A true story by
Black Dog
© Christopher Brisland, 1998
Length: approximately 26,000 words
Greetings, esteemed reader, allow me to introduce myself (I’ll use
the word-name that my human gave me, because you don’t understand our
language that well) – my name is Sam, and I am a black Labrador. My
dog-name consists of seventy-nine different scents and a whole pack
of visual information. I can trace my line right back to the first of the
wolves who shared his life with a human – the Great Wolf – his name
consisted of eighty-two scents, and I can recite them all! (There are some
dogs nowadays who try, thanks to their humans, to behave like an ‘eighty
two’ – luckily these are but a few overbred types that my human has
correctly identified as nothing more than animated shoe-brushes: small
yippy, nervous bundles of fur with teeth, that couldn’t pee five sensible
consecutive scents against a blade of grass if they tried!)
My humans have asked me to tell you the tale about how we found Ronja
and Greedy – two delightful little pups, who joined our pack a few moons
ago. I hope you’ll forgive me that so much scent and feeling gets lost
in the telling, perhaps one day you will remember how to really hear
a dog’s story, then I can tell you the legend of the Great Wolf in all
its glory. But for now, I’ve got my plate full just trying to get your
human words onto paper. Boss understands me a little bit, but every
now and then I have to put my paw on his keyboard when I think he’s
made a mistake.
My story is a true one, revered human, sad at times, but also happy
and full of adventure. It is a story that you adult humans can tell
your pups when you settle them down for their night’s rest, and it is
a story for dark and stormy nights, when the rain is splattering against
the window panes of your kennels and the wind is tearing at your roofs.
Your reading of this is a great honour; thank you revered human.
Well, my story really begins a few moons before that – that was when
my humans brought me here, but perhaps I’ll save that tale for another
day and another book... What’s that Boss? Ok, ok, I’ll get on with it!
I suppose you think it’s funny, eh? He’s trying to tell me that you
humans only want to read a short story, and that something he calls
an “editor” isn’t really interested in a long tale. The Great Wolf only
knows why, after all, we dogs just love telling long and intricate stories
full of sights and sounds, scents and colours (we’re not colour blind
in the way you think, we just see things differently – the way we need
to), taste and memories. Oh if only you’d kept your sense of telepathy
at least...
Well I suppose you can’t help yourselves – overdeveloped brains that
you hardly make use of. Anyway, my humans have asked me to tell you
this story, so here it is…
The Storm Puppies
1
Foreword
2
Contents
4
Part One – A Stormy Birth
5
Chapter 1 “Into
the world”
5
Chapter 2 “Storm
Fright”
11
Chapter 3 “Rough
Hands”
16
Chapter 4 “The
Bag”
20
Part Two – The Tortoise Hunt
22
Chapter 5 “Wandering
Rocks”
22
Chapter 6 “Of
Blankets and Hair Dryers”
25
Chapter 7 “Extra
hands needed!”
27
Chapter 8 “Farewell”
32
Chapter 9 “Hope
Dawns”
35
Chapter 10 “Clues”
38
Part Three – Growing Up
41
Chapter 11 “The
Great Wolf’s Last Call”
41
Chapter 12 “Over
the Worst”
45
Chapter 13 “Boomer’s
Message”
49
Chapter 14 “Seeing
the World as it is”
52
Chapter 15 “First
Explorations”
57
Chapter 16 “The
Storyteller”
61
Chapter 17 “Janni
Thalassinos”
70
Chapter 18 “A
Plan Is Hatched”
75
Part Four – Xanthia
78
Chapter 19 “The
Search”
78
Chapter 20 “The
Puppies’ Birthplace”
83
Chapter 21 “All’s
Well That Ends Well”
90
»Very well, my dears, let’s
just go through it one more time… what are you?«
»We’re puppies mummy!« chorused five unborn minds.
»And what is the first thing
you must do when you are born?«
»Follow our noses to your
teats and drink MILK – yippee!« again the
five-fold chorus.
One of the unborn minds added, »LOTS
OF MILK!«
»Hmm,
yes. Well we shall see about that you little fidget. You’re number three,
so don’t push! Now don’t forget – it will be a couple of weeks before
you can use your outside senses properly, so don’t crawl too far away
because I won’t be able to fetch you back.«
The bitch was happy. Her pregnancy had gone well so far and the five
young ones she carried inside her had learnt well. Their birth was only
a few moments away now. She had done everything possible to explain
the procedure to her youngsters, and what they could expect from their
lives in the coming weeks and months.
(Oh, excuse me butting in,
revered reader, but I think I should add an explanation here – we storytellers
like to butt in sometimes – we are on the Aegean island Kos – probably
the most beautiful in the Dodecanese group. The animals here don’t have
such a bad life – under the circumstances,
that is! The bitch in our story is typical of the many dogs that are kept on the
island: she’s a working girl, which means she spends most of her life
chained up. When the hunting season begins, she will probably have a
few days when she can chase rabbits or pheasants. After that… well it’s
back on the chain! She is one of the lucky ones though; she has a wooden
kennel and three metres of chain. Many of the dogs here have to make
do with an old oil barrel, or less, and one can quite often see dogs
on shorter chains. But at least they all get fed regularly and have
plenty of company – fleas, ticks and worms! Most of you revered readers
would consider the Greek ways barbaric, but the humans that live her
consider it “normal”. At least the dogs in our story can look forward
to a relatively safe life when compared to that of the strays, who can
only hope for survival through the help of the tourists. Anyway, back
to the story…)
»Right then, my little ones,
it’s time!« She felt the contractions starting.
It was time to go inside her kennel, where she had prepared a ‘nest’
for her young ones. The first puppy was born a few moments later. “Well
done, my little one, you’ve made it. Welcome to life.” She licked the
remnants of the amniotic sac away and bit through the tiny umbilical
cord so that the young one was free to make his way to the waiting teat.
A gentle nudge with her nose set the pup in motion.
“Oof, what was that for, mummy? Let me rest a little – that was hard
work.”
[ii]
“Everything is fine, my child, you can sleep in a little while. But
first you must find your way to the milk – I thought I told you many
times...”
“All right, all right, I’m on my way!” The small black pup pulled himself
together, lifted his nose and sniffed. »How did it go now? Draw in AIR through the nose and... Aha! That nice
warm smell must be MILK! Now let’s see... these things at the end of
my legs must be my paws. Command paws to move in the direction of the
smell and let body follow... repeat the action... once more... sniff,
sniff – nearly there – aha, soft fur! Scramble – phew, it’s harder than
I thought!« “Can’t you help me a bit, mummy?”
“You’re doing quite well by yourself little one. Keep going! I’ve got
to see to your brothers and sisters. Not much further now – that’s fine.”
The
small wet bundle of fur scrambled on its way. It was only a few more
inches and very soon he was snuggled up to his mother’s belly, suckling
greedily on one of her teats. Less than an hour later his four brothers
and sisters had joined him and now they were all drinking, snuggled
up warm and comfortable in their mother’s furry embrace. She looked
down at her litter and took stock.
»Now then, let me see. Three
black ones with a few white hairs on chest and paws – that was most
likely that big black dog from down the way. Or was it that new boy
who helps look after the sheep that pass by here occasionally? No, it
couldn’t have been. He was too late, or was he? The small reddish one?
That must have been Asprouli. He can be quite a nuisance when I’m on
heat! The one on row three? Oh yes, third one out and in quite a hurry
she was too! From her shape, I’d say that she looks like that black
and tan tramp from down the way, but she’s got my fur colouring – very
pretty.« “Slow down number three or you’ll choke…” »Ouch, too late.
Great Danes, but she’s got sharp little teeth!”
[iii]
“Mmmf,
glerk, sorry mummy. Yummy stuff this, can I have another teatful please,
this one’s empty…”
“No, you’ve had enough for now my dear. Why don’t you just snuggle
up and get some sleep. There’ll be plenty more for you in a while.”
“Ooh, but I’m hungry!”
“No buts, it’s time for sleep!”
The little blonde bundle of fur grumbled for a few moments more and
then huddled up to her brothers and sisters. »Well at least it’s nice and cuddly here… Yaaaawn.« She stretched
herself once more, pushing her tubby little black brother out of the
pile. Then she wriggled her way under a red-furred bundle and within
seconds she was snoring a two-hour-old puppy wheeze. Moments later she
was dreaming of chasing rabbits – she hadn’t seen one yet, but her mother
had taught the puppies all about the hunt and she was looking forward
to her first chase.
“OY!”, “Gerroffomenose!”, “Getcherpawsoutermyear!”, “zzzzzzzz”
[iv]
The bitch prodded the wriggling bundles of fur with her long nose.
A few licks with her tongue soon settled the young ones, and after a
few more wet caresses, they all settled down to sleep. Now she could
relax at last – the time for theory lessons was over. Her puppies had
all arrived safe and well into their new lives; now it was time for
them to learn the practical things in life. She looked down at her litter
once more before settling down into a contented sleep.
Number three may have been still, but she was thinking of the delicious
warm milk. Carefully, so as not to disturb the others, she eased herself
out of the pile of sleeping puppies. »Good, they’re all sleeping!« She wriggled her way across the floor
of the kennel, carefully avoiding contact with her mother or her brothers
and sisters. It didn’t matter yet that she could not see, her nose served
her better than a magnet searching for the North Pole. »Carefully does it now! I must remember what mummy said about not biting.
Ah! There it is…« very carefully, she closed her mouth over the
teat and begun to suck greedily.
The bitch was thinking happy thoughts and dreaming of the legends where
dogs lived in fine houses with kind masters who fed them on delicious
meat and crunchy biscuity things. Of course these were only furry tales
that the travelling storyteller told, but it was nice to dream of a
warm home with soft sleeping nests and no chains around your neck…
Her “OUCH!” was followed immediately by a chorus of tiny squeaks as
her five puppies were scattered to the corners of the kennel by her
jumping up. “I told you to go to sleep! Grrr… there’ll be time for another
snack later! All right my little ones, it was just number three being
a nuisance. Settle down again.”
[v]
A loud crashing noise roused the family and light so bright that even
the puppies closed eyes could perceive illuminated the inside of the
kennel.
Five frightened little voices piped up as one, “Mummy, mummy! What’s
happening?”
[vi]
“There’s nothing to worry about, my children, it is only a thunderstorm.
If you check through the memories I passed on to you, you’ll see what
I mean. Listen to that drumming noise – that’s the rain falling on our
roof. It’s nothing much to worry about – you’re warm and dry in here
with me.”
The little red-haired one piped up, “What about that other noise, mummy?
The one that sounds like howling?”
“That is the wind. In a few days, when your noses have learnt some
more about smells, you will find that the wind is your friend. It will
bring you all the news – especially from other dogs in the neighbourhood.
And if you learn well, then you will even be able to read the weather
on the wind. Now don’t worry any more and sleep on, my little ones.”
Blind faith is a wonderful thing for all young animals, and when mother
says everything is fine, then it must be so. But the mother had read
the wind, and the news it had brought her was not good: the rain, that
had been falling on and off for the past few days, was building up in
strength and the coming storm was going to be hard on them. She knew that if the
rain kept up her owner would not bring food for her and the other dogs
chained up nearby. That didn’t matter much to the two Alsatians, they
were big males, but she had five hungry mouths to worry about. She sighed
stoically and wrapped herself protectively around her twelve-hour-old
litter.
Outside heavy clouds settled low over the mountain and deposited unimaginable
masses of water on the rocky slopes. The rain fell so heavily, that
the earth did not have time to soak up the falling torrents. Lightning
flashed continuously, giving the sky a purple glow. It was a storm that
the mother dog had never experienced first hand. Nor did any of the
memories passed down from previous generations carry information about
such a storm.
[vii]
The new day dawned – if you could call it a dawn. The rain was a solid
vertical sheet of water outside the kennel. The wind grew stronger,
and inside the kennel, the dogs heard debris being thrown against the
walls by gusts of up to a hundred miles an hour. The puppies huddled
up to the safety and security of their mother’s warm fur and slept,
despite the thundering, crashing and howling outside their home.
The mother dog ventured outside a few times to relieve herself during
the course of the day and to watch for her owner, but still he didn’t
come. The hunger inside her was growing and she hoped that the weather
would let up soon so that she could eat. Without food she would soon
lose her milk; her puppies would starve. She might even have to kill
one or more of them, so that the others could survive.
During one of her afternoon outings she saw a chicken that had been
killed by some wind-blown debris, but as she lunged for it a strong
gust of wind swept the potential meal away. The chicken came to rest
against a tree trunk just feet away
[viii]
. Yet no matter how hard she tried, her chain was
too short, the tasty morsel stayed out of reach. Then she turned her
attention to the stake that held her chain. Her efforts were in vain;
her owner had hammered the metal rod so firmly into the hard ground
that there was not the slightest chance for her to free herself. The
rain continued to fall incessantly. The thin trickle of water, that
had begun to flow past her kennel the previous morning, was growing
into a threatening torrent. Shaking as much excess water from her fur
as possible, she returned to her babies.
She ventured out once more as the dark overcast of the day gave way
the only slighter dark of the night, but the water level had risen so
much that the kennel appeared to be standing in the middle of a river.
It was fortunate for the dogs that the kennel had been constructed on
a raised platform otherwise they would be lying in the water now. Still
their owner didn’t come. Her energy reserves were waning rapidly. She
sniffed the wind to appraise the situation, »More
rain.« she thought to herself. »Well
at least I only have to pop my head out through the opening for a drink.«
It was fortunate for her that she couldn’t see what was happening upon
the slopes above. Thousands upon thousands of gallons of water were
being funnelled down the many gullies and erosion scars. As the smaller
rivulets flowed towards the sea, they met with others and joined forces.
These then met similar streams to become rivers – on an island where
rivers as such are unknown. Rifts in the terrain, caused by earthquakes
in years gone by, flooded and channelled the waters seawards. One such
rift was currently funnelling a tidal wave of rock and debris laden
waters directly onto the level grounds above the kennel. The less turbulent
waters that surrounded the kennel were merely the spearhead troops,
sent ahead of an advancing army, with the sole task of weakening the
kennel’s defences
[ix]
.
“Mummy, I’m cold and hungry!” squalled the tubby black puppy. “Me too,
me too!” chimed the others in agreement. The roaring and thundering
outside was now so loud, that it was becoming quite impossible to hear
what the puppies were calling out. The mother licked her young as reassuringly
as she could, “Don’t worry my young ones. This is the cold season of
the year. It often rains cats and rats when the days are shorter. But
they have been getting longer now for some time. The cold eye of the
night is closing for the second time since that shortest day. The burning
eye of the day will soon be so hot, that you will dream of the cool
shade. Besides, the wind will run out of breath very soon now – he cannot
howl forever. The storm will be over very soon now.” »I am glad that their eyes are closed and that
they are so young. I do not like what I see and I fear for our lives.«
Although the sky was dark, she could sense the moon. It would be setting
soon, and the golden globe of the sun would surely defeat the storm
at last. Sure enough, she could sense that the clouds were no longer
as thick as they had been. The storm was abating.
But the weather still had a final trump card to play. One last hundred
mile an hour gust of wind accompanied the approaching torrent. The waters
had already loosened the stakes anchoring the kennel during the past
hour. The kennel met this double onslaught of wind and water with much
the same effect of a fly meeting the windscreen of a car speeding along
the fast lane of a motorway. It was as if the gods had decided to play
“Yahtzee”
[x]
; the pups were the dice and the kennel was the shaker.
The mother dog could do nothing to save her young ones – her chain was
the only thing to resist the efforts of the storm. One moment she was
inside the kennel, cowering protectively around her litter, the next...
it was as if an invisible hand had plucked her by the collar and thrown
her away.
Barely seconds had passed. Suddenly the clouds broke and a shaft of
sunlight speared the plot of land where the kennel had once stood. Mud
and debris covered the ground over a large area. Trees that had provided
shade during the hot summer months now stood at strangely drunken angles
[xi]
. The two neighbouring dogs had been more fortunate
than the bitch now lying unmoving at the end of her chain. As for the
kennel with the pups, it had come to rest, entrance open to the sky,
up against the same tree that had snagged the chicken the previous afternoon.
Rain still fell, but with barely a fraction of the vehemence of just
a few moments ago. One of the neighbouring dogs eyed the scene with
dismay, “Wake up, wake up!” he barked at the unconscious bitch. To no
avail.
“Mummy, mummy! Where are you?” Not even the frightened pups’ crying
could arouse her out of the depths of her unconsciousness. Inside the
ruins of the kennel, the little ones were quite literally up to their
necks in water. The floor was tilted at a crazy angle, spilling everything
inside down into a corner. Fortunately one of planks, which had formed
part of the wall, had been wrenched loose by the tumbling and the water
would not get any deeper.
It was the reddish-haired one who now appraised the situation, “Mummy
can’t hear us. Let’s try to remember what she taught us to do in emergencies!
Listen you four – we must try to keep warm. We’ll have to take turns
trying to keep dry too. You two small ones – scramble up onto the rest
of us and try to shake some of the water from your fur. After that we’ll
take it in turns, three down, two up with one of the small ones always
out of the water. OK?”
[xii]
It was a considerable effort for the two smallest puppies to scramble
up onto the shoulders of the others, but somehow they made it. The red-haired
pup was in control now and made sure that the others all took their
turns in the water.
“Come on, move it, move it! No slacking! Oof – you’re a right tubby
one, number one. Doesn’t matter if you're tired, just move your backside
now! Just you lot wait till I get my eyes open – I’ll show you who’s
the alpha around here!”
The two neighbouring dogs had followed the little pups’ words, “That’s
the stuff! Keep it up – we’ll bark as loud as we can so that our owner
can’t fail to hear us. Don’t worry, the rain is stopping.”
Sure enough, the storm had abated and the rising sun was burning the
cloud cover away. It was not long before only a few scattered cumulus
clouds remained in the sky above. Although their voices were becoming
hoarser, the two neighbouring dogs continued to bark with all their
strength. A hundred yards away a door slammed. Footsteps could be heard
approaching the ruins of the dog’s ‘settlement’.
[xiii]
“Bloody animals! Your barking is enough to wake the dead! Can’t you
manage even one day without food?” Then the man noticed the destruction
and the unconscious bitch lying in the mud. “Shit! My best hunting dog.
Another bloody vet’s bill that I can’t afford! I just hope you weren’t
stupid enough to break any bones...” He bent down to examine the dog,
“Hmm, nothing that a towel can’t cure, but I s’pose I’d better take
you to the vet to make sure.” Then he turned his attention to the kennel
lying upturned against the fig tree, “Your kennel can wait till later
though.”
None too gently he released the chain around the bitch’s neck and heaved
her up. Heading towards his house, he suddenly heard tiny whimpering
noises from the wreckage of the kennel and a splash of something falling
into water. Dumping his dog unceremoniously in the mud, he peered into
the kennel,
[xiv]
“Well I’ll be damned! And I thought you were getting
fatter. It’s no darn wonder that the diet wasn’t helping.” He counted
the pitiful bundles of fur, “Five little bastards – stupid dog, I’ve
got no time for mongrels. It’s just as well that they’re as good as
dead, I can dump them on the way to that blood-sucking vitnery!”
He looked around – a blue plastic bag was lying nearby, “Just the job!”
The pups could hardly move, and even if they had been able to, the
strong hands that plucked them from the water and dumped them into the
blue plastic bag were too strong. Well at least they were drier here...
[xv]
“Hey kids, look out!” barked the German Sheep-dog tethered to the olive
tree, “Don’t forget what you learnt! Number one rule – where there’s
life, there’s hope...” then the bag closed over their heads.
Carrying the unconscious dog and the plastic bag, the man now continued
on his way to where his car was parked. A few moments later the pups
felt their world begin to vibrate and strange growling noises penetrated
through the plastic bag. After a few minutes of this shaking the world
steadied again. Then they heard a cranking noise accompanied by the
sound of glass sliding against rubber. Although the memories passed
on to them by their mother could identify the sound as that of a car
window being opened, it meant nothing to them until the bag was suddenly
hurled with great force through the now open car window. For a few seconds
they felt weightlessness, then the bag landed in the deep grass with
a thump
[xvi]
.
It was the red-furred alpha who recovered first. “Listen well you lot,
try to remember what mummy taught us about plastic bags – I think we’re
inside one right now.”
The others were too tired and weak to trawl through their memories,
but the alpha remembered – and she was frightened…
[xvii]
»Children« she
had told them, »the human that
owns us is not a kind man. Be careful when he is around. If he should
ever put you into a plastic bag,« she planted the image of one of
the thousands of blue plastic shopping bags that littered the countryside
into their minds, »then you are in terrible danger. Whatever
you do, you must try to remain calm and remember the rule: “Where there
is life there is hope”. Never forget that rule my children, it may save
your lives one day. Our human masters are cruel to us – I don’t know
why. Perhaps our ancient ancestors did something to harm them and we
have to suffer. It is not a kind world that you will be born into, but
you must live. Perhaps one day one of you will be the dog that makes
humans understand…«
Then she had told them the legend of how the ancients had prophesied
that one day a great dog would be born, a dog who would be able to speak
to humans in a way that they understood. It was the most famous legend
amongst dogs and it gave them all hope that one day all animals, not
just dogs – although the canine race had the right of closest contact
between the animal and the human worlds – would be able to live with
humans in friendship and harmony.
»…so you see, my children,« she had finished off the tale,
»it could be one of you that finds the way to make humans understand.
That is why you must always hang on to life – it is not just for you,
but for dogs everywhere.«
“So
what,” grumbled the fat, black-furred male, “just get me out of here!
I want my mummy, I’m hungry...”
The other two black-furred puppies joined in the chorus, “Me too, me
too!”
“Shut up you three!” This came from their light coloured sister, “Remember
what that big dog barked a moment ago – where there’s life there’s hope.
I remember what it was now about plastic bags – they’re supposed to
be very dangerous if you get trapped inside one. Mother told us that
we should stay quiet and calm.”
“That’s right,” continued her red-furred sister, “we should stay quiet
and save air, otherwise we’ll fall asleep and never wake up again.”
It grew quieter inside the bag, but the three black puppies continued
to wriggle despite the urgings from their lighter coloured sisters.
The air grew hotter and stuffier and the puppies weaker. Pretty soon
it was still on the meadow – the blue plastic bag became just one more
of several thousand that litter virtually all tourist resorts world-wide.
Suddenly there was the rustling of approaching paws. A large black
nose sniffed and nudged the bag... “Heeelp! Let us out of here!”
[xviii]
(A Soggy Dog Story)
It was the second outing of the day, some one and a half moons after
the shortest day of the year; the burning eye in the sky was rising
earlier every day and I could sense that warmer weather would not be
long in coming. The first walk had been quite interesting by the way
– the wind had carried the sounds of dogs barking a long way away: it
sounded like a pair of dogs barking loudly for their owner to come –
something about a sleeping mother and babies. Unfortunately the sound
was so faint that I couldn’t quite catch the full drift of what they
were on about. I just put it down to a couple of neurotic Greek chain-dogs
complaining about the bad weather over the past few days. There was
the scent of death in the air that I identified as rats, snakes, chickens
and so on – the wind had done quite a bit of damage! But that’s the
way it is: one life disappears so that another can take its’ place.
I was just trotting along, merrily minding my own business and following
the grumblings of old “Barker” down the valley
[xix]
– he’d got his chain in a tangle again, when I caught
the scent of one of those strange little rocks with legs, you know:
the ones that hiss and smell of poorly digested grass...
What’s that Boss? Oh sorry, you’ll have to forgive me, you call them
“tortoises” – I’d never come across them before we arrived here on the
island. Devilishly interesting things these, er, tortoises. It takes
a cunning nose to track them down in three acres of meadow. Very subtle
smell – makes good tracking practice! Besides which, they’re awfully
quick if you don’t watch yourself – here one moment, gone the next –
whoosh!
The trail I was following now was that of a “tortoise” I’d spotted
just a minute before. If the boss hadn’t distracted me, I’d have caught
it with its’ legs up, but no, I had to look and see what Boss wanted
and when I turned back – gone
[xx]
! At least five hundred yards away now, according
to the scent! Suddenly there was a new scent in the air – a mixture
of human and dog. Closer investigation of the smell told me that it
was not just an any-dog smell, but a suffering-dog smell. This needed
following up right away! Twenty trotting paces further on, I spotted
one of those blue plastic bags that are so common here, lying directly
in my path. Perhaps I could note that for later – maybe it’s got a few
nice rotting bones inside that I can snaffle before the boss notices?
But first I had to follow up the suffering smell…
To my surprise, the scent trail took me directly to that bag. Although
it didn’t move, my nose told me that this bag was the source of the
suffering-dog smell. Sniff, listen, nudge – HEY! It moved! Suddenly
the bag was filled with a squeaking, wriggling commotion. Although it
was tightly tied, there was a small tear, which let a very saddening
scent out. I can smell five puppies in this bag! Not more than thirty-six
hours old at a guess. Not only that, one of them’s a seventy-eight! This
calls for swift action Sam! First things first: dig through memories
passed down from my dam and the generations before. Plastic bags: danger
– air – breathing – asphyxiation... “Hang on in there, you’ve been found.
Stop wriggling and crying - you need all the air you have left. I’ll
have you out of there in a wag of a tail.”
Now you can probably see the advantage you humans have over us dogs
– hands! My paws aren’t up to undoing knots and I’m afraid to use my
teeth for fear of hurting the little ones. »Hey
Boss! Over here, quick!« The scent is getting weaker; if Boss doesn’t
hurry it’ll bee too late. There’s barely nay sign of life left. »HEY BOSS!«
Oh Chihuahua! You humans can be quite deaf at times. My shouts could
be heard by just about every living creatures within a days trot, and
all that the Boss can do is look lamely and say, “What’s up Sam, found
another tortoise?” Oh Pekinese, I’d forgot that you couldn’t hear thoughts
any more. I took up my ‘Hey look, I’ve found something’ posture instead.
At last! I’d managed to draw his attention. I think he finally realised
that this was more serious than usual. As he finally approached, I nudged
the bag again. “Come on little ones, one more wriggle and squeak, we’ll
have you out in a moment.”
Now
that really got the boss’ attention – the bag was open in seconds. Oh
dear! The smell that came out was worse than I’d hoped. I knew straight
away that it was indeed five puppies. Thirty-six hours old, and although
I could smell that they’d fed at their mother’s teats, they hadn’t had
milk for several hours. They were very hungry and very wet. What’s more,
they were suffering from severe hypothermia. On further examination
I could see that there were three black ones (two boys and a girl),
a blondish girl and a reddish girl. The black ones had stopped moving,
we were just minutes too late. But the other two were wriggling and
squeaking enough for five, “Well done girls, you’ve made it! You’re
safe now.”
I’ll say one thing for Boss now: when he clicks on to something important
he can act fast. Taking the wriggling ones in his left hand and the
bag in his right, he headed for home at a pace I’d never realised was
within his abilities. I even had to exert myself beyond a trot to keep
up with him!
[xxi]
There was an even bigger surprise for us when we arrived home: Boss’s
lurching jog-trot had miraculously revived the three black pups! I would
have to give them a thorough examination as soon as the chance arose...
I could have laughed if only the situation weren’t so serious. My humans
were running around like chickens with a fox in the coop. It was quite
an effort to push a simple thought in their direction, but in the end
I think they understood: WARMTH!
Er, that wasn’t quite how I meant it boss! Would you believe it? Took
MY blanket and wrapped the little ones up in it! Oh well, I could forgive
him later, at least I had a chance now to give the little ones a ‘once
over’. The little red one will make it for sure, the blonde one too.
As for the three black ones, I’m afraid it doesn’t look too good for
them. “Hey boss, the tubby little black one’s having a fit!” I woofed
at him He reacted promptly, picked her up and began to rub the tiny
chest. It seemed a strange thing to do, but blowing into her nose was
even stranger yet, although it seemed to do the trick
[xxii]
. I continued to sniff the little ones, it really
was a sorry picture – I could see that the black ones had suffered a
lot of brain damage. If they don’t get well in the next few days I shall
have to bite them to death myself. “More warmth boss!”
It was then that I remembered mistress’s strange behaviour every morning,
when she did odd things with her hair. That small buzzing thing would
be just the thing: »Hey Boss,
why don’t you try that buzzing rock thing, the one with the hot breath?«
I shouted at him with my mind.
“I’ve just had an idea,“ said my human, “Bianca, why don’t you go and
fetch your hair-dryer –that should do the trick.”
»Well done Boss, keep it up,
your learning!«
They blew warm air over the puppies for the next hour or so
[xxiii]
, taking it in turns to rub the puppies dry. The black
ones were in a poor state! Every now and then one of them would have
a seizure and go stiff, but each time Boss massaged the tiny chest and
blew into the little one’s nose.
In the meantime, Andrea and Lakis, friends of my humans, had arrived
to give whatever assistance they could – they have a lot of animals:
dogs, cats, goats, chickens, turkeys and more. The little tubby black
pup had to be revived a few more times, but in the end and I heard the
Great Wolf call, »Have no fear, youngster! Come hunt with me
and leave your life force with the others.« The little black one
fell into his final sleep »Farewell
little one.« I added »At least
you departed warm and loved.«
I hadn’t been following the humans’ conversation to closely, so it
was a surprise when they suddenly took the puppies and left me alone
with barely a “We’ll be back in a moment.” How on earth could I help
if I weren’t nearby? Where were they going? Surely they weren’t going
to put the little ones down now, after all their efforts? I had to wait
three quarters of an hour, before I knew for sure. They had brought
the four survivors back, and my nose told me straight away that they
had been to see the vet. The little blonde one had recovered quite a
bit and was coherent enough to fill me in with some of the details.
She told me that they had been put into another car – the sound reminded
them of their dreadful journey a few hours ago, and they had been terribly
frightened. But after a while, another, strange smelling, human had
picked them up, prodded them all over and stroked them. That would have
been the vet, I told her. Then he had put them back onto the blanket
and spoken quietly with our humans for a while. She couldn’t quite make
out what had been said, but she remembered something about sleep, needles
and no pain.
[xxiv]
Now I know Janni quite well – he’s one of the nicest Greek humans I
know, despite his sharp needles and horrible tasting pills. It was no
problem to rhyme the rest of the story together now. He probably advised
my humans that it would be better to put the little ones out of their
misery. The injection would put them painlessly to sleep. Sounds terrible,
but I know Janni and he would only use the sleep injection as a last
kindness. Besides, he knows humans quite well too and he surely knew
that my humans would not allow him to put the puppies down if there
was even the slightest chance of their survival.
So now the puppies were home. Four damp bundles of fur, protesting
their hunger in the way that only babies know how – what a noise! Dog-star
only knows how we will manage to feed them all; there isn’t a mother
dog’s teat in the house. »Hey
humans, don’t you know that these young ones are hungry? They need a
mother’s teat and lots of milk! Dog-milk, not the stuff you feed your
human babies on, far too much copper in it – that’s poison for their
tiny livers. Perhaps you could find a friendly cow or goat...« But
my humans’ behaviour is strange, instead of going out and looking for
a cow or a goat, Boss takes a can out of the cupboard. »Hey Boss, they’re far too young for canned
meat! They need MILK!« You humans can be real exasperating at times.
»So now the little ones are going to be fed
on meat – just you wait and see: they won’t eat it!«
How wrong can one be? And I thought that only meat came in tins – canned
milk? Wonderful invention! It’s no wonder that you humans have managed
to take over the world. Fancy being able to convince cows to patiently
squirt their milk into these tins. »Smells
good, can I have a taste please boss?«
Boss shoved my nose to one side, “Take your nose away Sam – this is
for the babies.”
[xxv]
I realised that, but I had to make sure, didn’t I.
Then the mistress took some milk and warmed it up. I had some difficulty
getting it through to her that dogs are warmer than humans are, but
she got it right in the end – temperature was just right. But how were
they going to feed the puppies? The only thing they’re really good at,
at the moment, is suckling, and I can’t see a teat anywhere.
Wonders never cease - you humans are really quite inventive when you
want to be! We dogs don’t usually pay much attention to human things,
unless they’re edible that is. But now I was confronted with another
wonder: Boss took a hard smelling thing and dipped it in the warm milk.
Then he pulled on one end and the thing stretched, sucking milk up inside
it. It dawned on me that this thing looked like one of those sharp pricky
things that the vet uses, but this one didn’t have a point.
[xxvi]
Were they going to inject the milk into the babies?
How could the little ones suckle on such a hard thing? Imagine my astonishment
when I saw Boss hold that hard thing up to the blonde puppy’s mouth
– he was going to pump her full of milk! But it seemed to work sure
enough. Boss seemed to anticipate the little one’s efforts and let her
have just a little bit at a time. My mistress was feeding one of the
black ones with the same effect and Andrea was comforting the others
who were still huddled in their blanket, waiting for some food. I’m
proud that I chose these humans; they’re doing a good job. Now let’s see how they
manage the next bit...
Oh, dear! You humans are none too adept at puppy care, are you? »You’re supposed to lick the little one’s tummy
until the leftovers come out.« Every good mother dog will tell you
that the next thing you have to do is to eat the mess up. The little
ones aren’t strong enough for walkies yet, and if you don’t take care,
then the den will soon be paw-deep in baby crap! »Oops!
Nice one Blondie – right in Boss’ lap!« I can’t bear to watch, »Move over Boss, it’s time for a professional
to get down to business!« – lick, lick, lick – »There you go! Clean!«
[xxvii]
»Hey! That tickles…Buuurrrp,
oof, I needed that, thank you.«
“Sam! Do you mind?”
»What do mean Boss? It’s not
disgusting – tastes quite pleasant really. You should try it – full
of undigested milk-proteins, nothing at all like the real excrement
they’ll be dumping in a few weeks, but they’ll be big enough to go outside
then.«
Boss and mistress seemed a bit surprised at my behaviour, but pretty
soon they cottoned on. Very soon we were operating like a well organised
pack; Boss, mistress and Andrea fed the puppies while I did the ‘mother’
bit. The two black puppies were still terribly poorly, but at least
I could sense that they realised that someone was trying to help them.
As for the other two, the little red-furred girl was grumbling away
at the others…
»Keep it up you three! Come
on, I know you’re tired but you must feed. Remember what mummy told
us…«
Only little Blondie was in any fit state to reply, I could hear her
tiny thoughts: »Hungry, tired,
scared, where’s mummy and where are her teats? Don’t want this hard
thing in my mouth…«
Now that Boss, mistress and Andrea had managed to feed the little ones
it was time to give them a chance to rest, and hopefully to regain some
strength. Looking back on those first few hours I am still surprised
at Boss’ inventiveness. Pretty soon he had rigged up a nice warm lamp
on that three legged thing he usually puts his camera on. My blanket
made a good bed for the babies because it smelled of dog and the pups
were reassured by the smell, even though it wasn’t their mother’s.
[xxviii]
Every few minutes Boss or mistress would peer into their bed. I could
see that they were worried, but there was nothing they could do for
now – the little ones had had a hard morning. Rest would help.
After about an hour Mistress began to warm up some more milk. Andrea
had gone by now, she had to help Lakis look after their own animals,
but Boss had reassured them that we could manage now. While mistress
was warming the milk, I checked the pups once more. All four were terribly
weak; they would need plenty of warmth and milk. But it was the two
black ones that caused me the most concern. Although Boss and mistress
had managed to dry them off and feed them a little, I could not detect
any thoughts. The blonde girl was grumbling in her sleep about being
hungry and the little red one was dreaming about the storm last night
and her efforts to keep the others to take turns at drying off a little.
While I listened to her tiny thoughts spiralling around in her mind
I began to fill in the picture of what had happened in the past day
and a half – that was how I managed to piece the story of their birth
together.
While my humans were giving the pups their second feed, Pit the cat
came in. He had been hiding in the spare room – the commotion had been
too much for him. Now he looked at mistress feeding the little red-furred
puppy, »Mreaow! What on earth is that?« I was
about to tell him, but he waved his tail at me in annoyance, »Don’t bother to tell me, I can see full well
what they are! More dogs! Give you all half a chance and you’ll be chasing
around the house like a pack of banshees. How long are they staying?«
I explained what had happened that morning. Grudgingly, Pit hopped
up onto the arm of the sofa and sniffed at the bedraggled bundle of
fur in Boss’ hands
[xxix]
»Mreaow, well I suppose that’s different then.
Do you know if they’ve caught the human that did this yet?« Typical
cat, I thought to myself, ‘revenge first and then let’s care for the
living’. I told him that I’d keep my nose to the ground, but first we
must help the youngsters. »They
seem to be doing well enough for now, just keep your eye on them and
call me if there’s any milk left over – I’m back off to the balcony
for a snooze in the sun, I’ll be around if you need me…« That’s
Pit for you! He knew in his mind that everything was under control,
but I was still worried. The afternoon dragged on…
Suddenly I heard the call of the Great Wolf in my mind! I jumped up
and trotted over to where Boss was blowing into one of the black puppies’
nose and massaging the tiny chest. Tears were streaming down mistress’
face, but I knew that when the Great Wolf calls we must go. An ancient
voice came into my mind, »Have
no fear, youngster! Come hunt with me and leave your life force with
the others.« I licked mistress’ hand, »It’s
alright, mistress, she’s gone to a better place and given her strength
to the others. The Great Wolf is taking care of her now.«
Boss tried to revive the little one for another ten minutes, but it
was to no avail. She had fallen into the endless sleep. Gently, he wrapped
the tiny bundle of fur in some paper towelling, packed the tiny bundle
in a small box and went outside. A few minutes later he returned – he
had buried her in the garden. »Farewell,
little one, and good hunting…«
All through the night Boss and mistress took turns at staying awake
to watch over the puppies. Then, just before dawn, I heard the little
blonde pup begin to squall, »I’m
hungry!« There was no need for me to wake Boss; he was already pottering
around with a pan of milk. Gently he picked little Blondie out of the
basket and held the plastic thing full of milk to her small snout.
»Grmf, slurp. C’mon – faster!
I want more…«
[xxx]
“Steady on little one! Don’t suck so hard, you’ll swallow the syringe…
take it easy now.” There was a smile of relief on Boss’ face as he nudged
mistress awake. “Hey, Bianca, I think this little one’s found her appetite
at last – just look at her go! Twenty CCs gone – just like that!” Mistress
was smiling too now, as they fed the other two.
“Do you think we can start thinking about names for them now that they
are over the worst?” she asked.
Boss didn’t say anything for a while. Instead, one at a time, he put
the little ones onto the weighing thing that he uses when he’s measuring
out flour and things when he wants to bake a cake. Then he wrote something in his notebook. After a
while, he spoke, “Let’s not get our hopes up just yet. They’ve managed
to keep their weight through the night and they are starting to take
to the milk. Remember what the vet said: they’ll be in a critical condition
for at least two or three days – let’s wait until Sunday morning at
least.”
Mistress sighed and nodded. She stood up and went over to the window.
Drawing the curtains back, she looked at the horizon where the sun would
be rising soon. A pale golden glow was already showing over the hills.
“Well we have managed to pull them through the night, surely that’s
a good sign?” Boss nodded. Just then the first rays of the sun broke
over the horizon throwing long shadows along the mountainside and lighting
the few scattered clouds with a warm and golden glow.
Even Pit stretched and decided that the rising sun was worth a second
glance. »Mreaow, sun’s up, I see – time for some breakfast!« he hopped
down from the armchair, where he had been sleeping, and strolled over
to his food bowl. As he passed the puppies’ basket, he paused and sniffed,
»Made it through the night then? Well done little ones – keep it up.«
»Is that you, mummy?« came a plaintive thought from under the blanket.
I trotted over to have a look. The little red-furred one was exploring
her bed with her nose, I gave her a reassuring lick, »No, that was Pit
the cat. Your mother will have told you about cats, but you needn’t
worry about him, now try to rest some more, I’ll be going outside soon
– perhaps I can find some news of your mother.« She snuggled up against
her blonde sister and was soon fast asleep again. I took the chance
now to examine the three pups once more. The two girls were dreaming
of chasing rabbits – now that was a good clue, their mother must have
been a hunting dog. Maybe old Barker knew something, I’d ask him later,
when Boss takes me out for our morning walk. But the little male was
still a worrying sight – I still couldn’t feel any thoughts in his mind,
but he was still breathing – the Great Wolf hadn’t called him yet.
I remembered my own mother’s teaching. I had been born into a litter
with nine other brothers and sisters. »Young
ones,« she had instructed us, »one
day you girls will likely have litters of your own and you boys could
have a bitch to look after. Sometimes we mother dogs don’t have good
masters, and we aren’t given enough food when our puppies are growing.
Or perhaps one of your babes is sick. When that happens, you will have
to kill one of the little ones…« That news had worried me at first
– there I had been, not even born, and mother was already talking about
biting puppies to death. But her words were reassuring, »Do
not worry if you have to do this. It is what the Great Wolf would do.
I will show you haw to bite quick, so that it won’t hurt. And when you
do do it, all will be well… the dead one’s spirit will join with the
rest of your litter and strengthen them so that they might survive.
It is our way.«
Mother had gone on to show us the special bite and then she showed
us how the spirit of the dead one would join forces with the others
in its litter. It was a good way, and the two black puppies from this
litter that the Great Wolf had already taken had left their strength
behind to help these three bundles of fur that now snored gently under
my nose. I checked the black one once more – I knew that I could bite
him in ‘that way’ if the time came, but for now he was still alive and
his body was surviving. If only I could detect some thoughts…
Boss and mistress finished feeding the three little ones and held them
out, one at a time, for me to lick clean. That’s one of the advantages
of licking a puppy’s mess up, by the way, a mother dog can taste just
how well her pup’s digestion is working. Being a dog, it was a bit more
difficult for me, but I was still young enough to remember mother’s
teaching and I could tell that Red and Greedy were all right; Wriggler
was still worrying me though – still no sign of any coherent thoughts,
even though he was fidgeting around on the blanket.
Oh yes, I had already given them names. Red, Greedy and Wriggler is
about as close as your human words get. Red was the seventy-eight scenter
and Greedy was only two smells behind. I studied them for a while longer,
trying to fathom out which dogs from the neighbourhood, if any, I could
recognise in these tiny bundles of fur. Their mother was quite obviously
one of the hunting dog breeds, likely shorthaired, sleek and fast, to
judge by these little ones. But this litter had had at least three sires, that much was obvious, and they had each been of
a different breed. I remembered that a scruffy black dog had been roaming
around our neck of the woods a few weeks ago. Sifting through my memories,
it seemed to me that he could well have been the father of the three
black puppies; certainly there was a shade of his scent about little
Wriggler. Greedy? That was easy! A dash of Labrador, a smidgen of Pointer,
the shape of a Ridgeback… and all wrapped up in a cream coloured fur.
But the little red one? Now here was a puzzler. Just how did Nova Scotia
Duck Tolling Retriever blood get to this small island in the Aegean
Sea? Well that’s the human name for that breed – according to Boss’
‘book of breeds’. Still, all that mattered for now was that I’d got
a ‘seventy-eight’ on my paws and that she’d likely want to be Queen
of our pack when she got older. I would have quite a hard time convincing
her that my seventy-nine scents put me above her in the rankings of
our pack… she’s going to be quite a strong willed bitch when she’s fully
grown.
Boss was rattling my lead
[xxxi]
– it was time for walkies. Good, perhaps he’d take
me down the valley, past where old Barker lives. Time for me to set
my canine chemistry set in motion too! Sure enough, Boss turned left,
down the lane which would take us past the melon fields and down to
the three houses. This was my first long walk since yesterday morning
and I took every chance to leave a message where other dogs might have
a sniff – even the cactus on the corner got a good dousing… Anyone sniffing
my pee during the next couple of weeks would get the message: »From Sam to all dogs – has anyone heard of
a mother dog who lost her puppies during the recent storms. If so, leave
a message near the big house that fills with human children for five
days out of seven. Or call Barker.«
I had left that message in a dozen places by the time we reached Barker’s
garden. Oh he did look a sorry sight that morning! His humans have chained
him to an olive tree and his ‘kennel’ is an old oil drum that has been
propped up on a brick, so that the rainwater can drain out. He had heard
us coming and was waiting at the fence. »Hello
youngster, you’re smelling a bit worried this morning, what’s up?«
[xxxii]
I looked around, Boss didn’t seem in too much of a hurry so I took
my time and told Barker what had happened and what little I had discovered
from the puppies.
»Hmm,
seems to me that the human who dumped the little ones must have driven
his car for quite a way before he threw them out. Your description of
the scents on the bag and the way the grass was lying tells me that
the bag had landed there only a short while before. They can thank the
Great Wolf that you found them so soon! Another few minutes and none
of them would have been alive now. I am afraid that means that they
were probably born at the other end of the island and that their human
was probably taking their mother to one of the vets in Kos. If you’re
lucky, he might have taken her to Boris’ human – he’s probably the most
well known vet. If he can’t help you, then I can only suggest you catch
the wandering storyteller the next time he passes. He gets around quite
a lot.«
I thanked Barker for his help and trotted after Boss. I’d heard of
the storyteller; he’s what you humans call a stray, he wanders from
one end of the island to the other and tells fascinating stories to
the dogs he meets on his travels. Sometimes his stories are furry tales,
told to amuse or to frighten the little ones, at other times he tells
of the goings on in other parts of the island. I had heard from the
dogs around town that he had last been through about two months ago.
Maybe I’d be in luck, he was due back in a few weeks.
Boss now led me towards the main road. I added another few drops to
the messages I was leaving, »If
anyone can get a message to the storyteller, please ask him to visit
me!« I had made the mixture for those messages as strong as I could,
so that they would last. Hopefully it wouldn’t rain too much before
the message could be passed on.
[xxxiii]
(A Tail of Two Pretties)
After Boss and I had returned home from our morning walk it was time
to feed the little ones once more. As I watched Boss and mistress ‘pumping’
warm canned milk into the pups, I couldn’t help wondering just how much
these three had gone through. My own puppyhood had been far different
– my mother’s warm teats every meal, friendly humans who looked after
her while we were growing inside her womb… oh, and those delightful
children who used to come and play with us! Human young can be so rough
sometimes – I had to nip the little girl a couple of times before she
got the message that my tail was not for picking me up by…
Now I began to wonder how these little ones would grow up. Well at
least there were no children in our pack, that was a blessing! But would
Boss and mistress remember what puppies liked to eat? I remembered that
I had always been well fed after they had taken me into their pack and
I hoped that their memory was good – you know how forgetful humans can
be sometimes. Still, they were doing all right for now with this canned
milk stuff. The two little bitches were doing quite nicely now – only
little Wriggler was still causing me concern. They had ended their uphill
struggle at last and pretty soon it would be easier for them, but it
would still be a day or two before we could really say they were over
the top.
Boss and mistress were busy the whole day, feeding and caring for the
little ones, yet they didn’t forget to feed Pit or myself. There was
even a tasty bone for me later on – I like rewards like that, perhaps
I could find some more…? Andrea visited us during the afternoon and
helped with the feeding. By now we were all getting into a good routine
with the feeding and cleaning up. Mistress did grumble a bit about the
huge amounts of paper towels they were using up, but I kept trying to
show them that you’re supposed to lick puppies clean, oh well…
The puppies second night with us went a little bit better. By now Red
and Greedy were taking their milk from the syringes as if it was the
most normal thing in their world. Oh, Greedy did grumble on an off when
she sucked too hard and was rewarded by a fit of choking, but at least
they were still alive. Only little Wriggler was still worrying me –
still no signs of coherent thought from his tiny mind.
That afternoon, it was a Sunday by human reckoning, Boss and mistress
packed us all into the car and took us over to Andrea and Lakis. Boss
and mistress were going away for a few days and had already arranged
for Pit and myself to stay with them, and now we were five. Andrea kept
telling us that she and Lakis would manage so there was no need to call
the trip off. The pups didn’t seem to mind much either – they knew Andrea’s
scent already. After my humans had gone, I wandered over to Fax, that’s
Lakis’ husky, and told him the whole story. He remembered the faint
barks a couple of days ago, but he hadn’t been able to make out what
was going on either and there had been no stories in the neighbourhood
as yet.
I even trotted around Fax’s garden and asked the other animals if they’d
heard anything. I was lucky! There was a new goat in the garden, he’d
been brought here just the day before and had lived in a pen not far
from where a kennel had been washed away by a flash flood. He’d heard
the two Alsatians barking away furiously and had seen the farmer carrying
his dog to the car. »Oh ye-e-e-e-s,« the goat bleated at me, »I remembe-e-e-r a blue ba-a-a-a-ag too.
The Alsatians were ba-a-a-arking at it, telling it to ha-a-a-ang on.
What a silly concept, that’s all that bags do anyway, just ha-a-a-ang
there!« I asked if he had noticed whether the farmer had brought
the dog back, but he was too busy chuckling about bags only being able
to hang on. I had to give him a nip in his hindquarters to get his attention
again – stupid goat! »Well now that you ask, he did bring her ba-a-a-ack
later that afternoon. She was howling all night and was still crying
when I was collected yesterday.«
Well at least there was some good news, but how could I get a message
to her and let her know what had happened to her litter. It was Fax
who came up with the answer: “Boomer, the pointer next door, is going
out hunting with his master this evening, We can ask him to take a message
if his human takes him anywhere near that farm.” It was a good idea!
Fax trotted round the front of the house and was back a few moments
later, “All clear, my humans are feeding your puppies. If we’re quick,
they won’t even notice we’ve been gone – come on!”
It took us only a few minutes to sprint around the corner and speak
to the wire-haired pointer. Of course he’d be only too pleased to get
the message through, in fact he’d even risk a beating by running off
to find the puppies’ mother. I told him the whole story so far as quickly
as I could, even adding a few drops of pee to the fence-post to give
my story more smell. Boomer promised to let us know the outcome as soon
as he came back, but it might take a day or two because his master usually
camped out when they went hunting.
“Sam, Fax – come on, dinner!” It was Lakis calling. Extracting a last
promise from the pointer to do his best, Fax and I trotted innocently
back to the kitchen door »Did
someone mention food?«
But there was work to do before I could eat – the pups needed a check
over and licking clean. Andrea and Lakis already knew what to expect
from me, but Fax really was surprised, “Hey, what are you up to?” he
woofed at me. I let him wait for a while before answering, after all
– you can’t really talk with your mouth full, can you now? I think he
was a bit surprised at my answer; huskies, he claimed, left that sort
of thing to their bitches.
Two feeds later, Andrea and Lakis settled down for a couple of hours
sleep. I went and dozed by the basket where the pups were basking in
the warm glow of the infra red lamp. I was just nodding off when I heard
that distant call once more, »Have
no fear, youngster! Come hunt with me and leave your life force with
the others.« I was relieved, in a way, for little Wriggler had shown
no signs of improving all day. Now that the Great Wolf had called, I
would not need to use ‘the bite’ on the little one.
A few moments later I could hear Andrea rustling around. She had set
an alarm clock so that she could feed the little ones. When she saw
little Wriggler lying there she just burst into tears. This time it
was Lakis who gently wrapped the dead puppy in some soft kitchen roll.
Wriggler now sleeps at the end of Lakis’ garden.
»Farewell, little one, and
good hunting…«
It was now the third dawn since I had found the bag; only two puppies
had survived. But now, as I examined Red and Greedy once more, I could
see that there was no more need to worry. Their life force was now at
full strength and they were both going to grow up to follow their destinies,
that much was certain – but what destinies? Not even us dogs can tell
the future. The three black puppies were now hunting with the Great
Wolf, but they had given their sisters that most precious gift of all
– their life force. It is the way amongst dogs and I was happy with
the Great Wolf’s choice.
Andrea came into the kitchen and started warming up some milk. That
woke Pit up, »Mreaow, milk time
again! Any for me?« He strolled over to the puppies box, »Oh dear, it wasn’t just a dream then?« I shook my head »But even I can see that these two are going
to be fine now… and with one mouth less there’s bound to be some milk
left over!«
Unbelievable, these cats! I shooed him out of the kitchen so that I
could help Andrea feed the little ones. As I licked them clean, my tongue
confirmed my examination earlier – these two had indeed been chosen
by the Great Wolf to live – their digestion was working exactly as it
should. I did some quick mental calculations, »Milk
in minus waste out…yep, they’re getting enough food. In fact they’re
starting to grow just right!«
Greedy was fidgeting on the blanket, her thoughts were quite strong
now, »I’m hungry! Want more! Want
mummy’s teats – don’t like this hard thing.«
»It’s all right, little one,
you’re doing just fine. Just leave it to the humans who are looking
after us, they know what they are doing, you won’t go hungry.«
»But I’m hungry now!«
»Don’t
be silly,« little Red chipped in, »You’ve just had at least two teats full! I can feel your round belly
sloshing around under my ear. Hey, Sam, have you found out anything
about our mummy yet?«
I told them what Fax and I had found out and added, »Let’s hope that the travelling storyteller
visits soon, maybe he’ll bring news.«
Lakis had a surprise in store for us later on that day. He had been
out for a while and now he held up a plastic bag for Andrea to see,
“I know that these might seem too big, but let’s give it a try – you
never know.” What on earth is he on about? I thought
to myself as he unpacked his bag. I examined the strange things on the
kitchen table – there was a plastic bottle and a strange smelling thing
shaped like a teat. Andrea seemed very pleased with these things and
started to warm some milk up. Like I already said before – you humans
are so inventive! Andrea poured some warm milk into this bottle and
then she put the teat shaped thing on the top.
Greedy was already getting the hang of things, her nose had already
told her that milk was being warmed up, she started to squeak loudly,
“I’m hungry! Feed me!”
Lakis took her out of the box and held the bottle so that some milk
dribbled out of the hole in the end of the teat shaped thing. Greedy
did not know what to do at first, she’d become used to the hard thing.
»Tastes horrible! Where’s the milk?« she grumbled and turned her head
away. Lakis was patient though and held the protesting bundle of fur
firmly while he shook a few drops of milk into Greedy’s mouth. That
seemed to do the trick! She opened her mouth in protest and suddenly
the teat thing was inside.
»Mmmf… heyyy! This is soft,
just like mummy’s teat…I can suck!« and
before you could say Jack Russell she was slurping away furiously at
Lakis’ present. Like I said, you humans are so inventive! From then
on mealtimes were a lot easier, one of the humans would feed a puppy
with this new bottle and the other would hold a puppy for me to lick
clean. There was no more fuss refilling a syringe every three slurps
and the little ones took to the teat without any more fuss. Only Greedy
remained a nuisance. She squeaked all the time, even though she couldn’t
have been hungry. When Andrea came to see what the problem was, Greedy
wriggled around until she could clamp her tiny mouth over Andrea’s finger
and start suckling.
In the end it was Lakis who solved the problem once more. That afternoon
he jumped on his moped and drove away again. Half an hour later he was
back with another small plastic bag.
“I went back to the chemists and told them about out little problem,
“ he said to Andrea as he pulled the surprise out of the bag. It was
another of those teat things, but this one had a hard round handle on
it – strange, I thought to myself, how are they going to put milk into that thing?
Lakis continued, “When I told the chemist that I wanted it for the puppies,
she laughed and gave me this dummy as a present. Let’s see if this keeps
her quiet.” Carefully Andrea pulled her finger out of Greedy’s mouth
and dipped the ‘dummy’ into the bowl of milk. Then she popped it into
Greedy’s mouth… Wonders will never cease! Greedy stopped squeaking and
suckled contentedly. Pretty soon she was fast asleep. Andrea put the
happily snoring little bundle of cream coloured fur back into the box,
next to her sister.
“Just look at them now, sleeping quietly. I think they’re over the
worst at last.”
I could only agree with her. Over the next few days the little ones
grew from strength to strength – you could almost see them growing.
Boss and his team of humans had done it!
Boss and mistress had called a couple of times and each time Andrea
would hold the talking bone thing to my ear so that I could hear their
voices. They sounded so happy about the progress that the puppies were
making now. Mistress had even decided on a name for the little red-furred
one: Ronja. Then Boss came on the line, “Hello Sam, old boy,
are you looking after our little greedy puppy?” His voice sounded strange
on that green bone, but it was definitely Boss, so I woofed a reply.
“What’s that, you think Greedy is a good name? Well that’s settled then,
Greedy it is.” »Clever human! Well done« And that was how the pups came to their
human names.
Boss and mistress would be back in a couple of days and I was looking
forward to seeing them. Not that staying with Andrea and Lakis was a
problem for us, but this was Fax’s pack, we were just visitors.
On our third day visiting Fax’s pack there was good news. Boomer was
back at last and he’d brought news of the pups’ mother. That afternoon
we slipped round the corner, unnoticed by Andrea, and trotted over to
Boomer’s kennel.
“Greetings and best wishes from Xanthia my friends,” he began, “for
that is the human name of the puppies’ mother. I found her kennel without
any problems and I passed on the news of her litter. She is happy that
they are in good hands and sends her blessings in the name of the Great
Wolf. Then she asked me to tell you her story.
“She was knocked about quite badly when the storm and the flood swept
her puppies away. Her owner took her to the vet and she remembers the
car stopping and her owner throwing her puppies into a field. She was
too badly hurt to stop the man and when she howled her dismay, he hit
her with a stick to make her shut up. Then she told of a loud argument
between the vet and her owner. The vet had been angry that Xanthia was
so undernourished and scolded her owner in no uncertain terms. He tended
to her wounds and gave her a couple of injections, and while her owner
was waiting outside the surgery, the vet fed her – it had been a delicious
meal – her first in many days.
“After her human had taken her home and righted her kennel she cried
all night. Her neck hurt and she had bruises all over her body – she
was still a poor sight when I found her yesterday morning. Her human
still hasn’t repaired her kennel and the only food he has given her
has been three loaves of bread. She cheered up when I told her that
her litter had been found and asked me to pass a message back to her
hero. It goes like this: Please tell Sam that I am grateful in the name of the Great Wolf. I heard
the Grey Wolf call and know that the little black ones are hunting with
him now, but as long as a part of the litter survives, then the spirit
of the whole litter shall live on in them. I shall send another message
to you all through the storyteller when he passes through next time
– look out for him, he is a good and wise friend. To my daughters I
send this message: The two Alsatians told of what you did to keep yourselves
dry and warm. Well done, you learnt well. From the scents that Boomer
brings, I can tell that Sam will be a good father for you, trust him
and learn from him. I wish you bright eyes and bushy tails.
“I would have brought more, but my master was calling.” Boomer continued,
“When I left Xanthia she was a lot better for the news.”
Then he cocked his leg against
a tree trunk and added the dog version of his news.
Not only did the scents back up his story, but Boomer had also given
us directions how to find Xanthia again if ever we had a chance. There
was a scent of high places, pine trees, peacocks and burnt human stuff.
I recognised that last smell immediately – it was the smell of the airport!
How could I ever forget that day when we arrived here! Fax examined
the scent too, “Did you smell that bit about the peacocks, Sam? That’s
definitely Plaka – the place where my humans sometimes go for their
picnics – it’s a little way beyond the Airport. Boomer’s map shows that
the pups’ mother lives about halfway between the airport and the peacock
valley. Remember it well, your humans are bound to go there too one
day.”
So Xanthia lived somewhere near the airport, I’d bide my time, but
I knew that one day Boss would take me out for a drive in that direction;
there were nice fields to romp across and woodlands to explore – Fax
and Boomer had told me all about the valley of the peacocks. It sounded
a wonderful place to explore. Perhaps when Greedy and Ronja were big
enough not to tire too easily…
The next few days passed by
without any further problems, Ronja and Greedy had settled into the
routine of regular feeding and sleeping – what a life! Andrea or Lakis
would warm up some milk, measure it into these bottle things and the
pups would slurp them empty in seconds. Their first few days must have
been so tiring for them that they now slept nearly all the time. That
was good of course, for now their tiny bodies had a chance to recover
and put on weight – and put on weight they did! Their tiny tummies would
fill with milk so that by the end of each meal they looked like tennis
balls with legs.
On the afternoon of our sixth day with Fax’s pack Andrea took the little
ones’ box outside, into the garden. It was a sunny day and we were all
dozing in the sunshine when I heard a familiar car noise. “Boss! Mistress!”
I barked. Fax had heard the car too, but Andrea had been playing with
Greedy and almost dropped her in surprise. As for Lakis, well he had
been fast asleep in his hammock – “What’s all the excitement about?”
he said as he picked himself up from the floor.
His question was soon answered when the bright red car drove into the
garden. “Chaaarge!”
“Hey, Sam, it’s all right! I had a wash this morning, let me up will
you?” Oh I can tell you that I was so happy to see my humans again that
my tail was wagging right the way back from the tip of my nose. I tried
to tell them all the news at once, of course, but they didn’t understand
me at all. Humans! Still, it didn’t matter… we were going home at last.
Then I turned my attention to mistress and welcomed her as well. You
humans may like to wash many times a day, but you can’t fool us dogs!
Boss and mistress smelled of fish and ships and sea – they had been
on a boat! And under that I could smell the scents of a big city – lots
of traffic and people scents still clung to their coats. But there was
a much tastier smell hanging around them – spaghetti! I just love spaghetti!
Did that mean there would be a bowl full of those delicious wriggly
worm things for me when we got home? Oh I did hope so!
* * *
Excuse
me butting in, dear reader, but I’m going to have to take over the story
for a while, Sam’s just gotten himself so worked up about spaghetti
that he’s romping around in search of a bowl full. Who am I? Oh, sorry,
I’m Sam’s ghostwriter – he calls me Boss in this story. I did try to
get him to write the story himself, but his paws are just too big for
the keyboard. Anyway, back to the story…
Boss and mistress packed up Sam’s, Pit’s and the puppies things and
loaded them into the car while mistress examined their foundlings. They
had grown! Pretty soon they’d be too big for the box that had been their
nest for the past week; a new nest was needed! Thanking Andrea and Lakis
for their help, they bundled their pets into the car and drove home.
It was only a short distance, but even that was almost too much for
Sam – he’s a very poor passenger when it comes to cars. They’d barely
stopped the car and opened the door when Sam struggled out and threw
up.
While the humans were unpacking and reorganising things, Sam explored
their home – probably in search of a bowl of spaghetti. He was quite
a normal dog in all other respects, but whenever he caught the scent
of pasta in the air, he would drool and give his humans no rest until
the spell wore off. Pretty soon things were back in order. Boss had
also devised a new bed for the puppies – Sam’s travel kennel was ideal.
Boss put the top and bottom halves end to end and put a blanket in one
part so that pups had separate sleep and play areas. Then he set up
the infra red lamp over the sleeping end so that Greedy and Ronja were
kept warm. At first Pit thought it was a new bed for him to sleep on,
safely away from all those dogs, and promptly settled himself down on
the blanket for a nap under that nice warm lamp. Pit’s snooze didn’t
last long, for the puppies were soon fed and he had to leave this nice
warm bed.
* * *
OY! Do you mind, Boss, This is my story! Humans! Leave them alone for
a moment and they’ll make a right cat’s tail of a good tale. It’s OK
now, revered reader, I’m back again. Couldn’t find any spaghetti, but
I did manage to empty the cat’s bowl before mistress noticed. Now, back
to the story… where was I, and what has Boss just written? Oh, right.
We were back home at last and the pups had been fed and bedded down
for yet another sleep. Our visit to Fax’s pack had been an interesting
time, but there really is no place like one’s own den. Now it was time
for a walk around the neighbourhood and to tell everyone the news about
the puppies’ mother. I went over to the door and sat on the doormat.
“What’s that Sam, want to go for a walk? Hang on then while I get my
jacket.” You humans may not be able to read our minds anymore, but at
least you can take a hint…
There were plenty of fresh messages for me to sniff out as we strolled
down the back lane towards the garden where old Barker lived. Hmm, Max
and Aris had been here recently, they’re two dogs who live in a garden
about a hundred yards away from our house. I sniffed at their news –
nothing much, just sympathy for the pups and some good luck wishes…
Aha! Laika had passed by too. What was that? She’d just had a litter
of ten adorable little pups; she’d like to offer some milk, but with
so many small mouths to feed… And there was a message from Gina – why
didn’t I visit the goats at the Hatzistergous place? The humans there
were always borrowing milk for puppies or kittens…
After half an hour of such hints, tips and good wishes for their future,
my nose was spinning like a swarm of flies over a cowpat. All very interesting,
but no one here could shed more light on the puppies’ mother. It was
just as well that Fax had led me to boomer. Nor could Barker add much
more. Besides which, he was in a foul mood that day; his humans had
forgotten to close the gate to the pigpen and half a dozen porkers had
rooted up the ground around his kennel. I decided it was time to head
back home and see how mistress was getting on with the little ones.
Besides which, I desperately needed a drink – all those messages to
reply to had dried up my chemistry set!
It
hadn’t taken Ronja and Greedy long to settle into their new den. When
I finally dragged Boss in through the front door, I could see that they
were already exploring the play end of what had been my old transport
kennel. Mistress had put a couple of furry toys down for the girls to
play with and Greedy was already examining a small stuffed rabbit with
her tiny nose. Ronja was in the other end, sleeping off her last meal.
I could just make out her tiny thoughts as she dreamed about romping
over wide green meadows. That was good, at least the nightmares about
thunder, lightning and rain had stopped at last.
“Oh, hello Sam,” Greedy squeaked as I leaned over to see how she was
getting on, “Look what I’ve just killed.” She was worrying one of the
toy rabbit’s furry ears. I had to smile to myself as I tried to imagine
this tiny pup, with her eyes still closed, hunting rabbits. Both pups
had put on weight in their first week with us, but looking down at this
cream coloured bundle of fur I still couldn’t help thing just how small
she was. My nose was bigger than her whole body! Even the fluffy rabbit
with its soggy ear was three times her size.
I licked her in greeting as gently as I could, but I still hadn’t got
the hang of it the way mother dogs do. “Oops! Sorry Greedy, didn’t mean
to bowl you over to the other side of your pen.”
“Hey, steady on,” she protested. Then she squeaked so excitedly that
even Boss and mistress had to come over to see what was going on. “Look,
look, look! I can see!” Sure enough, I could see that her right eye
had opened just a tiny slit. I wouldn’t have said that her eyes were
really open, but she would surely be able to recognise colours and shapes
now. Boss picked her up to see what was wrong.
“She’s all right,” he said, “probably just protesting at Sam’s none
to gentle greeting.” Then he noticed her eye, “Well there’s interesting
Bianca, one of her eyes has started to open. It won’t be long now and
they’ll be ready to explore freely. Come on little on, get some rest
now.” Gently he placed her on the blanket next to Ronja and stroked
her to sleep.
I listened in to Greedy’s thoughts as she drifted away, »I can see at last. Now I know what Boss looks
like – a big pink blob. And Sam looks just like he smells – a mile high
black thing. And the world is soooo big. There was another blob that
smelt like mistress, it was soooo far away…«
It took another five days before their eyes were fully open and during
that time Ronja and Greedy learnt to understand what they were seeing.
Slowly the blobs in front of their eyes took shape and added meaning
to the smells that accompanied them. Now it was time for me to take
over as teacher and help them understand the shapes of the strange things
that filled their world.
“That furry thing you are chewing on is what the humans call a rabbit,”
I told Greedy a few mornings later, “but I can tell you this, a real
rabbit is a lot heavier and a lot faster. Our humans have some strange
ideas, you know, and having lots of fluffy toy things is one of them.
Mistress has got dozens of them of all different shapes and sizes. They’re
great fun to get your teeth into – you can really practice your disembowelling
techniques on them. But a word of warning, you too Ronja, listen up
now! Mistress doesn’t like us tearing her fluffy animal toys up, so
if you do just happen to get a little rough with one of these toy things
one day, then make sure you’ve practised your innocent looks. That way
she won’t be cross with you for too long. Now let’s just try your innocent
puppy expressions once more…”
Their tiny puppy faces turned towards me and tried to look innocent.
“That’s not bad at all Greedy, but try not to look straight at Boss
or mistress. Turn your head a little more to the side and peer round
an imaginary corner… that’s it! Perfect!” Then I turned to Ronja, “Oh
deary me, that won’t do… that’s far too cheeky. Lying flat on your tum
with your forepaws either side of your head, your backside in the air
and wagging your tail is the ‘let’s play’ look…”
“Well I want to play!” Ronja protested, “I don’t want to look innocent
– I want to be leader of the pack!”
Oh dear! I had known she would be trouble from the moment I discovered
that she was a seventy-eight scenter. Not only was she the alpha pup
from her litter, but she would want to be top dog in any pack she grew
up in. What’s more, she was a female. “Now, now Ronja, you’ll just have
to get used to the fact that you’re in a human’s pack and that you must
play by their rules – they’re the pack leaders around here!”
“We’ll see about that! Just you wait until I grow up… I’ll show them
who’s in charge! Why, Boss doesn’t even have more than a dozen smells
around him – and mistress has even less!”
“Well I’ve got a surprise for you Ronja. Not all humans are like the
ones your mother taught you about. They smell different for a start,
and less is better for humans. You’re going have to learn new ways now.
Boss and mistress will feed you well, give you a warm bed to sleep on
and this nice kennel to live in. We came here from a land far away where
humans really do care for their packs – you’re going to have a completely
different life to the one your mother taught you to expect. So if you
want to live with humans that care, then you’d better learn new ways!”
“You sound like the story teller mummy told us about. He’s always telling
furry tails about homes for dogs where humans are kind and dogs get
fed delicious food. But mummy said these stories were just fantasies
that grown up dogs told their litters on cold wet nights. She said that
we had to grow up to be strong and to protect ourselves and to hunt
for food whenever we get the chance and to chase chickens because they
make a good quick meal and to…”
“Well that’s enough of that,” I interrupted her, “I don’t know why
your mother or your ancestors have such problems with your humans here,
but I do know that we dogs are supposed to be a human’s best friend.
And where I came from that was the case, just as it is with my pack
– our pack. Surely your mother told you that all dogs were descended
from the Great Wolf and that he was the first animal to make friends
with a human? She must have, after all, that story has been bred into
our very bones.”
Now Greedy piped up, “Mummy did tell us the story of the Great Wolf,
but she also told us that humans have long since broken their friendship
with dogs and that they treat us the same way as they treat any other
animal. She told us that we will have to grow up to care for ourselves.”
“Well I’ve got another surprise for you little ones: our humans are
different, they really do care for me and they will care for you too.
Who is it that feeds you? Certainly not me!”
Their tiny puppy faces looked up at me with an expression that showed
dawning understanding. Of course they’d known all along that this was
a comfortable place for them, but they’d needed this reminder. Then
Greedy decided she was hungry again and started to whimper as loudly
as she could. The Great Wolf only knew where she had learnt that trick,
for within minutes Boss and mistress were preparing another meal of
warm milk.
As I watched as my humans fed Greedy and Ronja I couldn’t help noticing
that the puppies were growing well now. Two weeks ago they had barely
fitted into Boss’ hand, now they had almost doubled in size. There was
a new taste about them as I licked them clean that day; their waste
was beginning to taste different. Their digestion was working a lot
better now and it would very soon be time for their first outings outside
to learn about not making messes in our den. I wandered over to the
water bowl for a drink to wash the taste down.
Boss seemed to have noticed the change in their digestion too, “Phew!
That stinks Greedy. I don’t think Sam will be licking you clean anymore.
Come on, it’s a nice warm day, let’s go outside and let the pups have
a play in the sunshine.” Well a blanket on the balcony was not quite
what I had in mind, but it was certainly a new experience for Greedy
and Ronja. After all, their only experience of the outside world so
far had been from a draughty and flooded kennel.
“Wheee! Is this the outside world at last?” squeaked Greedy as her
nose discovered the scents of outdoors. “It smells so much different…
is that chicken I can smell?”
It was indeed, and no sooner did her nose latch on to that smell her
tiny legs began propelling her in the right direction. “Careful now
Greedy, the balcony is only fifteen feet…” Too late!
“Ouch! By dose!” Silly girl – she had closed her eyes to the bright
sunlight and snuffled her way straight into the balcony wall. Still,
there was no harm done, the balcony was still in one piece.
The next few dews stretched into weeks. Each day the sun rose a little
earlier and climbed more steeply up the sky. Greedy and Ronja had long
since discovered the real outside world and would now join Boss and
myself on increasingly longer walks along the lane and over the fields.
Then one sunny day I found an interesting message near the cow sheds,
»Hmm, a dash of pine tree, some
peacock feathers and burnt petrol smells and smells from other places
I haven’t yet explored…« It was a message from the travelling storyteller.
I quickly mixed up all seventy-nine scents in my chemistry set, added
my signature and a few directions so that he would be able to find us.
»This message is for the great and wise storyteller from Sam Black-dog
Labrador. I live in the house fifty paces to the sunrise side of the
big house that smells of hundreds of young humans. I am fostering two
of Xanthia’s puppies. She lives somewhere near the place that smells
of burnt petrol. If you have got news for us then please visit.«
With a bit of luck he’d pick up my message and come calling within the
next day or two.
I’d never met the storyteller, but all the dogs in the neighbourhood
had told me about him. He was a wise dog; he was a great dog; he travelled;
his tales were told with the wisdom of the Great Wolf; he was ancient;
he was strong.
There was a dog waiting on the meadow as we went out for a play that
afternoon. My eyes and my nose didn’t want to agree – but my nose knows
the truth! Of course it was a dog – it must be; after all, I had been
told the storyteller was a dog, and this four legged bundle of fur smelt
of dog, even if I couldn’t see a tail or a nose. Now I’ve seen many
kinds of dogs in my own travels, even old English Sheepdogs and other
fluff-balls where you have to look twice to see which end is which,
but this?
Whichever way round he was, the storyteller was standing in our patch
of meadow as if he owned the place. He was a strange dog indeed. Even
at third look I still couldn’t be too sure about his ends. Still, there
was no doubt about his aura – here was an eighty scenter! He appeared
to be about half my size, but with all that fur he’d probably be a lot
smaller. I guessed that I probably weighed about four times as much.
Even so, an eighty scenter commanded full respect.
Mind your manners Sam! I told myself, Here is a very wise dog; let the girls approach him first – that is the
way it must be. Even Greedy and Ronja seemed puzzled as they trotted
up to him. I held back for a moment. When such a distinguished visitor
arrives it is always polite to let the little ones approach first. It
is a move amongst us dogs that shows the visitor he is welcome and not
about to be attacked and chased away.
“Hello
honoured storyteller, have you got a story for us?” Ronja squeaked politely
as she and Greedy sat themselves down in the long grass in front of
this strange-looking bundle of fur. Well I’ll be! I thought to myself, Whatever else they might be, their mother certainly
taught them to show excellent manners in the presence of honoured dogs.
Now why don’t they behave like that around the house?
“Harrumph! Other end girls!”
Oh what a wonderful voice he had! It was as if the Great Wolf himself
was talking! This voice was a thousand years old, no, tens of thousands
of years old! It was the kind of voice that all dogs dream of hearing,
even though very few ever do while they are alive. It was the kind of
voice that dogs will listen to for hours and never tire of hearing.
It was the kind of voice that will stop Deer Hounds and Jack Russells
alike in their tracks and make them listen. It was the voice of a true
storyteller!
I forgot that I was supposed to be a fully grown sixteen month old
Labrador weighing almost ninety pounds. I felt like a puppy once more
as I rolled onto my back in delight at the sound of this voice. Then
I remembered my manners, “Sorry wise one.” I sat politely back on my
haunches between Greedy and Ronja who were trying to stifle their giggles
in the manner of all young females from just about any animal you care
to think about – even you humans.
“Aha, so you are the youngster who found Xanthia’s little ones. Come
a little closer so that I may see you better.” I dropped down flat on
my belly and edged forward. The storyteller shook his head and now I
could see his eyes and nose between the long curly strands of fur. “My
my, but you are a handsome pup! And well bred too! You’re not from around
here, that much I can tell; you’re too well fed and groomed.” Now he
walked around and sniffed at Ronja and Greedy, “And these must be Xanthia’s
little ones. Why, you really are beauties, your mother will be so happy
when I tell her about how well Sam and his humans have cared for you.
Now settle yourselves down and make yourselves comfortable, for I bring
news from your mother.”
Ronja and Greedy squirmed with delight in the presence of this wonderful
dog; I would have loved to roll about with them too, but I remembered
my manners and sat down patiently, “Settle down you two! Let’s listen
to the storyteller.”
The storyteller began his story. It was a tale about a hunting dog
who lived most of her life tied to a stake in the ground. Her owner
would only let her hunt a few times in the year…
It didn’t take a wise dog to realise just whose story this was. I have
done my best to repeat it in human terms at the beginning of this book.
It was Xanthia’s story. But it was told in such a beautiful way that
I must apologise to all human readers for the missing sounds, colours
and scents. We all shivered as the storyteller told how the rain fell
that night the puppies were born. And the sound of crashing thunder
made us jump right out of our furs.
“…your mother was quite ill for the next few days after her human had
brought her back from the ‘vitnery’.” The storyteller was coming to
the end of the puppies’ story, “She cried for days, even though her
owner beat her and refused to feed her unless she shut up. Then, a few
days later, a new dog appeared in the little settlement where she and
the Alsatians live. A big brown pointer named Boomer brought news of
her little ones. They had been found and the life force of the whole
litter was surviving in three little pups.”
He looked gently at Ronja and Greedy. Oh those eyes! I crawled between
the girls to get a better look and to hear the end of his tale through
those eyes.
“Now I can add that the Great Wolf called once more, but I can see
that you little ones share the life force of your brothers and sister.
I will tell Xanthia that her litter has grown well despite all the hurdles
you have had to climb. My story has ended for now, but yours has only
just begun. Maybe you will tell me of your adventures as you grow up
so that I can add to this story. Perhaps one day dogs all over the world
will it told by other storytellers in other lands. Will you promise
to tell me all your adventures whenever I visit?”
Two pairs of awed puppy eyes peered up at this great storyteller; HE
was asking them to tell HIM their stories! “Oh we would love to, great
storyteller!” they piped up in unison, “But surely we will not have
much to tell you. We live in a fine house and our humans feed us well.
We sleep in dry and warm beds and even their cat plays gently with us.
What possible adventures could we have that will make a good story for
you?”
“Why that’s excellent!” The wise old storyteller exclaimed. “You have
already told me something wonderful. You live in a warm and comfortable
home with kind humans. That is just the kind of happy end that dogs
will love to hear about. So many dogs on the island live wretched lives
and they all dream of living like you do. It is just this kind of happy
end that will give them something to hope for. Maybe not for themselves,
but perhaps for their young ones.”
Ronja and Greedy squealed with delight, “Another story, please another
story!” they begged.
The storyteller looked up at the sun. “Well I suppose I could manage
one more short tale for two pretties like you. I had promised to look
up a dog called Barker on my way through these parts.”
“Oh that’s easy.” I told the wise old dog, “He lives just a couple
of tail wags down the lane. You won’t need to search for long, I know
exactly where old Barker lives. Please do tell us another story.”
“Why thank you, Sam. For a new dog in these parts, you certainly seem
to know your way round quite well already.”
“I know where most of the dogs around here live.” I replied, trying
my hardest to sound modest. “Boss – that’s my human – takes me for long
walks every day. I’ve met about fifty dogs around this town and most
of them are tied up, so I know where they all live.”
For some strange reason the old storyteller started to bark with delight.
“Why, this is more than I could have ever hoped for! Not only have
I found a happy end to the story about the storm puppies, but I have
found a dog who’s master takes him for walks! Tell me, do you know of
an alsatian bitch called Laika?”
“Easy,” I replied. “Four hundred of my paces towards the sunset. You
can’t miss her garden – you can smell her puppies as soon as you trot
around that corner and past the humans’ school place. Oh, I mustn’t
forget to add that her last puppy was taken away yesterday – two children
who live near the place with the bells took that one. They have called
her Daphne. I can also tell you where the other ten puppies are living,
if you’re interested.”
Now Ronja joined in eagerly, “Don’t forget to tell the storyteller
about Aristotle and Plato! They’re two of Daphne’s brothers who live
in the garden of that big grey house where Boss gets his food…
“And don’t forget Athene! She lives up the hill, next door to that
yappy westie…” Greedy added.
Now the storyteller was really getting more than he bargained for.
“Hey, you three, steady on!” he barked, “Do you mean to say that all
three of you go for walks with your humans?” We all nodded. “And you
know most of the dogs in this area?” We nodded again, just like that
plastic nodding dog that Boss used to have in the back of our car before
our pack got so big that he had to buy a bigger one.
“Well praise the Great Wolf!” Now it was the storyteller’s turn to
be awed. In all his wanderings around the island, we were the first
dogs he had come across who went for regular walks with their humans.
Most dogs were chained up and those that were not were mostly strays
and scavengers trying their best to survive. I’d even met a few of them
during my long walks with Boss and I told the storyteller how Boss would
try to give them a friendly pat or perhaps one of those biscuits that
he always carried with him in his jacket pocket. We’d even taken my
leftovers to Laika while she was pregnant; her owner had not fed her
enough and Boss would always take a plastic box full of food to her
during our last walk of the day. Laika had been lucky, all eleven of
her puppies had survived and found homes around the village where we
live. We regularly passed by their new homes and took messages for their
mother.
The storyteller’s eyes sparkled with delight as I told him these things.
“Why that’s wonderful!” he would exclaim time and again as we told of
the dogs we had met during our walks with Boss. “You’ll be telling me
next that you get fresh drinking water all the time… you don’t, do you?”
We had begun nodding even before the storyteller could complete his
sentence. “Why? don’t all dogs get fresh water every day?” asked Ronja.
“Never mind fresh water, little one,” the storyteller commented gravely,
“most of the chain dogs don’t even get a regular feed. I’m sorry to
have to say this, but your mother goes hungry most of the time and she’s
still one of the lucky ones. That’s why I wander around telling stories
about caring humans who give their dogs nice homes… It gives them hope
for a better future; something to dream about; something to give meaning
to their miserable lives.
“Try to imagine, if you can my little ones, what a chain dog’s life
is like. There he is, day after day, chained to his kennel. That’s if
he’s lucky enough to have been given one, of course. Let me just ask
you one question: where do you go to the toilet?”
Now it was Greedy’s turn to add her bit, “As far away from our den
as possible. Mummy taught us that this is our way so that we can keep
clean and…” Suddenly the meaning of the storyteller’s question struck
her, “Yuck! You mean that they have to play in their own mess?”
Greedy had always been quick on the uptake. Even Ronja shivered at
the thought now that her sister had answered the question. “That explains
why those dogs that we visit smell so much. Poor mummy! But what about
Boris, he always smells nice when we visit him… and he gets fed regularly.
And his human is always nice to us – even though he does stick sharp
things into our shoulders.”
“What’s this about a human sticking sharp things into you?” The storyteller
was really getting confused now, “Don’t tell me there’s a vet on the
Island now? If there is, he must be in the big town – I haven’t been
there in years. In fact the last time I visited there were packs of
wild strays who would attack anyone that didn’t belong in their territory.
They’d even chase after humans too; that’s why I never went back.”
Hmm. It seemed like now would be a good time for me to tell the storyteller
what I had learned. Perhaps things were looking up on the island and
our new old friend would have some good news to spread around the island
on his travels.
“Respected storyteller,” I began, “may I have the honour of telling
you about a human who really does care for the animals on this island?”
The storyteller nodded, “I think you’d better; I’ve been away from
the town for too long.”
I began to tell the storyteller what I had learned about the new vet
– I had had some interesting chats with his dog, Boris, while Boss and
I had sat in the waiting room for my usual health checks and injections.
“I remember a smallish mongrel who’d been brought in for treatment
while I was there a few weeks ago – a Greek man had kicked the dog the
evening before and taken one of its’ eyes out. On another occasion another
human came in with an approximately nine-month-old pup, undernourished
and totally uncared for. She and her friend had “confiscated” it from
their landlady. The child of the household had dragged the pup around
by its hind leg, dislocating its shoulder. That had occurred weeks previously
and the injuries had been left unattended.
“And also, as recently as seven years ago, there were still packs of
wild dogs roaming the streets of the town. Sheep and goats were often
attacked and eaten, and even the odd tourist puttering around the island
on his rented scooter made a good target for a wild pack.”
“I remember those days well,” said the storyteller, “…sorry, do carry
on.”
“It was about then that a new vet came to the island. Yanni Thalassinos
had learned his skills in country called America and was a dedicated
animal friend, probably the first human on the island who really cared
about how animals were looked after.
Boris had told me that more and more of the humans here were learning
about the plight of the animals on the island. This was mostly due to
the fact that Yanni was one human who really went out of his way to
help stray and mistreated animals. There was another human, one of Yanni’s
friends, Vangelis Trakossis, who had even set up a private animal rescue
organisation: ‘Friends of the Animals and the Environment’. This was
the first, and so far only, officially recognised organisation
on the island. He would take in strays and take care of them to the
best of his very limited financial abilities. The money would come from
donations or out of his own pocket, mostly from the latter unfortunately.
Yanni would often treat the sick animals for free when there was enough
cash spare.
“Then, about three years ago Yanni even managed to convince a group
of Swiss vets to visit the island. By the end of their stay they had
gathered up almost a hundred strays, given them a check-up, all their
injections, a bath and some decent food. Those vets took the dogs they
had treated home with them now they all live with caring Swiss and German
families. Switzerland and Germany are two other countries very far away.
The country I came from was so far away that my humans had to put me
in a box inside one of those huge flying machines so that we could get
here. And what’s more, Boris also told me that tourists sometimes find
a stray dog and take him or her home with them at the end of their holidays
here.”
“Excuse me if I butt in again, youngster,” the storyteller interrupted,
“but do you mean to say that these humans actually take stray dogs to
new homes in far away countries?” I nodded. “Well that explains why
I have noticed fewer dogs over the last few years.”
“These vets from far away came back again last year, but sadly this
year, their third visit, was also their last. You could say that they
have been too successful. Boris told me that they had rescued more than
six hundred strays over the past three years and the numbers of homeless
dogs has fallen drastically in comparison to those early days. Even
so, there are still more than just a few left on the island. As for
Yanni, Vangelis and Boris, well they’re happy with the successes so
far but now it’s time to work with the humans that live here.
“Yanni’s main weapon in the struggle to combat the local attitude towards
animals is propaganda. Apart from making several appearances on local
television, he also spends as much time as possible with the people
who come to his surgery trying to educate them about animal welfare.
This becomes most apparent when a ‘proud’ owner comes to his surgery
with a ‘Ratsa’ dog (pedigree breed) to be docked. First of all he will
try to persuade the owner to change his mind. Much of the time his words
fall on deaf ears, but even though he is an avowed opponent of docking,
he will do it. And he’ll salt his fees quite a bit too! The alternative
is horrifying – Boris told me that some owners will simply go to the
‘state’ vet who will do the amputation in the street, using unsterilised
equipment and without an anaesthetic. Or the owner may even do the job
himself with a pair of wire cutters...”
This made the storyteller howl loudly. “Oh I remember that kind of
treatment! That’s what happened to my tail! I will never forget that
day as long as I live; my owner just picked me up by the scruff of my
neck and cut off my tail with a sharp knife. It was not long after that
when I met the old storyteller and decided to run away with him. Oh
the shame of it, to be a dog without a tail…”
Ronja and Greedy had been listening intently. Now they looked around
at their own tails and promptly tucked them underneath their bodies,
just in case there was a human around with a sharp knife.
“It’s all right, you two.” I told them, “Boss won’t cut your tails
off and nor will Yanni. Now, where was I… oh yes: Yanni’s next step
in the propaganda war will be to give a series of talks at local schools.
These are aimed directly at the next generation of pet owners – the
twelve to thirteen year old human children.
“But animal welfare is not just cats and dogs. Kos has plenty of other
wildlife that Yanni cares for: Mediterranean turtles used to breed on
the islands beaches, but with the advent of tourism came the decline
in their natural breeding grounds. Yanni has played no small part in
the maintenance of the protected beaches where the turtles can breed
safely. I have heard that many tourists would dearly love to see these
beaches, but thankfully the local authorities have closed the roads
so that humans can’t drive their cars there. And if a dolphin gets stranded,
you’ll probably find Yanni not too far away either.
“Even reptiles are worth a mention – certainly if you ever visit the
surgery! Those tortoise thingies are very common on the island, and
there is even a poster on the wall that asks humans to please carry
them across to the other side of the road if ever they should come across
one trying to dodge the traffic.
“But don’t think that the situation is under control; there is still
a lot of work to be done for and on behalf of the strays here and Yanni’s
education programme is not yet underway. Animals will continue to be
mistreated; Boris also told me that many others die agonising deaths
from carelessly laid out rat poison and others simply contract some
equally nasty sickness without a chance of proper medical treatment.
The attitude of the islanders is slowly changing, although they still
consider it strange when Boss takes us out for walkies “just for the
sheer fun of it”.
I finished telling the storyteller what I had learnt about the vet
and scratched an itch on my left shoulder. The storyteller sat back
and thought about this news for a while and the pups trotted off to
chase a brightly coloured butterfly that had distracted them.
After a while the storyteller stood up and shook himself. “I think
I had better be on my way now. This news will help cheer up a lot of
dogs. Perhaps some of them might just be able to break free one day
and find their way to this animal rescue place you told me about. Besides,
I’ve still got to find one of those places where humans go to eat –
there’s always good scavenging to be found in their dustbins.”
Just then I heard a familiar sound – it was Boss’ car. The storyteller
jumped up and was about to run away, but I stopped him. “Wait, it’s
only Boss. Please stay for a few moments more and meet him. Maybe he’ll
even let you share some of our food.” I looked up at the setting sun.
“It’s almost feeding time.”
The storyteller paused for a moment. “Well OK, but only as long as
he doesn’t come at me with a stick.”
Ronja and Greedy had heard the car too. Now all three of us raced over
to see what Boss was unloading. “I can smell a box full of biscuity
things!” Ronja shouted with delight as she did a somersault while trying
to like Boss’ face. “And he’s got a bag full of that chopped meat!”
added Greedy.
Chopped meat? That could only mean one thing! I stuffed my nose into
one of the bags – no, not here. Then I sniffed another bag – aha! There
it was, the smell of uncooked spaghetti!
“Hey, steady on you three! Take it easy will you.” Boss put his bags
down and gave us all a good petting. Then he opened one of the boxes
he had brought home with him, “OK, OK! You can have a treat. Here, look
what I found in the supermarket – they’ve stocked up on Bonio at last.
Sit!”
We all knew that word well – ‘Sit’ usually meant a tasty dog treat
– even the pups had learnt that one. Within seconds we each had a delicious
dog biscuit in our mouths. “Girls, we have a guest.” I reminded them.
Now it was Boss’ turn for a surprise. A storyteller is a dog to be respected,
so we trotted over to our guest and deposited our tasty titbits in front
of him.
“Why thank you very much youngsters. That’s very kind of you.”
Boss suddenly noticed our guest too. “Well, well – a visitor! Hello
old boy, where did you come from?” He strolled over to where the storyteller
was standing and reached down to pat the visitor’s head. “Oops! Sorry,
wrong end! My, my, you are a right interesting fluffball, aren’t you?
Don’t mind me, enjoy the biscuits that these three have given you.”
Boss stepped back and waited while the storyteller crunched up his snack.
Three biscuits disappeared in as many wags of a dog’s tail. Boss held
another one out for the storyteller.
“Politeness is one thing, Boss, but what about me? I’m still hungry!”
That was Greedy through and through!
Boss seemed to understand her grumbling, but now he was stroking our
guest. “Oh deary me – you’re all skin and bones! I’ll bet you haven’t
had a decent meal in months. Here, have another biscuit.” The hair at
the front end of that straggly bundle of fur parted and another biscuit
disappeared. “Yes, OK Ronja and Greedy, you can have one too – here.
And what about you Sam?” I sat again. “Here you go. Now see if you can
keep our visitor occupied for a moment – he looks as if he could do
with a meal. Don’t go away now fluffball…” With that, Boss disappeared
inside.
I turned to the storyteller, “See, just like I told you. Please wait
for a couple of moments, our human will bring some food out for you.”
“I think I will wait for a while more Sam. Your human certainly is
different, he smells right too.” The storyteller paused for a few moments
and watched the pups chewing away at their biscuits on the other side
of the garden. “You are a lucky pack to have such a human as your owner.
And what you told me about the new vet and his friends is beginning
to give me hope that things here will be changing.” Then another thought
crossed the storyteller’s mind, “Say, do you think we could somehow
work out a plan to help rescue Xanthia from her owner? I didn’t want
to say too much while the pups were nearby, but she is in a really poor
state. Perhaps you can find a way to persuade your human to take you
out for a drive in that direction one day soon. She’s a pretty dog and
it would surely be a good thing if we can find her a better human to
live with. Maybe one of those tourists will take her away from here?”
“That’s a great idea!” I exclaimed, “The weather is getting warmer
and I know that Boss and mistress like to take us in the car to explore
other parts of the island occasionally. I’ll try to figure out a way
to get him to take us to near where Xanthia lives. But what about the
other two dogs that live near her? Shouldn’t we try to help them too?”
“Perhaps we can, but hang on a moment, I can see your human coming
back. What’s that he’s carrying?” The storyteller sniffed at the air,
“Smells like food, but hang on a moment, I can see your human coming
back. What’s that he’s carrying?” The storyteller sniffed at the air,
“Smells like food…” Boss had indeed returned and now he placed a bowl
full of MY favourite food in front of our guest – spaghetti and meat!
Well, he was a guest so I didn’t protest this time; nor did the pups.
The storyteller tucked in, “Mmm, this is delicious…”
Whilst Greedy and Ronja were playing around in the grass chasing lizards,
the storyteller gave me some more detailed instructions as to how we
might find their mother. In between mouthfuls of spaghetti he managed
to describe the sights, sounds and smells that we would have to look
out for on our journey. It was going to be a risky affair because it
meant that we might have to run away from Boss if we didn’t manage to
get him to take us close enough to the place where Xanthia was chained
up. In the end we agreed that we would do what we could; all we had
to do now was to wait for the right chance.
After he had finished his meal, the storyteller thanked Boss profusely
by rolling over onto his back and letting himself be stroked and petted
for a while. Then, with a cheerful woof of farewell, he trotted off
down the lane in search of old Barker. Boss picked up the empty bowl
and stared after the woolly old dog now trotting away into the distance,
“Well what do you make of that then Sam? Skinny old fellow, wasn’t he?
I wonder where he lives? Oh well, I suppose he’ll be alright, he certainly
looked old enough to survive on his own. Come on you three, time for
something to eat.”
We didn’t need to be asked twice – Greedy was already sitting in front
of the door before Boss could even think of repeating the offer.
* * *
There was no more time for second thoughts about the rightness of our
decision. Boss and mistress were coming down the stairs. Oh well, I thought to myself, I just hope Greedy and I can keep our breakfast
inside until we see some of the landmarks that the storyteller told
us to watch out for or we might just be having our lunch backwards.
The car doors slammed shut and we were on our way. Ronja poked her
head out of the window on mistress’ side of the car and wagged her tail
with delight. Greedy was more cautious; she rested her head on Boss’
shoulder and tucked her tail in tightly between her hind legs. I listened
in to her thoughts for a while but she was so busy thinking about not
being sick that my stomach began to churn even more. Instead I looked
out of the window on my side of the car and tried to follow the landmarks.
We were lucky. The storyteller had described the way well and I could
see that we were indeed heading in the right direction. To our left
was the mountain and to our right the sea – so far so good! Aha… there
was the smell of pressed olives – that must be the place where the humans
had what they called the oil factory. And there on the right was the
place where humans wore brown, green and black patterned clothes! I
could see one of them standing in a kennel beside the gateway to the
fenced in area where I could see another gaggle of humans wearing the
same strange clothes. They were being herded around in a bunch by a
big human with a loud voice.
Ronja was chattering away to herself with eager puppy dog thoughts.
I could hear her counting of the sights as we drove along. There’s the place with two huge bowls on the roof. That smells like the
pig farm. Yuk – petrol! We should be passing a… yep! There it is – the
duck pond. Any minute now and there’ll be a field full of goats. Spot
on! Now look to the left where we should soon be passing a big building
with spinning dragonfly wings… Great! Now it’s uphill and lots of winding
road. What did the storyteller say? ‘Look out for the steep drop of
to the right’… ooops! That is a long way down! It was reassuring
that at least one of us had a strong stomach and could concentrate on
the sights. Greedy was beginning to look decidedly unwell and I wasn’t
feeling any better than she looked. “Is it much further?” she whined,
stifling back a sickly burp. “I can’t hold my breakfast back much longer.”
We had been travelling for about fifteen minutes and I could feel my
breakfast trying its hardest to escape from my belly. “Me neither,”
I replied, “But we must – we have to find your mother and try to rescue
her. Can you see anything yet Ronja?”
“It can’t be far now. I think we just passed the place where the storyteller
said that aeroplanes land – it certainly smelt like it! And there are
lots of trees with pink flowers along the side of the road now. There
it is! Just like the storyteller said – a small house with a bright
blue roof! I think we’re close enough…”
Greedy and I didn’t need telling twice. We started heaving for what
it was worth.
Mistress noticed our efforts to get rid of our breakfast and told Boss
to stop as quick as he could. Seconds later the back door of the car
opened and we shot out into a nearby field to get rid of that nasty
taste. “That’s better,” said Greedy, licking her lips clean. Then she
sniffed at the air, “I know that smell!” she barked. Ronja sniffed at
the breeze too, “Mother!” she yipped and before Boss could stop them,
they were racing off across the grass, following their noses. They may
have only been a few months old, but they certainly developed a surprising
turn of speed that day. I followed at a more leisurely pace so that
Boss and mistress could keep up. It wasn’t difficult to follow the pups’
excited scent trail, but I knew that neither Boss nor mistress would
be able to follow if I just dashed off. You humans just don’t have good
enough noses, you need to see what you are following.
“Sam! Ronja! Greedy! Heel!” Boss was getting quite cross… I could hear
it in his voice. Normally I would obey when I’m called to heel, but
today was different. Now I too could recognise the scent that the storyteller
had described. It was Xanthia’s scent. “Come on Boss and mistress!”
I barked. “Not much further, we’re almost there!” Up ahead I could hear
the sound of excited barking from the pups.
And I could also hear and smell other things that made me begin to
worry. The Great Wolf was coming to call a dog to come hunt with him!
I jumped over one last fence and a terrible sight met my eyes. Ronja
and Greedy had found their mother and were licking her snout excitedly,
telling her their adventures since that terrible stormy night. They
were so excited that they hadn’t noticed the state she was in. Although
Xanthia was wagging her tail happily at seeing her youngsters so fit
and healthy I could see that she was desperately ill. Her ribs stuck
out from her sides like tree roots that had been exposed by flowing
water. From her size I could tell that she should have weighed about
half my weight, but from her appearance I doubted that she even weighed
half that. As for her fur, I think it should have been a light golden
colour, but it was so filthy that I couldn’t be sure, and what’s more
the poor mother stank enough to make even the Great Wolf wrinkle his
nose. Then I noticed the two scruffy alsatians chained up nearby. They
didn’t look much better either. Both were undernourished and their fur
was patchy and tangled where it hadn’t already fallen out in tufts the
size of my paws.
Leaving the pups to their reunion with Xanthia I trotted over to the
nearest alsatian. I crouched respectfully in front of him, “Hello, I’m
Sam.” I told him. “Perhaps the storyteller has told you about me?”
“Welcome youngster. You have managed to find the young ones’ mother
not a moment too soon. She is not well and desperately needs help. The
old storyteller came by a couple of weeks ago and told us you’d be looking
for Xanthia soon. We have not seen our human for many days. No one has
fed us and our water buckets dried up three days ago. Can you help?"
Just then Boss and mistress clambered over the fence. “There you are,
you naughty dogs…” Then Boss saw the other dogs, “Oh no! You poor things.
I wonder where your owner is? How could he do such a thing to you?”
He bent down to examine Xanthia first. “It’s alright girl, I’m not going
to hurt you now. Easy does it. Let’s just have a look at that chain
around your neck… steady…”
Xanthia didn’t have the energy to resist even if she had wanted to.
Here at last was a human who sounded and smelt right. Boss tried to
undo the chain that was digging deeply into her neck. “It’s no good,
I’m going to need some tools to free her.” He looked around. Apart from
the three patches of cleared ground where the dogs were free to move
around their kennels, the land was overgrown with weeds. He turned to
mistress, “It looks as if whoever might have lived around here has gone
away and left these dogs to starve. That shack over there looks like
it hasn’t been lived in for quite a while. Let’s get the car and take
these poor dogs away to somewhere where they can be cared for properly.”
Then he turned to me again, “Sam, stay! We won’t be long.”
I left Ronja and Greedy with Xanthia and sniffed around while Boss
and mistress went to fetch the car. The patch of land where these three
dogs lived was in a terrible state. The storm a few months ago had caused
a lot of damage. Trees lay uprooted and rotting in the hot sun, deep
scars in the earth marked where the floods had gouged the soil away
and there was the skeleton of a dead chicken at the foot of a tree trunk.
Rats and insects had done their work here. It was just as the storyteller
had described. Even the ramshackle hut where Xanthia’s owner had apparently
lived was leaning over and threatening to collapse any moment. There
was no sign that any human had been here for many weeks. I could only
guess at what might have happened. Xanthia’s owner had probably tried
in vain to repair the damage to his land and given up. The two alsatians
helped me piece the puzzle together.
After that terrible storm, which had torn Xanthia out of the tumbling
kennel and separated her from her puppies, their human had spent a few
days trying to repair the damage to his home. He would take the two
males out hunting rabbits and leave Xanthia chained where she was. He
didn’t even try to repair the battered kennel and Xanthia had had to
sleep in the open since that night. For a while, their human shared
the rabbits with his dogs, but after a few weeks there were not many
left in the surrounding countryside and their hunt often went out empty.
In the end their human just filled up the dogs water buckets and disappeared.
They had barked for a long time, but no one came to help. Their only
visitor during the last few weeks had been the storyteller. He had tried
to find food for them, but he was not a big dog and he only managed
to catch a few rats and mice for them to eat. In fact he was out foraging
right now and had promised to come back by nightfall.
Just then I heard a familiar sound; Boss was driving down the lane.
I trotted over to where Greedy and Ronja were busily licking at their
mother’s sores, all the time chattering on about their new home. Xanthia
looked up at me from where she lay, “So you are Sam. The storyteller
has told me much about you. Thank you for finding my litter and keeping
their life force alive.”
From close up I could smell the weeping sores caused by the chain that
had been fastened too tightly around her neck. It was a terrible smell.
“Just hold on for a while, my human is on his way back. We’ll have you
out of here very soon now.” I looked up at Boss and mistress and wondered
if they could add two and two together. If it weren’t for the fact that
Xanthia was so thin and covered with sores it would be easy to see the
similarity between her and Greedy.
Carefully, so as not to hurt
Xanthia more, Boss took a pair of pliers from his toolbox and tried
to cut the rusting chain from her neck. Greedy and Ronja licked at their
mother’s nose and tried to reassure her that all would be well very
soon now. It took quite a bit of cutting and bending but in the end
there was a loud crack as one of the links finally gave way. Although
the chain was now open, it had been fastened so tight around her neck
that the rest of the chain stayed embedded in her flesh. At least she
was free though and Boss wrapped her carefully in a blanket that mistress
had brought along. “Come on old girl, let’s get you to the car and take
your friends here to the vet.” Then he gently pushed the pups aside,
“Come on you two, stop fussing over this poor lady and let me pick her
up… well I’ll be! She’s as light as a feather! Steady on now.” Xanthia
was soon lying comfortably in the back of Boss’ car. Greedy and Ronja
didn’t need any urging, they hopped right in without a fuss and curled
up next to their mother, much to Boss’ surprise. “Hey you two, take
it easy on the old girl!” He said, “Just stay put and don’t crowd her!”
Then it was the alsatians’ turn, but they were not so easy to approach.
No sooner did Boss come within reach of their chains than they began
to bark loudly.
“Don’t come near us or we’ll bite!” They were weak as kittens, but
their teeth still looked dangerous. Then mistress tried to calm them
down, but again to no avail.
Then Boss had an idea. He dug into my favourite jacket pocket and pulled
out one of those bone-shaped biscuits that I so like. “Here Sam,” he
held out a biscuit for me, “see if that big boy with the bad breath
will accept a treat from you.” Now human words don’t usually mean much
to us dogs, we tend more to read your emotions: a proffered biscuit
usually means a treat for us, but this time his meaning was quite clear
– this treat was not for me. “Go on Sam. Take the biscuit over to that
loudmouth and calm him down a bit.”
It wasn’t that difficult to catch Boss’ meaning so I picked up the
biscuit and went over to the barking dog. With what I hoped was a friendly
wag of my tail, I dropped it in front of the bigger dog’s paws, “Hey,
take it easy. We’re here to help you. My humans won’t hurt you. Look,
they even want to give you something to eat.” I nudged at the biscuit.
“We don’t believe you!” The two alsatians barked back, “Look what they’ve
done to Xanthia! They’ve put her in their car! The last time that happened
to her, her puppies were thrown away and she was beaten.”
“Be that as it may, but it wasn’t my humans who did that. Just look
at how well Xanthia’s puppies have grown with us. Does that look like
my humans hurt them?” The two alsatians were half starved and confused,
so I could understand their doubts. I tried again to reassure them,
“I heard the Great Wolf calling just before we arrived. Do you hear
him now? Of course you don’t. That’s because my humans are here to help
you live! Now calm down and let us help you or else we’ll just have
to go away and leave you here to wait for the Great Wolf.”
Despite my efforts to calm them down, the two alsatians barked loudly
every time Boss or mistress came too near. If only they’d let Boss get
close enough, they’d smell that everything was alright.
It was Ronja who saved the day in the end. Even though she was still
only a few months old, she leaped out of the car and raced to where
I was trying to calm the two bigger dogs down.
“If you two stupid grown ups don’t stop wasting our time by not letting
Boss help you then mother will be hunting with the Great Wolf before
we can help her. Now stop being silly and remember what you barked at
us when your owner put us in that plastic bag – WHERE THERE’S LIFE THERE’S
HOPE!”
It
was as if this angry bundle of reddish fur had cast a spell! The two
alsatians shut up immediately. Carefully Boss approached the nearest
dog, “It’s alright old chap, I’m not going to hurt you. Easy now, I
just want to help you. Nice and easy.” He held out his hand so that
the frightened dog could smell that he meant no harm. The dog sniffed
at it, realised his mistake and licked Boss’ hand in apology. »The little one was right. This human is different. Let us let him help
us.«
Now
that the two alsatians had calmed down it didn’t take Boss long to undo
their chains and lead them back to the car where they could see that
we hadn’t harmed Xanthia. They jumped in and settled down beside her
as if they had ridden in the back of a car every day of their lives.
While Boss filled my travelling
bowl with water from the bottle he usually carries in the car when we
have to go for a drive, I went over to the gatepost and left a message
for the storyteller. »This message is for the great and wise storyteller
from Sam Black-dog Labrador. Xanthia and her companions are safe and
well. My human will make sure that they are well cared for. Come and
visit us again soon, you know where to find us.«
“Come on Sam,” I heard Boss call out, “I know you don’t much like sitting
in the back of the car, but we can’t leave you here.” Boss had given
the other dogs some water to drink and was getting ready to go.
It was very crowded and smelly in the back of the car but somehow Greedy
and I managed to keep the rest of our breakfast down during the drive
into town. Yanni the vet examined Xanthia and her companions carefully.
Apart from the injuries to Xanthia’s neck, caused by the tight chain,
the three dogs only needed proper feeding and washing to put things
right.
And a good home of course!
Vangelis from the animal rescue took them in and took care of their
needs for the next few weeks. During that time Boss or mistress would
take the pups and me to visit and to see how they were getting on. By
mid-summer you wouldn’t have been able to recognise them again if you’d
only seen them in that terrible condition in which we found them. Daily
walks and runs down by the sea and plenty of good food had turned them
from moth-eaten bags of fur and bone into healthy and vital dogs.
Now that Xanthia had recovered her true shape and natural fur colour
it was easy enough for even the least experienced human to see that
she was the pups’ mother: Greedy had grown into the spitting image of
her.
But as with all hospital stays, the time came when new owners had to
be found for Xanthia and her friends. Vangelis had at least another
hundred dogs to take care of and although he is probably the most dedicated
animal friend on the island, even his resources are limited. The sick
and starving dogs have to come first.
But it was summer and our humans would often take us down to the seaside
for a romp on the beach and a paddle in the sea. Many of the visitors
would moan and grumble that dogs should be allowed to play on the tourist
beaches, but there were still many others who admired the puppies and
petted them. (Not that I didn’t get my fair share of friendly and admiring
pats!). Whenever that happened Boss would tell the tourist about how
we found them and how Vangelis from the animal rescue centre was taking
care of her mother and other mistreated dogs. And each time they heard
of how Greedy and Ronja had been found in a plastic bag the tourists
would shake their heads and say things like “Shame” or “How can someone
treat such beautiful puppies so cruelly”. A few humans even wanted to
take Greedy and Ronja home with them, but Boss and mistress would always
refuse, saying that they were part of our family.
I don’t remember how many times Boss and mistress told that story but
quite often, when we visited Xanthia, I would overhear Vangelis telling
them that a tourist had come by and taken one of his dogs home with
them.
Then came the sad day when we drove to the animal rescue centre and
found that Xanthia was gone. We asked around the other dogs and found
out that a couple of tourists from Germany had fallen in love with her.
She too had taken a shine to the humans that had chosen her and had
gone for a few walks with her new humans before they finally took her
away. But before she had left the animal rescue centre, the other dogs
told us that she had left a message. There was an older dog in one of
the kennels in a far corner of their garden and would we please be so
kind as to visit him, because he had memorised it well.
While Boss was chatting to Vangelis about how many dogs had been taken
by tourists this season, Greedy, Ronja and I trotted over to the kennel
that had been pointed out to us.
“Hello youngsters, I am glad to see that you found Xanthia in the end,”
said a familiar voice.
“Oh storyteller!” the pups yelped with delight and started to jump
and hop all over the old dog as if he were a puppy once more.
“Settle down girls! Take it easy on an old fellow like me.” he laughed
in his gruff old dog manner. “I only let myself be caught by the human
that runs this place so that I could see how your mother was getting
on. As soon as I have passed on her last message I’ll be off again…although
the thought of finding a human family to live with does seem quite tempting
after all I have seen here. But no, there are still a lot of dogs here
who need cheering up and to learn that not all humans are unkind. I’ve
still got a lot of work ahead of me. Now sit down and listen to your
mother’s farewell.”
Greedy and Ronja did as they were told and I lay down in the grass
next to them so that my eyes were on their level. The storyteller began
to speak:
»To
Greedy and Ronja I say farewell. I have now found kind owners who smell
right. In fact they have a little of your humans’ scent about them,
so I know that I will be in good hands for the rest of my days. Do not
worry about me my little ones, for you can rest assured that I am now
living with humans that can learn to trust. Ever since you and Sam found
me and brought me here I have seen only kind and gentle humans. It has
shown me that there are indeed many kind humans in the world and that
just because we have never seen them doesn’t mean that they are just
made up by the storyteller. You have a good home with your humans now,
so I can go with my new humans in the knowledge that you will be cared
for. Sam was a good mother to you while you were small and now he will
be a good father, brother and friend. May the Dog Star guide you well
and the Great Wolf not call you for many years. Never forget though:
Where there is life, there is hope! That is why you must always hang
on to life – it is not just for you, but for dogs everywhere.”