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Free! Free! Free!

It was excellent. Fabulous, even.

But, wow, he was pretty wet. And it was windy. And other than the fact that this was a place called New Hampshire, he had no idea where he was.

And now, a lot of branches were snapping in the heavy winds and falling all around him. One even bounced off his shoulder! Maybe it would be smart to find some shelter, until the storm was over.

He was a country boy, so the forest didn't scare him.

Even though it was dark.

Really
dark.

It was lucky that he was a brave and fearsome fellow, or he might have been tempted to run back to his kennel and pretend that his bold escape attempt had never happened.

There were other animals out here in the forest, but he didn't smell anything ominous. Squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, deer, skunks, and—well, wait. Skunks weren't his favorite. He would have to be careful to avoid them.

After exploring for a while, he came across a little rock den, which seemed pretty dry. It looked like an ideal place to spend the rest of the night, but he could smell that something was already inside.

Raccoons. Several of them.

“Excuse me,” he said politely, from outside the den. “Is there any room in there?”

A pudgy raccoon lumbered over to the entrance, and looked him over.

“Nope, can't help you,” the raccoon said. “We don't like dogs, and you're huge, and you're very wet.”

“Well, that's the point,” the Bad Hat said. “I'm trying to get in from out of the rain.”

The raccoon shook his head firmly. “Nope. Sorry. If we
knew you, maybe, but you're a stranger, and domesticated. You would be a corrupting influence on the children.”

“I'm abandoning humanity forever,” the Bad Hat said. “So, you don't have to worry about me saying anything nice about human beings. I'm totally behind the whole life-in-the-wilderness self-reliance thing.”

The raccoon studied him some more, but then shook his head again. “Sorry, large dog. We're pretty cramped in here as it is. But, good luck to you. Please go now, because you're disturbing our rest.”

“I thought you guys were nocturnal,” the Bad Hat said.

The stocky raccoon shrugged. “Usually we are, but the little ones get tired. And we tend to hunker down in bad weather.”

A much smaller raccoon peeked out. “Help! A dog! Don't try to eat us!”

“Don't worry, wee one,” the older raccoon said. “I'm just going to give him directions to a pile of logs where he can find some shelter. Go back and lie down.”

The young raccoon shrugged. “Okay. Bye, scary dog!”

“Good night,” the Bad Hat said. “Sleep well.” He shivered a little. “Stay dry!”

The older raccoon gave him a long look, and the Bad Hat tried to look as wet and pathetic and nonthreatening as possible.

“Just for the night?” the dog said, making his voice sound much higher and weaker than normal.

The raccoon sighed. “Okay,” he said, and used a long-clawed front paw to draw a distinct line in the dirt. “You can stay until morning, as long as you don't come inside any further than this. And if you snore, all bets are off.”

Fair enough. “Thank you,” the Bad Hat said. “I'm much obliged.”

It was a tight squeeze, but the dog managed to curl up in the dirt, protected from the rain and wind. Freedom was
very
tiring. So, he had no trouble dozing off, even though the raccoons were sleeping with what sounded like a concert of wheezy, little snorts. In fact, he went into such a heavy sleep, that he didn't have any dreams at all, even the normal ones where he was running, and his legs would thrash around.

When he woke up in the morning, the first thing he saw was a pair of yellow beady eyes a couple of inches from his face.

“Yikes!” the Bad Hat yelped. He jumped away from the eyes, bumping his head on the top of the musty den.

“Good morning,” a tiny raccoon said. “I wanted to look at you up close.”

That was for sure. It would be hard to get
closer
than the little animal had been to his face, without actually climbing on him. The dog quickly went outside the den and stood in the clearing. It was nice to be out in the fresh air again! And even though the ground was muddy and some branches had fallen down, it looked like it was going to be a bright, sunny day.

“I never saw an actual dog before,” the baby raccoon explained, following right behind him. “Just pictures in a book we found in the trash once, and my grandpoppy sometimes tells scary stories about you, and what you're all like.”

Okay, he now felt compelled to defend his entire species. “Most of us are really very friendly,” the Bad Hat said. “No matter what you've heard.”

“I don't know.” The baby raccoon moved even closer than he had been before, staring with those huge yellow unblinking eyes. “You have funny short fur, and that would make it hard to trust you.”

“Leave him alone,” an adult raccoon—almost certainly the baby's mother—said crossly. “You are being very rude, Morton.”

“But, look at his fur!” the little raccoon said, and tapped the Bad Hat's muzzle with his paw. “He feels like an otter! Only, he is way too tall.”

“I'm a Retriever,” the Bad Hat said. Supposedly, anyway.

“Can you swim?” the little raccoon asked. “All fast and sleek like otters do?”

He had never seen an otter in real life, so it was hard to be sure. “Of course,” the Bad Hat said. “Retrievers are
all about
swimming.”

“That's awesome,” the little raccoon said happily, and then pointed at the rabies tag on his collar. “I like that—it's so shiny! Would you give it to me?”

Why not? “Sure,” the Bad Hat said. “But, it's metal, and I don't know how to take it off.”

“I bet I can do it,” the little raccoon said proudly. “I have opposable thumbs.”

Okay, whatever. “Knock yourself out,” the Bad Hat said. “If you can pry it off, it's yours.”

The little raccoon stood on his hind legs, and twisted and pulled and tugged at the bright red tag. It wasn't
exactly comfortable, but the Bad Hat waited patiently for him to finish. Finally, though, the raccoon stopped, out of breath.

“That's really hard,” he panted. “Maybe my thumbs aren't opposable
enough
.”

The raccoon's brothers and sisters came tumbling out of the den to try and help. When that didn't work, the parents and the grumpy grandfather raccoon also pried at the stubborn metal fastener, without success.

This time yesterday, the Bad Hat had not expected to start off his day standing in the middle of the forest, surrounded by a family of vocal and frustrated raccoons.

“Tell you what,” he said, since he was pretty tired of having his neck poked and prodded. “It was very hospitable of you to let me spend the night. Why don't you take the whole collar, and then you can play with
all
of the license tags?”

The young raccoons jumped up and down with excitement, shouting in their squeaky little voices.

“All right, but just this once,” their mother said. “And please thank the nice oversized dog for the present.”

The little raccoons tugged on his collar until they were able to pull it over his head.

“Thanks, Mr. Huge Dog!” they all said. “You're
nifty
. We like you!”

“You're welcome,” the Bad Hat said, just as politely.

He watched for a few minutes while the young raccoons formed a small circle and began throwing the collar back and forth, playing catch with it. They laughed and cheered and erupted into tiny giggles as the tags jingled together in the air.

Well, whatever floated their little boats, right?

The dog felt sort of—naked—without a collar, but, maybe that was a good thing. Now, he was truly a Creature of the Wild. Technically, yes, he had a microchip, which Dr. K. had put in, but it didn't show, and he certainly would not mention it to anyone.

As he trotted away, the baby raccoons yelled, “Thank you!” and then went back to their dancing and giggling.

He wandered through the woods for a while, not sure where he was going or what he was going to do next. There were so many possibilities! Not that he could think of anything specific right now—but, well, he knew the possibilities
existed
.

He noticed that his stomach was growling, and that he was very hungry. That was a serious problem, since he
didn't have a bowl! And so, no one was going to come along and put food in it.

The concept of that was so horrifying that he had to sink down into a pile of wet pine needles to absorb it.

No dish. No breakfast. No homemade biscuits.

Wow. This was a serious flaw in his plan to be a rebellious loner.

Should he become a big, bad hunter? Stalk through the wilderness, attacking helpless prey, and surviving by his own wits and skills?

Except, what if the prey turned out to be cute little animals, who snickered and frolicked and were much too adorable to pounce on? That would be awful.

Okay, he would simply forage in trash cans for scraps. It wasn't dignified—but, it would be delicious. To make the plan work, though, he would have to find some houses, first. So far, this part of New Hampshire seemed to be pretty deserted.

He wasn't completely sure where New Hampshire even
was
, except that he knew that it was up north, and that the people—and animals—had funny accents. So, he decided to explore. He walked through the woods for what seemed like a really long time, until he found a
road. It was much easier to make his way on pavement, so he trotted along, jumping into the bushes to hide whenever he heard a car coming. Mostly, because he was afraid of cars, but also so that he wouldn't be captured, if anyone came out looking for him.

At first, all he passed were woods and farms, surrounded by green mountains in the distance. The air smelled clean and fresh, and he stopped to breathe deeply every so often.

It was good to be free!

There were horses and cows and sheep and goats and chickens, and sometimes people, and even dogs, on the farms. Some of the farms had big fields, or orchards, and he saw lots of pickup trucks and barns and tractors and plowing equipment. Luckily, no one seemed to notice—or care—that a big black dog was running down the road, with no collar.

There had been so much rain the night before that there were puddles everywhere. So, he could stop and get a long, refreshing drink whenever he wanted. It wasn't as good as a normal breakfast, but it was better than nothing.

After a while, he started passing small houses and cottages. He sniffed experimentally, in case there were any
tasty trash cans nearby. But, most of the houses seemed to be empty. No cars, no sign of movement, no indication of anyone living in them.

That was creepy. What if some kind of aliens, or witches, had come and taken all of the people away? Or, what if the people were still here, but they were zombies? He was pretty sure he would have a hard time winning a fight against a bunch of zombies. Besides, if he bit a zombie, he might turn
into
one. That would be terrible.

The Bad Hat slowed his pace, moving more cautiously. Maybe, if he saw anything suspicious, his best plan would be to run away as fast as he could. He was on a dirt road now, and the woods on either side were dark and thick with trees.

Did zombies have a scent? If not, he would be in trouble, because they could jump out at him when he least expected it.

Just in case, he broke into a gallop right away. He was almost certainly faster than the average zombie, right? But, it wouldn't hurt to get a head start.

Should he give up and run home to the rescue group? Although he was pretty far away now, and he had been wandering around so much that it might take him
a long time to find it again. Besides, he wanted to have adventures—as long as they were nice adventures.
Safe
adventures.

The woods were seriously thick. Fir trees, and bushes, and all kinds of undergrowth, which made everything seem very dark and mysterious. In addition to zombies, what if there were other scary things? Like lions? And tigers? And maybe even
bears
?

Okay, maybe it was time to turn around and go the other way. It might be safer to—just then, something lunged out of the bushes at him, yelling, “Hey!”

The Bad Hat was so scared, that he heard himself make a sort of squeal, and he sprang straight up into the air to avoid his attacker.

“Wow, that was some
serious
elevation!” his vicious enemy said. “I'm going to give you a nine-point-three for that jump, Bad Hat.”

Jack. It was Jack.

The Bad Hat let out his breath, and tried to get his heart to stop beating so hard. “What are you doing here?”

Jack was frowning at his front paw as he examined some mud caked on it. “This is gross. So much nature. Anyway, Florence said it was okay for you to have some
adventures, as long as you used the buddy system.” Then, he grinned. “Oops, I meant, the
colleague
system.”

Well, what kind of dumb idea was
that
? “That doesn't work at all,” the Bad Hat said. “I'm a loner. I'm not looking for, you know, a
sidekick
.”

Jack shrugged. “Florence made a rule. I'm just doing what she told me. I would have been here sooner, but I wanted to play in the meadow for a while, and have some breakfast, first.”

He'd had
breakfast
? The Bad Hat looked at him enviously. “What did you have?”

Jack thought for a minute. “Well, first, they gave me some nice fresh water in my bowl. And then, kibble, of course. And there was some really good beefy gravy. I had to lick my dish for
a long time
to make sure I got all of it.”