Waggit Forever (8 page)

“Everything's quiet.”

Tazar looked at Waggit and grinned. “One more time, my brother.”

And with that the dogs moved out.

T
he first part of the night's journey was as uneventful as the Ductors expected it to be, but as the streets became more residential, the dogs' progress became increasingly difficult. Even in the early hours of the morning, the area was livelier than the more sedate neighborhoods adjacent to the park. More people were on the sidewalks, and there was a surprisingly large number of cars on the road. Waggit began to wonder whether the decision to move the team as one group was a wise one. It had been difficult enough
to move seven Tazarians and two Ductors over the past two days, but now there were twice that number. Even Beidel had decided to accompany them on this last part of their journey. Felicia certainly helped by shepherding the dogs along, and Waggit watched her with pride as she escorted a small group across the street like a canine school crossing guard.

Fortunately every inch of the curb was lined with parked vehicles, and so concealment, even for this number of animals, was relatively easy. Waggit lay under one car, waiting for his turn to cross a particularly tricky intersection. From his vantage point he could see Felicia holding up her hand to stop the dogs when she saw traffic approaching, or waving them on when all was clear. He realized how fond he was of her, and that every member of the team shared his affection, even Tazar, whose hatred of humans was legendary. Waggit was conflicted about humans. He had certainly suffered because of them. He had been abandoned in the park by one at an early age; he had been captured by park rangers and sent to the pound, where he had seen many dogs taken from their cages, never to return; and he had witnessed immense cruelty
when he and Felicia had rescued Lug from men who had been throwing rocks at him.

And yet for every cruel and thoughtless human act that he had suffered or seen, he could recall an equal number of kind and caring ones. Felicia was exceptional in so many ways that he suspected she was part human and part dog, but she wasn't the only one who had shown him compassion. He had been rescued from the pound by a woman who had befriended him in the park; on his long trek with Felicia the previous year he had met a truck driver named Frosty who had given them a lift for many miles; and then there was the car-service driver named Miguel who gave them a lift in another way. He had cheered them up with his good humor and optimism when their spirits were down. But Waggit also knew that on one level Tazar was right. Humans
were
the enemy if you were a free dog. They seemed frightened of animals that they couldn't control, and dogs living on their own were something that they couldn't tolerate. They were a strange and complicated species, Waggit decided, and he thought it best to stick with dogs. At least you knew where you were with them.

These were the thoughts that drifted through his head when an incident unfolded in front of him in what seemed to be slow motion. Felicia was watching over a junction where three roads intersected, two in the usual crisscross pattern of city blocks, and another that cut across both at an angle. It was the same road that they had sprinted along during the rainstorm, only farther uptown. Beidel, who had been traveling with Tazar, was about to cross when Felicia held up her hand in warning. It was clear to Waggit from Beidel's body language that he wasn't going to take orders from a human. He looked up and down the street and then crossed. What he didn't see was a truck with a load of milk as it barreled toward its next delivery along the diagonal road. Tazar did see it, however, and he raced across the intersection hitting Beidel at full tilt, bowling him over and out of harm's way. The truck swerved and continued on its course, but not before Waggit heard a sickening thump that made his heart stop beating for a second.

Felicia ran into the middle of the road, motioning to the dogs gathered on each side to stay where they were. Waggit came out from under the car and
saw Tazar lying on the blacktop. Felicia bent over him, and then very gently she gathered him into her arms and carried him to a bus shelter that was a short distance down the block. Tazar was a large, heavy dog, but Felicia was much stronger than she appeared, and with very little difficulty she laid him down. The dogs, abandoning all caution, gathered around.

“Tazar, Tazar,” Felicia said, quietly but urgently. “Can you say something?”

There was no response from the motionless animal. She stroked his head gently and repeated what she had just said. There was still no response, but then, after a couple of minutes that seemed like an eternity, his eyelids fluttered and his big brown eyes looked up at her.

“Is Beidel okay?” were the first words out of his mouth.

Beidel, who was standing nearby, moved forward so that Tazar could see him.

“Thanks to you, Tazar, I'm fine.”

“Good,” said Tazar. “Because I wouldn't want us both to die. Teams need their leaders.”

“Indeed they do,” agreed Felicia, “and that's precisely
why you're not going to die.”

“Is Waggit there?” Tazar asked, ignoring her last remark.

Waggit pushed forward between the other dogs, his whole body shaking with fear.

“I'm here, Tazar.”

“Waggit, I'm done for,” the black dog said. “I want you to take over the team. I always intended that you would eventually; I just didn't want it to be this soon. I hope the new park works out for all of you. I would have liked to have seen it.”

“Oh, Tazar,” said Felicia, “stop being so melodramatic. You got bumped by a truck is all. You'll be fine.”

Waggit knew that Tazar could, and often did, exaggerate a situation, but that he was relentlessly stoic about any injury. In his eyes a leader must never show weakness or vulnerability. If Tazar said he was dying, he must have good reason to think so.

“Felicia,” Tazar said in a quiet voice, “I can't feel my back legs.”

A gasp went through the dogs, and nobody said a word.

“Well, in that case we have to get you some help,”
Felicia said after a moment's thought. “Waggit, go with the Ductors and settle the team in the new park. I'm pretty sure I know where it is from listening to their description. I'm going to take Tazar to some Uprights who can make him better.”

“I don't want to go near any Uprights, Felicia,” growled Tazar. “I'd sooner die here with honor.”

“Oh, don't be silly,” Felicia replied irritably. “They're not going to do anything to you that will harm you—I'll make sure of that. And then when you're better, we'll get you back with the team and everything will return to normal. Besides,” she added, “I don't see what's so honorable about dying here in a bus shelter.”

“She's right, boss,” chimed in Lowdown. “If she can get some of her kind to put you back together again, why not do it? She ain't gonna let them take you to the Great Unknown or anything like that. You know you can trust her. Besides, we need you. I mean, Waggit's a fine fellow and all that, but he ain't you—not yet he ain't.”

“He's right,” said Waggit. “I'm not.”

Then Beidel walked over to Tazar and looked into his eyes with great sympathy and respect.

“Tazar,” he began, “because of my stupid pride you saved my life, and I will never forget that. As long as I live, the Ductors will protect your team, wherever they are. You have my solemn word on that. You are a fine leader, and leaders like us are rare. We have something that other dogs don't. It can't be acquired; it can only be strengthened over time. Your boy here”—he nodded toward Waggit—“probably has it, but he needs your example and teaching to help him achieve his potential. Don't let him down; don't let your team down; most of all, don't let yourself down. Go with this Upright and let her help you. Your team will be in good paws, I promise you.”

After that speech there was nothing left to say. The biggest hurdle now was getting Tazar to the people who could give him the medical attention he needed. It was one thing for Felicia to pick him up and carry him to the bus shelter, but he was far too heavy for her to carry him a long distance. She had no idea where she would find a veterinarian, but in all likelihood it was many blocks from where they were now. Once again, the skateboard came to the rescue. With its broken end it was barely big enough
to carry the big black dog, but if he lay on it with his legs sticking out sideways, he could just stay on. Felicia removed one of the scarves that held up her baggy shorts and tied it around the front wheels of the board, declaring as she did that if the worst thing that happened was her pants falling down, then they would be in good shape. Of course this meant that Lowdown would have to make the rest of the journey on his own, but he assured Tazar that he was up to it, and the Ductors said that they weren't too far from the new park anyway.

The last they saw of Felicia and Tazar that day was the strange sight of her dragging their injured chief toward what they all hoped would be his full recovery. Waggit stood next to Beidel as they watched them disappear around a corner.

“He's a fine dog,” muttered Beidel.

Waggit realized that this was the first time the other animal had spoken to him directly since their initial meeting. Unless he was giving orders, Beidel only ever conversed leader to leader. This meant one thing: He recognized that Waggit was now in charge of the Tazarians. From this moment on, and until Tazar's return, they were his responsibility.

The accident had cost the group precious time, and Dragoman was eager to get them back on their journey. But Lowdown was still having trouble moving quickly. Even though he gritted his teeth and fought back the pain, his legs were just too stiff to move as fast as the Ductors wanted. The other dogs helped him as best they could; Magica even took his tail in her mouth, lifting his back legs off the ground and pushing him forward like a rather scruffy wheel-barrow. But however they tried to ease him along, it was still slow going, and their guides kept looking nervously at the night sky for any sign of light.

Finally they came to a curving sidewalk bordered by a high gray stone wall, over which branches hung. Pilodus, who was in the lead, began to run with excitement and didn't stop until he reached a gap in the wall. As the other dogs caught up with him, they saw that this opened onto a path that went up the side of a wooded hill.

“We're here!” Pilodus barked.

The team ran up the hill, yipping with joy. They abandoned the footpath for the pleasure of feeling the earth, leaves, and tree roots beneath their paws, and the smell of green things growing. Even Lowdown was
caught up in the excitement and did his best to keep up. The hill ran steeply up to its brow, and it was with high expectations that they ran toward it, impatient to see the view that would unfold before them when they reached the crest. Alicia was the fastest dog on the team by far, but she was also the laziest, and so it was Waggit and Magica who were the first to get there. What they saw made their hearts sink.

Instead of the vastness of the park they were used to, this one occupied a narrow strip of land between the road they had been on and the highway that flanked the wide expanse of the river. Not only was the park small, but most of it was also taken up with formal gardens that surrounded a large building of yellow stone with a tower at one end. Directly in front of them was a blacktop parking lot, sectioned off into large spaces. On the sidewalk in front of these were signs showing that the parking areas were for buses only. The dogs couldn't read the signs, but they recognized the drawings on them. They knew what buses looked like, and they also knew that they were usually filled with people. It seemed this was one of the most people-intensive areas they had ever seen, and as such
completely unsuitable for their needs. Alicia said what everyone was thinking.

“Well, wouldja look at that. The gateway to the Great Unknown!”

T
he dogs wandered unhappily around the parking lot, sniffing halfheartedly at spots where the buses had leaked oil. The area was empty now, but the dogs knew that when daylight came, it would fill with vehicles containing people. They also knew that the same people would immediately call the authorities when they saw a pack of dogs.

“We came all this way for this?” Alicia continued. “Tazar may die for this? What were those dogs thinking?”

“They wasn't thinking,” grumbled Gruff. “That's the trouble with dogs nowadays—they never think. It's always act first, think later—if ever.”

“What'll we do, Waggit?” asked Cal.

“We can't stay here,” added Raz.

“D'you think it's a trap?” Alona wondered.

“We'll fight 'em off…,” Little One said.

“…if it is,” added Little Two.

Waggit knew they were all turning to him as their leader for reassurance and direction. The Tazarians had raced up the hill in their excitement, way ahead of the Ductors, who were just joining them now. Waggit turned to them to get answers to the team's questions, but before he could say a word, Dragoman walked up to him.

“You can't hang around here. We have to move on before the light,” he insisted.

“But I thought here was here,” said Waggit. “I mean, I thought this was here. What I mean to say is, I thought this was the new park.”

“No,” said Dragoman, amazed that Waggit would even think it. “You can't live here—it's far too small. No, the park you're going to is next to this. Come on, let me show you.”

He walked to the other side of the yellow stone building, with Waggit and the rest of the team following. Lowdown, who had finally caught up, panted and wheezed alongside them. Dragoman stopped on a terrace that was attached to one end of the building. The view, even in the blackness of night, was magnificent, with the broad, stately river dominating the landscape as it wound its way to the sea. This was the highest point of the park, and beneath them the dogs could see the paths that ran down to the surrounding streets. They were outlined in lights that cast an eerie yellowish green glow. The paths ended at a bridge that ran over a road connecting to the highway. On the far side of the bridge was a hill, a huge, black mass of land, without a single light on it to break up its impenetrable darkness.

“That,” said Dragoman, pointing his nose toward the hill, “is your new home. That is where you will live.”

The Tazarians looked at the hill with a combination of excitement and awe at its vastness. Each of them was lost in his or her own thoughts until Lowdown broke the silence.

“I hope there's some flat bits,” he said, “because I
ain't got the legs what can go up and down that all day.”

The dogs' laughter cut through their apprehension, and they began to make their way down to the bridge. When they got to it, the Ductors stopped. Beidel turned toward Waggit.

“We will go no farther,” he said. “I made a promise to Tazar back there that I will keep. If you need help, send one of your dogs to this place, but only during the time of darkness. This is not our realm, but we have good relations with the Terminors, and the streets around the park are in their realm. They have dogs who patrol here each darkness, and they will get the message back to me.” He looked up at the looming mass of the hill and shuddered. “Good luck here,” he continued. “I hope it meets your needs, though it's not a place I'd choose.”

Then he stretched forward on his two front legs and bowed down in a gesture of farewell, and with that the Ductors turned and made their way back up the path toward the yellow stone building. They had gone only a few feet when Waggit called out to them.

“Beidel,” he cried, “thank you. Thank you to all
the Ductors for bringing us here. We're in your debt forever.”

“No,” answered Beidel. “Tazar canceled any debt back there. You owe us nothing.”

The Ductors continued up the path, watched by the Tazarians until they disappeared over the top of the hill and were gone. Waggit turned to the team.

“Let's find out what our new home is like,” he said, trying to sound as excited and optimistic as possible.

They trooped over the bridge and entered a thick wood with only narrow paths. Even though the sky was beginning to lighten, beneath the canopy of leaves above their heads it was still as black as Tazar's coat. But the most noticeable thing about the new environment was the smell. To dogs, with their extraordinary noses, the way something smells is more important than the way it looks, and this place smelled wilder than anywhere else in the city that they'd ever been. They could smell and hear the presence of many animals of all sizes, and that promised good hunting; they could also smell the pungent odor of dead leaves that had lain where they were for years, undisturbed by leaf blowers, rakes, or any of the other tools park workers used to clean and tidy. The dogs could only
faintly smell the scent of humans. Some had passed through the woods, but not enough to leave the overpowering smell that had filled the air in their former home, even in the Deepwoods End. So far, this new park felt good.

Waggit led the team along the narrow path, looking for a clearing where they could rest. He knew that his dogs were getting tired, drained of energy by both the stress of the journey and the shock of Tazar's accident. The trail ascended sharply, and the incline made it slow going for tired legs. He decided they couldn't go any farther and divided the team in two, putting one half on either side of the pathway, hidden by the ferns that grew beneath the trees. He placed Cal and Raz on Eyes and Ears duty and then settled down to sleep himself. He was exhausted but couldn't sleep; he was too wired by the night's events and his new responsibilities. He also longed to be living during the day again. He didn't like this nocturnal existence. He was an animal who needed light, and so he decided to scout out their new home.

The path they had been on continued to wind steeply upward and Waggit decided to follow it. As he climbed, he noticed that there was none of the
evidence of humans that was everywhere in their previous park—no archways or benches, no paved footpaths or ball fields. This was raw woodland that had gone almost unchanged for as long as the hill had been there. It was perfect for the dogs with one exception: There was no open space that he could see, no place to run or just lie in the sun. It was late morning, but the only light was filtered through the ceiling of leaves that arched over everything.

Then he felt some deep instinct kick in. It was a tingling in the nose and an itching of the coat that said to him, “This way. Follow me.” He cut across the woods away from the path. The going was hard. The same kinds of ferns that were protecting his sleeping team kept getting caught around his legs, slowing him down. Then he came upon a huge cliff made of rock, similar to those they had lived by in Central Park but much bigger and steeper. Waggit was eager to see what was at the top, and he began to scramble up the sharp incline, holding on to tree branches with his teeth to balance himself when he lost his footing.

It was a tough climb and one that could only have been done by a dog as young, strong, and fit as he was. The last few feet were the hardest, when every muscle
in his weary body cried out for rest, but with one last massive effort he pulled himself over the rock's edge. What he saw made him gasp. In front of him was dog paradise. The cliff formed the outer perimeter of an open plateau with a magnificent view of the river and the land that extended for many miles from its far bank. A broad meadow thick with sweet-smelling grasses spread out from the rim of the plateau and stretched back to another rock formation on its far end. From this a crystal spring flowed, pouring water that ran into a pool and then tumbled down the hillside in a gurgling stream. Cut into the rocks near the spring were natural caves, and woods surrounded either side of the meadow.

Waggit was elated. This was better than he could ever have imagined, and eagerly he ran across the grass to explore the dark, cavernous holes in the rock. There were four of them that ran in a row at the foot of the outcrop where it met the meadow. The first one he entered was shallow, but with a dry, sandy floor that looked like it was protected from the elements. He moved to the next one, peering into its dim interior. It was only a little bigger than the first, but the one next to it appeared to open up into a much larger space.

Cautiously, he entered. Once through the narrow entrance it became a cave so big that until his eyes became accustomed to the gloom, he could not make out its roof or walls. As he moved forward, the scratching of his claws on the sandy floor echoed loudly, however softly he walked. Suddenly he stopped. Staring at him from deep within the cave was a pair of yellow eyes that followed his every movement. He couldn't make out the rest of the animal, so he stepped to one side, allowing light to flood into the cavern. He drew in his breath as a wave of fear ran through his body. There in front of him, lying still and impassive, was the silhouette of a huge and magnificent timber wolf. Waggit averted his eyes from the wolf's stare in a gesture of submission.

“I am Waggit,” he said, still not daring to lift his head.

“I know,” replied the wolf in a resonant voice.

“How?” asked Waggit. “How do you know?”

“I am a Gray One,” replied the wolf. “This and many other things I know.”

For as long as he had been with the team, Waggit had heard stories of the Gray Ones, mythical creatures of amazing powers who were on this earth to protect
the lives of ordinary dogs. No one he knew had ever seen one, and he had assumed that they only existed in the stories handed down from one generation of dogs to the next; yet here he was in the presence of one. Or was he? Waggit dared to glance up briefly. The end of the cave where the wolf was lying was so dark that he could barely make out his shape. Only the intensity of those yellow eyes stopped him from going closer.

“Do you live in this cave?” he asked the wolf.

“I live nowhere and everywhere” came the puzzling reply.

“My team needs a home,” Waggit said. “I came here to look for one.”

“You have found one,” the wolf assured him. “This is your home.”

“Here—in this cave?” asked Waggit.

“Does it not feel like your home?” the wolf answered.

Waggit considered the question before saying anything. He examined how he felt in this cool, dark place, and he realized that despite the formidable presence of this powerful creature he felt at peace.

“It does, Gray One,” he finally replied. “We could live here in harmony.”

“Well, most of you,” said the wolf. “I'm not sure Alicia and Gruff will ever find serenity—or even seek it.”

Waggit looked up, astonished, all fear of the creature gone. Did he detect a twinkle in those blazing yellow eyes? Did Gray Ones make jokes? He had never heard of such a thing. And how did he know the names of the Tazarians? Then a thought occurred to him.

“You say you know many things, Gray One,” he said respectfully. “Tell me this—do you know if Tazar will recover?”

“I know many things, but not everything” came the reply. “Tazar's fate is written for him, as is yours, and he will follow his script as you will follow yours. But now you must sleep. You cannot lead without it. You are a good dog, Waggit, and you deserve your rest.”

Waggit suddenly felt more tired than he had ever felt in his life. He lay down without even turning around four times as he usually did, and instantly fell into a deep, dark sleep.