Waggit Again (4 page)

C
autiously they crept along the side of the bar until they came to an alleyway that was at the rear of the building. Here they saw three men throwing rocks at a sturdy pit bull they had trapped between a wall and one of the bar's Dumpsters. The dog cowered in terror and yelped as each rock hit him. Already there were some places where he was cut and blood was starting to ooze. Felicia drew herself to her full height, which was considerable, and stepped into the alley.

“Let's stop that right now,” she demanded in a
voice that was calm but authoritative.

The men looked around in surprise.

“Why don't you just move on and mind your own business?” one of them said.

“When innocent animals are being needlessly hurt, it
is
my business,” replied Felicia. “It's everybody's business.”

“Listen, you old hag, take that flea-bitten mutt of yours and get out of here now before we give you some of the same,” yelled the man.

However, Felicia's calming influence seemed to be having some effect on the other two.

“We didn't mean to hurt it,” said one of them, which was difficult to believe since he was holding a rock in both hands.

“We were scared of it,” added the third, letting his rock drop to the ground as if trying to get rid of the evidence. “We thought it was going to attack us.”

The sad creature huddled against the Dumpster didn't look as if it was able to attack a chipmunk, let alone three grown men.

“It's a pit bull,” insisted the first man, who was clearly the leader, “and pit bulls are vicious—everyone knows that.”

“No,” said one of the others, “the lady's right. We shouldn't've been doing that. It weren't hurting us none.”

“You see, ma'am,” the third addressed Felicia, “we had a little too much to drink.”

“You speak for yourself, Jimmy, you wimp,” said the leader. “I'm stone-cold sober, and I don't want no pit bulls 'round this neighborhood, and no homeless people neither,” he continued, looking at Felicia.

He picked up another rock and hurled it at the pit bull. The dog was frozen with terror and made no attempt to avoid being hit. It struck him hard on his back leg, and he let out another squeal of pain but still did not move. The rock thrower picked up another stone and prepared to aim it at the prostrate creature when Waggit suddenly ran toward him and delivered a sharp nip to the back of his ankle. Now it was the man's turn to howl, which he did as he hopped up and down on one foot while holding on to the other. Waggit took advantage of the man's unbalanced state by throwing his full weight at the back of his knee and bringing him crashing to the ground. Felicia, in the meantime, had taken hold of the pit bull by his collar and was dragging him away from
the corner where he had been trapped.

The man was a good deal drunker than he had claimed and was finding it extremely difficult to get back on his feet. His friends had already fled, fearing that the commotion would attract unwanted attention. When the man finally managed to prop himself up on his arms, Waggit darted in and nipped his wrist, causing him to go down again. He lay on the pavement looking up at Felicia and the two dogs, hatred and anger burning in his eyes.

“I'll get you. I'll get all of you,” he yelled. “I'm going to get my gun and my friends and don't think I won't.”

“Boys,” Felicia said to the two dogs, “we'd better get out of here as quickly as possible, because I think I believe him.”

The three of them ran as fast as their legs would take them, which in Felicia's and Waggit's case was pretty fast. They took the darkest and quietest streets until they finally came out on the far side of the town. As they left the buildings behind they moved into rolling, open countryside, with narrow lanes and large fields surrounded by stone walls, inside which cows stood or lay. They could just make out a ridge of mountains
silhouetted on the horizon. They paused to catch their breath. The pit bull was in some pain and was making sure everyone knew it.

“Ouch. Ow. I can't go on. It hurts.”

As Felicia bent down to give the injuries a closer inspection, Waggit's ears pricked and his hackles went up.

“I can hear something coming this way,” he warned.

Felicia stood to her full height and saw headlights in the distance.

“It's probably that awful man and some of his drunken pals,” she said.

She looked around for somewhere to hide, but she could see none—no bushes or stands of trees or even any farm buildings that would afford them cover.

“Well,” she said, looking at the herd of cows nearest them, “there's nothing to do but beg a favor from our cloven-hoofed friends.”

Apart from the stone wall there was also a wire fence running around the perimeter of the field, and it pinged quietly, indicating that it was electrified. Despite Felicia's warnings, the pit bull managed to get zapped twice while scrambling through, even though Waggit made it with ease. When all three of them
were in the field they approached the cows tentatively, Felicia leading the way. She went up to the nearest one, which chewed contemplatively. The animal had an unusually large set of horns for a female, and Waggit eyed them with concern.

“Good evening,” Felicia began. “I wonder if you would do my two friends and me a favor. Some very bad men are pursuing us, and there are no hiding places in the vicinity. Would you and the other ladies mind if we sort of crouched down among you? We would be very quiet and still and cause no trouble, I assure you. Would that be okay?”

The cow looked at her with a baleful eye and said, “Moooooo.”

“Oh dear,” said Felicia, turning to the dogs. “I seem to have forgotten all my cow communication skills. One needs them so infrequently, and if you don't use them you certainly do lose them.”

The cow still hadn't moved, so Waggit went as close to her as he dared, given the size of her horns, and growled in what he hoped was a menacing manner. It clearly wasn't very frightening because she just looked down at him disdainfully, but then slowly and unhurriedly she walked out of the way, allowing them
access to the middle of the herd.

“Well, that works for me,” said Felicia. “Come, boys, let's mingle quietly.”

She got on all fours and crawled in between the cows. For a moment Waggit thought she might even start nibbling the grass as well, but she did not. He and the pit bull moved into the center also, although the latter seemed very jumpy, and not too happy with the arrangement. The three of them crouched down making sure that they each had a sleeping cow between them and the road. They had just gotten into this position when they heard the sound of a truck approaching. The dogs held their breath as the light from the headlights swept over the field, but the cows didn't move and the vehicle drove on without seeing them.

They remained in their positions for several minutes until it was obvious that their pursuers were not coming back. Then Felicia got up and turned to the herd.

“Thank you so much. Your help has been invaluable,” she said.

The cows either didn't understand what she said or didn't care, for none of them paid her the slightest attention. Waggit looked around to see in which
direction they should go. In the far corner of the field he could just see in the darkness the outline of some sort of building. The three of them hurried toward it. As they got closer they saw that it was a dilapidated, crude shelter, but still sufficient to provide them with some protection for the rest of the night.

The floor of the building was covered with old, damp hay that smelled sour, but which made it a little softer to lie on. Felicia took off her backpack and sat down on it. Waggit lay next to her, but the pit bull paced nervously back and forth at the hut's entrance.

“Relax,” said Waggit, “they won't find us here.”

“Yeah?” said the pit bull. “It's all very well for you to say ‘Relax,' but you weren't the one they were throwing rocks at.”

This was certainly true and seemed a valid point.

“What's your name?” Waggit asked, trying a different tactic to get the dog to calm down.

“Lug,” replied the pit bull, clearly in no mood to engage in conversation.

“Mine's Waggit,” said Waggit, “and this is Felicia.”

“Very pleased to meet you, even under these
circumstances,” Felicia said warmly. “Now I think we'd better take a look at what those dreadful men did to you.” She went over to him and gently ran her hands over his body, inspecting the places where the rocks had done their damage. Then she got a first-aid kit from her backpack, squeezed some ointment out of a tube, and rubbed it into the places where the dog's skin had been broken. He made more fuss when she did this than when the men pelted him with the rocks that had made the wounds in the first place.

“Ow. Eeee. Be careful. Oooh, that stings” and other words to that effect came out in a constant stream of complaint.

“Goodness gracious,” said Felicia, “what a fuss. Couldn't you be just a little more pit-bullish?”

“I'm very sensitive,” whined Lug.

“You certainly are,” agreed Felicia, “but if any of these get infected you'll be very sick as well.”

Her first-aid work over, she decided that it was her bedtime. She took her sleeping bag off the backpack, unrolled it, removed her boots, and climbed in. Within minutes her gentle snoring indicated that she was fast asleep. The dogs, Lug in particular, were still
too wired by the excitement of the evening's events to follow her.

“It did hurt when she put that stuff on,” he said defensively.

Waggit made no comment.

“How come,” Lug continued after a pause, “she can understand what we say, and we can understand her?”

“She just can,” said Waggit. “She says all Uprights could if they tried, but they've forgotten how.”

“Well, that's a blessing,” declared Lug. “I wouldn't want them to know everything I said. That would be way too scary.”

“I thought,” said Waggit, “that pit bulls weren't scared of anything.”

“That's the curse of our breed,” Lug replied. “Everyone expects us to be fighters, and some of us just aren't. All I want is a quiet life, not this constant confrontation.”

“Well,” said Waggit, “I don't think your quiet life's going to start tonight, so you might as well get some sleep so you'll be ready for tomorrow.”

“Sometimes it seems as if it's always going to be like this,” Lug said with a mournful sigh, but he was
to get no sympathy from the others, for Waggit was also drifting off to sleep. As he lost consciousness he could still hear the click of Lug's claws on the floor as he paced up and down.

T
he following morning Felicia was already up when the dogs awoke. Waggit watched her sleepily as she dug into her backpack and pulled out some food for breakfast. This fascinated him because the bag always seemed to contain more stuff than it could possibly hold. He wasn't fascinated enough, however, to stop from eating the food she put in front of him—today's menu was cans of chipped beef and was lip-smackingly delicious.

When the meal was finished and Felicia had cleared
away the dishes, she stood up and looked around. What she saw wasn't encouraging; just field after field of rugged, rock-filled countryside mixed with thickly wooded areas that sometimes went on for miles. There were farm buildings in the distance, and already she could hear the sound of tractors and other equipment being started for the day's work. There were no major highways in view, nor any other form of transportation that would get them on their way. She turned to Lug.

“Are you from around here?” she inquired. “I'm not familiar with this area.”

“I've lived here all my life,” he answered.

“Tell me,” she said, “how far are we from the railroad?”

“I don't know,” replied Lug. “When I said I lived around here I meant in the town. I've never been this far out.”

“It's over there,” said Waggit, pointing his nose in one direction. “I can hear it; there's something going through now.”

“You're right,” agreed Lug. “I hear it now. It's slowing down. Oh, no, it's picking up speed again.”

Felicia tilted her head to one side, straining to catch a sound.

“You dogs,” she said. “Your hearing never ceases to amaze me. Well, that's the direction we should go.” She turned toward Lug. “So,” she said to him, “it's been a pleasure to meet you, and maybe our paths will cross again sometime. Try to keep those wounds as clean as possible, and you should be okay.”

Lug appeared crestfallen, as if he was about to burst into tears.

“You mean…?” His voice trembled. “You mean…”

“What's the matter?” asked Felicia.

“You mean,” said Lug, “you're leaving me?”

“We have to,” explained Felicia. “Waggit and I have a long journey to make. Besides, your family will be worried about you.”

“I don't have a family,” Lug said with a sigh.

“Nobody?” said Felicia. “You don't live with any people?”

“No,” replied Lug. “The Upright at the bar feeds me from time to time, but he's the only one that I see a lot. Can't I come with you?”

Felicia considered this for a moment, but Waggit did not look happy with the suggestion.

“If Waggit doesn't mind, then I would have no
objection,” she finally said.

“But he won't know anybody when he gets to New York,” Waggit protested.

“I don't know anybody here,” said Lug. “Or hardly anybody.”

“But New York's a tough town,” the other dog insisted.

“You mean they do worse there than throw rocks at you when they get drunk?” asked Lug fearfully.

“No, I suppose not,” Waggit conceded. “I guess if Felicia doesn't mind, it's all right with me if you come with us.”

“Thank you,” said Lug. “You won't regret it.”

Waggit was not so sure.

Felicia decided that they should try to complete at least part of the trip by train.

“Do they allow dogs on trains?” Waggit asked, not quite sure of what trains were.

“Bless you,” said Felicia, “the trains we'll be traveling on don't even allow people on them. There hasn't been a passenger train in these parts for years. No, we'll be going freight.”

Waggit wasn't quite sure what “going freight” meant either, but anything without people sounded good to
him. They headed in the direction the noise of the train seemed to be coming from, wherever possible crossing fields and open countryside rather than roads. They stayed by the stone walls that marked the edges of the fields, trying to be inconspicuous. This also helped in one field, where a bull eyed them suspiciously. Felicia remembered the phrase in cattle language for “Good morning,” which she yelled out to him cheerily, but it did nothing to improve his humor, and they were relieved to move on to the next meadow.

They had much better luck with four horses grazing in a paddock near one of the farms. At first they were as startled that Felicia could talk to them as both Waggit and Lug had been and, being horses, shied away nervously, but when they realized she was no threat they happily chatted with her for several minutes. They knew where the railroad was, and because they had covered the area extensively on trail rides, they were able to tell Felicia the best way to get there without attracting too much attention.

Finally the three travelers saw the embankment upon which the tracks ran, and they walked in the fields next to it with Felicia leading the way in complete silence. She was obviously looking for something.

“You said you heard the train slow down?” she asked the two dogs.

They replied that they had both heard it, but that it picked up speed again soon afterward.

“We need to find where it slowed,” she explained, “because that will be the only place where we'll be able to get on board.”

Waggit ran ahead, happy to have something to do. Every so often he would sprint up the bank, but he couldn't see anything that would cause the train to reduce speed. Suddenly the land went uphill until the tracks and the fields were on the same level. The rails went around a sharp bend, and then he saw it—a railroad crossing over a road with two barriers on either side, their arms pointing to the sky, followed by another steep turn in the track.

“Here,” he yelled to the others. “This must be where the trains slow down.”

Felicia and Lug hurried to catch up with him, Felicia striding along but Lug lumbering beside her, panting profusely.

“Well done, Waggit,” she congratulated him. “You found it. This is the perfect place to wait.”

She put her pack down on the grass next to the road
and sat on it, first of all taking out a bottle of water, some of which she drank, the rest of which she shared with the dogs. It was now around the middle of the day and the sun was quite hot. There was no shade, and the animals were soon panting. Several cars and trucks passed along the road, but their drivers paid no heed to the strangely dressed woman and the two dogs. Suddenly there was a clanging sound that made both dogs leap to their paws, and the barriers began to descend.

“Okay,” said Felicia, “let's wait until we see a suitable car, one that we can jump on to.”

“I can't jump,” whined Lug, “at least not very well.”

“This comes as no surprise,” she remarked, looking at his chunky body, “so I will help you get on board before I jump myself. Waggit will go first since he's the fastest.”

“If he's the fastest, why doesn't he go last?” complained Lug.

Waggit was beginning to find the dog's constant grumbling a little irritating, but he tried to answer him as patiently as he could.

“You see, if I'm already on the train I can help Felicia
get you on board quicker. That will give her more time to get on herself.”

“Absolutely correct, Waggit,” Felicia declared. “Now let's get ready.”

The sound of the approaching train was getting louder, and as it came into sight it blew two sharp blasts of its whistle.

“Look for a car that has enough space for the three of us to sit comfortably,” said Felicia while she secured the pack to her back.

As it came closer to the crossing the train slowed to almost walking pace. The engine groaned as it went by, straining to pull its long line of wagons. The first of these had a large cylindrical tank mounted on it that left no room for anyone, either dog or human, to sit. They waited tensely as car after car passed, each one identical to the first.

“Oh, come on,” said Felicia. “There must be something else on a train as long as this.”

But as it turned out there wasn't. After what seemed like hours the last tanker car passed, pushed by another engine at the rear.

“What rotten luck,” said Felicia. “Now we'll have to wait for the next one.”

“Why don't we walk on a little way while we're waiting?” Waggit asked, longing to get out of the sun.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” said Felicia. “We'll never get a spot better than this. It's worth waiting here. The train has to slow for both the crossing and the bend, and when the locomotive goes around the curve the engineer can't see us get on, so it's perfect. I know it's hot, but with a bit of luck we won't have to wait too long.”

Luck, however, seemed to be in short supply that day, and it was hours before the dogs' ears pricked up at the sound of the next train. By that time they were dispirited and irritable, and even Felicia's soothing influence was beginning to wear thin. Waggit actually growled at Lug when the pit bull lay down too close to him. Their mood wasn't improved any by the fact that once again the first cars on this train were tankers, but then they saw a line of boxcars that looked promising. As they rumbled past, Felicia stood back a little bit so that she could get a better look at what was coming.

“That one,” she said, pointing to a car, the doors of which were open. “That is the best.”

This train was moving faster than the previous one, but Waggit was easily able to leap aboard. He turned
to look and see how the other two were doing. Lug was lumbering along, more or less keeping up, with Felicia close behind him, although she was slowed down by the weight and size of her backpack. She bent down and grabbed the pit bull by the scruff of his neck and threw him into the car. Then her foot caught in one of the railroad ties, and with a cry of pain she fell beside the track.