at the moment,” Waggit said.

  Gordo rolled over, causing Little Two to growl as the large dog’s body squashed him. Gordo opened one bleary eye.

  “Waggit! Hi!” he said. “Where’s Lowdown?”

  “Right next to you, and already in the land of dreams.”

  Exhausted by the journey and his discomfort, the old dog had curled up in what little space was left and fallen asleep instantly. Waggit decided to join him, even though his own rear end was sticking partway out of the box. The receptor, whose name nobody seemed to know, kept watch outside.

  Waggit woke up several hours later, cramped and hot. Apparently he wasn’t the only dog feeling that way—the sound of panting tongues was almost deafening. It wasn’t dark yet, but soon would be. The sounds of the summer evening filled the still, moist air. People were sitting on balconies and fire escapes, or congregating in the street beyond the wire fence. Loud music and the smell of barbecue drifted into the boxes where the dogs lay hidden.

  “Why are we all still in here?” asked Waggit. “Why don’t we go outside, where it must be cooler?”

  “Because Cicero and Pilodus told us not to,” replied the ever-obedient Gordo.

  “Did they say why?” Waggit asked impatiently.

  “They said that some of the Uprights who live in the buildings can look into this area, and if they saw all of us milling around here, they would get the Ruzelas,” Magica explained. “They said it would be better if we wait until it’s completely dark before coming out.”

  “And this rule doesn’t apply to them? We have to do as they say, like always,” growled Waggit grumpily. Neither Ductor was around.

  “No,” said Alona, “they went off to their stash to get some food for us. I hope they’re okay. It’s pretty risky out in the open at this time of the darkening, ’specially if you’re dragging back food.”

  When he listened to Alona, Waggit realized two things—first how hungry he was and second how ashamed he was of his outburst. He decided that one must have caused the other, but even so, he was embarrassed at having reacted so immaturely.

  “I wish they’d hurry up,” Little One chimed in. “I’m starving.”

  Waggit turned around and cautiously stuck his head out of the box. He looked around for the receptor but couldn’t see him at first. Then there was a movement in a clump of ragweed close to the boxes.

  “You’re awake, I see” came the voice of the receptor. “How did you sleep?”

  “Uncomfortably,” replied Waggit, “but well enough under the circumstances.”

  “I apologize,” said the receptor. “The trouble is that when we built this haven, we never thought we’d have to house so many dogs. We thought one or two would be the most at any one time.”

  “I understand,” said Waggit. “It’s good of you to help us in this way.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” said the receptor. “I honestly don’t know why we do it sometimes. We hardly ever get any thanks. Still, it passes the time, I suppose. Better than just hanging around getting on each other’s nerves.”

  “Where are Cicero and Pilodus?” asked Waggit.

  “They’ll be back soon,” replied the receptor. “They’ve already made two runs to the stash, and they still had to go back for more. That’s another thing we never thought we’d have to do—feed so many dogs.”

  The longer the conversation went on, the worse Waggit felt. It also occurred to him that if anything happened to the two Ductors while they were getting the food, he and his group would be stuck. They had no idea where the new park was, or how to get there. The thought made him very nervous.

  He was thoroughly relieved, then, when he saw Cicero and Pilodus return, one of them carrying a slab of spare ribs. Waggit wondered whether he would have to eat spare ribs for the rest of his life. Until recently he’d never had one; now that was all he seemed to consume. They were tasty, but they did prove that sometimes you could have too much of a good thing.

  As soon as they considered it dark enough for the Tazarians to leave the boxes, the Ductors assembled all the food they had brought and divided it up among their guests. They insisted that they had eaten at the stash, and this was all for the Tazarians and the receptor. The meal was the usual strange mix of city food that the dogs had now become used to. Waggit was surprised at how much he missed freshly killed meat, especially because he had been so reluctant to hunt when he was younger.

  After they had finished the meal, their guides suggested that they rest until it was quiet enough for them to move out. Waggit found it difficult to relax. He was on edge, thinking about Lowdown and worried about how he would handle the next part of the journey.

  “H
ow are you feeling?” he asked the old dog.

  “Oh, not so bad,” Lowdown replied. “I ain’t exactly raring to go, but I feel a lot better than I did.”

  Gradually the noise from the streets calmed down, and finally the silence they had been waiting for settled all around them. Cicero and Pilodus decided it was time to move out, and the dogs prepared to leave. Waggit made sure that each of them said good-bye and thank you to the receptor as he held back the wire fence to let them out onto the street. They headed in the same direction as the previous night. They hadn’t gone more than a block before it became obvious that Lowdown was in trouble again. He limped badly and could move at only the slowest pace. Cicero gathered them into an empty parking lot to discuss the situation.

  “We’ve gotta make better time than this,” he said. “Not only is it dangerous to move so slowly, but we also have other dogs waiting for our help, and unless we get you to the new park quickly, we won’t be able to help them.”

  “I can’t go any faster than I am,” Lowdown said.

  “In that case,” said the Ductor, “we’ll have to leave you to make your own way as best you can.”

  This caused a wave of growls and rumblings among the Tazarians.

  “You know,” said Lowdown wearily, “before Waggit came back to fetch me after the rainstorm, I’d given up. I was in such pain, and the journey was so hard that it didn’t seem worth going on. But when I saw Waggit’s face and I realized how worried he was and how much he cared for me, then I thought ‘I’m as much a part of this team as any dog.’ Actually I think I was around before there was a team. I realized that I want to see our new home, and if I’m going to die—when I die—I want to do it surrounded by dogs who love me and I love back.” He paused for a second. “If there’s any way you can get me to the new park, please help me go there.”

  They were so moved by Lowdown’s plea, they couldn’t speak.

  “If I stayed with Lowdown, how would we find the next haven?” Waggit asked Pilodus after a few moments.

  “It’s not hard,” he replied. “You just keep going on this street until you can’t go any farther and then turn uptown. That’ll bring you there. Once we’ve got these dogs settled, Cicero and I can come back to help you find it.”

  “Let’s do it,” said Waggit. “You guys take off and we’ll follow—slowly maybe, but we’ll get there.”

  The dogs all agreed that this was the best solution, and soon Waggit and Lowdown were by themselves.

  “I wish I wasn’t such a burden,” Lowdown said after they had walked in silence for a while. “Getting old is no fun, let me tell you. If it wasn’t for the alternative, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  “I’ll be thankful if I grow old enough to be a burden,” Waggit replied. “A lot of us don’t. Did I ever tell you about the dog next to me in the Great Unknown?” Waggit had spent only a short period of his life in the dog pound before being rescued, but he had never forgotten it. “He was a really nice dog, but he didn’t make it. I sometimes wonder how any of us do.”

  It was in this somber frame of mind that they slowly continued down the street, stopping frequently for Lowdown to catch his breath and rest his legs. As on the previous night, there were very few people about, but Waggit also worried about meeting other dogs who were not members of the Ductors. He was sure that they were probably on someone else’s territory, and that the owners would defend it fiercely if they spotted intruders. Because of this fear he pushed Lowdown under a parked car when he saw two dogs in the distance running toward them. It wasn’t until the animals were quite close that he realized they were Little One and Little Two, and that Little One had something in his mouth, and a very large something at that.

  As Little One got closer, Waggit could see that it was a flat board with wheels attached to it. One end was badly broken, as if it had smashed into something with great force.

  “Look what we found” cried Little Two, when they finally got to where Waggit and Lowdown were standing. “It may be the answer to Lowdown’s problems.”

  “It may be,” said Lowdown, “if only we knew what it was.”

  “Well,” asked Waggit, “what is it?”

  “Dunno,” Little Two replied, “but it’s very cool. Little One can’t put it down because it runs away.”

  “How can it run away?” asked Waggit. “I mean, it’s not like it’s an animal or anything.”

  “Show him, Little One,” ordered Little Two.

  His friend put the thing down on its wheels and released it from his jaws. Immediately it started rolling down the slope of the road away from them.

  “See,” said Little Two gleefully, and pounced on it before it went too far. This had obviously been the source of several games before the two fun-loving dogs had had the idea that it could be used to transport Lowdown.

  “The only way to stop it,” continued Little Two, Little One’s mouth being full again, “is to lay it on its back with its legs in the air. But if you turned it the right way up and put Lowdown on it, we could pull him along and all he would have to do is stand there. Going downhill we wouldn’t even have to pull.”

  “You think?” said Waggit, looking suspiciously at the broken skateboard.

  “No,” interrupted Lowdown. “They don’t think. They’re nuts, the pair of them. There’s no way I’m getting on that thing, whatever it is.”

  “That’s the trouble with old dogs,” said Little Two. “They never want to try anything new.”

  “Wrong,” Lowdown corrected him. “The trouble with old dogs is they want to become older dogs, and they ain’t gonna achieve that by going along with your hopper-brained schemes.”

  “But you know,” said Waggit, “if it worked, it would mean we could keep up with the others, and you wouldn’t be in any pain.”

  “No,” Lowdown insisted.

  “Please,” begged Waggit. “Just try it.”

  Lowdown sighed.

  “I always suspected insanity was catching,” he said resignedly. “I’ll try it just once, but I ain’t making any promises.”

  So with Little One steadying the board in his mouth, Lowdown gingerly climbed onto it. His legs were so short that even this was difficult. He stood on his new perch and looked around.

  “I feel ridiculous up here.”

  Little One was about to mention that anything that made Lowdown taller was a good thing when he let go of the board. It immediately shot out from under the small dog, throwing Lowdown to the ground with a crash.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!” he yelled. “I thought you said I wasn’t going to be in any pain.”

  It took several minutes of persuasion, plus a solemn promise from Little One never to let go of the board again, before Lowdown would agree to get back on. Finally the old dog got the hang of staying on it.

  “You see,” said Little Two, “you just needed to get your balance”

  “It ain’t me that’s unbalanced,” growled Lowdown. “It’s you two’s brains.”

  They moved forward at a brisk pace, Little One pulling and Little Two steering from the back. Waggit was worried about the amount of noise the wheels were making, so he was the lookout. After a while it became obvious that Lowdown was thoroughly enjoying himself.

  “You know,” he said, chuckling, “this turned out to be not such a bad idea after all.”

  The road began to slope down at this point, and Little One, whose neck was getting stiff, released the board.

  “You can go by yourself for a bit,” he said.

  “Whoa,” yelled Lowdown as he began to gather speed. But then he discovered that if he put his weight on one side or the other, he could actually steer the board. What he didn’t know was how to stop it. Luckily there was a corner store at the bottom of the hill whose owners had put out a pile of cardboard boxes for the trash collectors. Lowdown, realizing that they were the softest option open to him, steered toward them and hit them with a thump.

  Despite a good deal of complaining about the stupidity o
f making something that you couldn’t stop, Lowdown had enjoyed the whole experience enough to get back on. He insisted that at least one set of dog jaws hold the skateboard at all times, downhill as well as up. This time Little One kept his promise, and the four dogs made their way, noisily, in the direction of their teammates.

  10

  The Return of a Friend

  The slope that had caused Lowdown’s collision with the boxes now got steeper, and it took all of Little One and Little Two’s strength to keep the skateboard from running away with its passenger. The road went under a highway that had traffic rumbling over it, even at this time of night. When they came to the other side of the underpass, they faced another broad avenue, and on the far side Waggit spotted a park. His heart leaped for joy at the sight of trees, bushes and grass. Even though this was only the second night of their journey, he longed for the feel and smell of earth and leaves, and to walk on something softer than concrete. Could this be the new park? he wondered optimistically. Then he remembered that Cicero told them they would stay in at least one more haven before reaching their destination. But maybe if this one met their needs, they wouldn’t have to travel so far. The Ductors had admitted they knew little of parks.

  The three dogs hurriedly pushed and pulled Lowdown across the street, and had just entered the park’s confines when they met up with Pilodus and Cicero. Even the stern-faced Cicero allowed himself a grin when he saw Lowdown on his skateboard. The old dog tried to maintain as much dignity as possible, and stood upright like an emperor in his chariot.

  “That’s pretty neat,” said Pilodus.

  “Yeah,” Waggit replied. “Neat but noisy.”

  “That won’t matter,” the other dog assured him. “We don’t go on any more streets to get to the haven. Make as much noise as you like.”