A Different Dog Read online

  After a long time he heard the sound of distant voices. He wiped his cheeks and looked up towards the unseen road. The race had begun. The runners were making their way down the mountain. Hundreds of them. He imagined them picking their way around the remaining patches of hail.

  He opened his mouth again to shout. But nothing came. It never came.

  ‘Why can’t I do it, fellah?’ he said. ‘Why can’t I get the words out?’

  He stared at the van.

  A thought began to burrow out from his brain.

  ‘Yes, yes, yes. That’s it.’

  He ran over to the driver’s dangling door and, trying not to look at the dead man, pressed the button in the centre of the steering wheel.

  Nothing.

  He pressed again, frantically. Time after time after time.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  Like himself, the car could not speak. The horn was silent.

  He looked around desperately.

  ‘Yes, that will do.’

  He picked up a moss-covered rock and began to bang it on the bent bonnet.

  Clang, clang, clang.

  Each strike rang through the trees and then faded. Absorbed by the wet forest like water soaking into a sponge.

  He smashed the rock onto the metal until his fingers burned with cold.

  ‘It’s no good,’ he said. ‘They will never hear.’

  He sat down again next to the dog where it still lay on its side, breathing gently, eyes closed.

  ‘Don’t die, dog,’ he said. ‘Please don’t die.’

  He stroked its head with shaking hands.

  ‘Can you hear me, dog?’ he whispered. ‘I know you are alive.’

  The dog suddenly opened its eyes. Confused. Looking at him. Unblinking.

  ‘Good dog,’ he cried out. ‘Good dog.’

  He began to feel the animal’s soft fur, searching for injuries.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he said. ‘Are you hurt?’

  He examined each leg carefully. They were hard and strong. The dog began to stretch under his touch. He touched the soft skin around its neck. And the bony tail. The dog began to wag it. Then it licked his hand.

  The boy discovered a lump behind the dog’s ear. ‘I think you’re okay, fellah,’ he said. ‘You have been knocked out. But now you’re back.’

  The dog stood up and shook itself as if it had just emerged from a swim. It didn’t seem to mind the pink parka.

  Then it looked at the boy with sad, hopeful eyes.

  ‘I have bad news for you,’ the boy said. ‘Are you ready, my friend?’

  The dog continued to stare.

  ‘You can’t say anything, can you, dog?’ he said. ‘Like me.’

  The dog’s eyes turned to the car.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the boy said. ‘He is gone.’

  Three

  The dog walked slowly towards the van. It whimpered, and pawed at the leg of the dead man.

  ‘It’s no good, fellah,’ said the boy. ‘He’s not going to move. He’s …

  He couldn’t bring himself to say the word dead.

  Instead he said, ‘Passed on.’

  The dog whimpered again and then sat on the damp ground. And stared expectantly as if waiting for advice.

  The boy looked up at the steep cliff face and pointed.

  ‘That’s where we have to go,’ he said. ‘But it’s very steep. We have go up there. Somehow or other. That’s the way home.’

  The dog gave one more whimper and began to walk downhill, as if rejecting the suggested route.

  ‘Not down there. Home.’

  The dog stopped and looked at the boy. Then it continued its journey, pausing every now and then to sniff the ground.

  ‘Come back. Not that way. It’s too far. And you might get lost.’

  The dog paid no attention and vanished behind a clump of ferns.

  The boy grabbed the backpack and then gave a little shiver.

  He followed without thinking. He cared about the man but he had to save the dog. That was his only purpose as he plunged deeper and deeper into the dense forest.

  The boy stumbled many times as he hurried after the dog. He worried that it would outpace him and disappear.

  He mumbled to himself. ‘Hang on a bit, dog. Wait up. Don’t forget me. What’s your hurry?’

  The dog sniffed and snorted and panted and determinedly continued its journey.

  Soon the boy lost all sense of where he was. It was dark and gloomy beneath the high trunks and green treetops. The only direction he could be sure of was down.

  And suddenly he was on his own.

  ‘Come back, dog,’ he yelled. ‘Don’t leave me. I’ll freeze. And so will you.’

  There was no reply from the silent forest.

  ‘I’m lost,’ he said to himself. ‘I could end up … here alone. Like the man.’

  He looked around and up. One tree loomed above all the others.

  ‘I won’t move out of sight of that gum tree,’ he said.

  He began to walk in a circle, always keeping the lofty tree in sight.

  ‘Where are you hiding, dog?’ he said.

  Minutes passed. Then an hour or more. He walked slowly, circling, pushing through the undergrowth.

  ‘I’m looking for you, dog,’ he called. ‘Can you hear me? Or are you back at the road? Have you forgotten me? Left me? It’s getting colder.’

  The words had no sooner left his lips than he saw the dog. Standing still in a small clearing. Locked into position, its legs braced as firmly as those of a statue.

  ‘Are you alive, fellah?’ the boy said.

  He ran over and hugged the dog but it did not respond.

  ‘I can see your breath still steaming in the air,’ he said as he had once before. ‘And I can feel your heart beating.’

  The dog gave no response. It stood there, rigid.

  ‘It’s okay, dog,’ he said. ‘It’s just me.’

  The dog’s eyes stared. Unblinking.

  The boy stood up and patted his hands against his thighs.

  ‘Here, fellah,’ he said.

  But the dog didn’t move.

  ‘Okay, my friend,’ said the boy. ‘Be like that. See if I care. I’m going to sit down and wait. You won’t be able to stand there forever.’

  He looked for a dry patch and sat down with his back against a tree. Then he searched in his backpack and found the chicken and cheese sandwich he had packed the night before. He held it out to the dog.

  ‘Here, fellah,’ he said. ‘Are you hungry?’

  The dog remained in place, stiff and still.

  The boy took a bite from the sandwich and chomped loudly.

  ‘Delicious,’ he said. ‘This is a very nice chicken and cheese sandwich, dog. It’s old cheese and dry chicken and stale bread. Because we’re poor and Mum hasn’t got much money for hamburgers and things. But I like this sandwich and so will you.’

  He held it out and tried again.

  ‘Any dog would like this sandwich. Come on, fellah, have a bite.’

  Still the dog did not move.

  ‘You are a stubborn dog,’ said the boy. ‘Here, have this.’

  He tore off a piece of the sandwich and threw it to the dog. It fell short by about a metre.

  The dog did not move. Not even an eyeball.

  ‘Go on,’ said the boy. ‘It’s yours.’

  He slumped back against the tree.

  ‘Maybe you’re hurt,’ he said.

  He thought about it a bit more.

  ‘Are you paralysed? Or are you in a coma? I’ll wait.’

  He closed his eyes, and soon was sleeping fitfully.

  When the boy awoke he saw at once that the pale sun was no longer overhead, but had moved behind the treetops.

  The dog was still standing in its rigid position. It was shivering violently.

  ‘Maybe it’s all in your mind,’ said the boy.

  He thought of something he had heard
his mother say.

  ‘Maybe you’re having a mid-life crisis.’

  He tried again.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  The dog didn’t even move its eyes.

  ‘You made me chase you,’ said the boy. ‘So I will call you Chase. Chase the dog.’

  The dog continued to shiver.

  ‘If we stay here, Chase, we’ll …’ He didn’t want to use the terrible word.

  ‘We have to go,’ he said.

  He stomped his icy feet and jogged on the spot, rubbing his hands while he did so. Then he picked up the scrap of sandwich that he had thrown to the dog and chewed it slowly. He carefully wrapped the rest of the sandwich and put it back in his pack.

  ‘Come on, Chase,’ he said. ‘The time has come.’

  He squatted down, put his arms beneath the dog and stood up.

  ‘You’re heavy, Chase,’ he said. ‘But you’re not a burden.’

  He began to walk, taking each step carefully down the slippery embankment.

  ‘I can’t carry you uphill,’ he said. ‘So we have to go down.’

  The forest was unfamiliar. And the going was difficult, with closely packed undergrowth often blocking his way. He continued his descent with the dog held to his chest.

  ‘You’re getting heavier, Chase,’ he said. ‘I need a rest.’

  He carefully put the stiff dog onto the ground where it stood on its legs without moving. The boy listened for a friendly sound. But there was nothing.

  Finally he said, ‘I can only talk to myself. And animals. But here you are. You can’t talk at all. If you weren’t paralysed you could bark.’

  They sat in silence for a long time.

  Finally the boy said, ‘Listen, I can hear something.’

  The dog did not move.

  ‘The river,’ he yelled. ‘Down there.’

  He grabbed the dog and began to stumble down the steep slope.

  ‘Be careful,’ he said to himself. ‘You can’t fall. Not with Chase in your arms.’

  He broke through a tangled net of vines and gasped. He was on the very edge of a high cliff. Far below, the mountain stream rushed on its way, swirling and splashing over rocks and fallen trees.

  ‘Look, Chase,’ he said.

  Chase did not look.

  The boy drew a deep breath and stared at the line of poles and beams, which crossed the river like the spine of a dead dinosaur.

  ‘It’s the old railway bridge,’ he said. ‘We learned about it in History.’

  He continued, on and down, not wanting to reach the bridge because stepping onto it would almost certainly end in a fall. He listened for a friendly call or the chopping sound of a helicopter. He looked for a flash of orange from an SES jacket.

  ‘They don’t even know I’m gone,’ he said to the silent dog.

  He pushed forward and finally stumbled across the overgrown track. He looked uphill.

  ‘It goes up to the old goldmine, Chase,’ he said. ‘And on the other side it goes back to the road. But first we have to cross the bridge.’

  When he reached the remains of the bridge he saw that it was worse than he thought. The raging river rushed on its way far below the beams.

  His knees wobbled at the thought of attempting to cross. The words of Skinny Luke crept into his mind – how he had told him to talk or walk.

  ‘I can’t do either,’ he said to the stiff and silent dog. ‘I can’t talk properly when there are people listening.’ He winced as the thought hit him like a slap on the face.

  He stared into the forest and opened his mouth to yell. To cry out for help. But the words would not come. He began to tremble. His eyes bulged. His mouth was jammed open. It felt as if an invisible stick was holding his jaws apart. Not a sound came from his mouth.

  He gave up the effort and looked down at the dog.

  ‘I can’t even call out the word help to someone who’s probably not even there, Chase,’ he said. ‘But I can try to get over that bridge. And I will. We have to get to the road before dark.’

  With the dog still shivering and frozen in his arms, the boy took a nervous step onto the first narrow beam.

  Four

  The drop to the river yawned beneath him. The single row of beams was terrifyingly high.

  ‘Don’t look down,’ he said to himself. He had heard of that advice being given to people stuck in high places. But it was almost impossible to follow it.

  Placing one shaking foot carefully in front of the other he began to move forward. One, two, three … eleven, twelve, thirteen steps. The beam was damp and slippery.

  He started to wobble. He felt the need to spread his arms like a tightrope walker, but how could he? The dog would fall.

  ‘Chase,’ he whispered. ‘I can’t let you go. But I can’t go on with you like this. I’m losing my balance.’

  He looked down at the rushing river.

  ‘And we will both … die.’

  The terrible word turned his legs to jelly.

  He bent his knees slightly and began to lower himself onto the narrow beam until he was in a squatting position. With trembling hands he held the dog out in front of him and turned it around so that it was facing the other side of the bridge. The dog was unbearably heavy in this position and the boy could not support the weight any longer.

  ‘No,’ he screamed as the dog slipped from his hands. It landed, still standing stiffly with each leg just on an edge of the narrow beam.

  The boy knew that one puff of wind, one vibration of the beam or one thoughtless movement would send the dog tumbling into space.

  But he could not stay squatting for one second more. He fell down onto his knees and then lowered his backside onto the beam. Now he was sitting with his knees up under his chin. He dropped his legs so that he was straddling the beam.

  The dog stood still, helplessly awaiting its fate. Frozen like a statue of ice. It stared along the line of beams to the other side with unseeing eyes.

  The boy could not go forward without knocking the dog from its perch. And he couldn’t turn around in his sitting position. All he could do was wriggle backwards.

  He couldn’t bear to look at the dog and watch it fall so he screwed up his eyes to shut out the world.

  ‘I’m sorry, Chase,’ he said. ‘I can’t help you. If I touch you it might make you fall.’

  He dropped forward and let his arms droop down on either side of the beam. Now all four limbs were hanging down, holding him in place. He rested his face on the splintery wood with his eyes closed, waiting, unable to watch the dog’s inevitable fate.

  ‘I can’t talk and I can’t walk,’ he gasped. ‘I can’t talk and I can’t walk.’

  Seconds passed. Then minutes. His last word seemed to hang mockingly in the air.

  The boy tried to distract his thoughts. He needed something to stop him from opening his eyes to the terrible sight of the raging river below.

  ‘I’ll tell you a story, Chase,’ he said. ‘A true story. If you listen carefully you might not fall.’

  * * *

  When I was little I had a dog. Not as big as you. But he was thin and fast. He could chase rabbits and even catch hares. Hares are hard to catch. They can change direction at full speed and the dog runs past them before it can stop and turn back.

  I called him Deefer. Mum gave him to me on my sixth birthday. He was my dog.

  At night Deefer was put on a chain in his kennel to stop him running away. He was not allowed off until Mum got up.

  One morning while Mum was still asleep I went out to pat him. He was pulling at his chain. He wanted to get off. I felt sorry for him. So I let him go.

  Right then a hare ran across the paddock. ‘Come back,’ I yelled. ‘Come back.’

  But Deefer did not come back. He went like a rocket after that hare. He was across the paddock and off down the road and gone.

  I ran after him. I was only a little kid so I was slow. But I kept running. I ran and ran and ran. Soon I didn’t know whe
re I was. I was lost. I sat down and cried. I cried.

  ‘Where are you, Deefer?’ I said. I sat there on the side of the dirt road for a long time. I was tired. And thirsty.

  Then I heard a voice. It was a man shouting. I walked through the trees and saw a little farmhouse. A man with a beard stood inside the fence of a chook run. He was yelling at Deefer.

  I ran across the paddock. The man was picking up little ducklings. Seven little ducklings. They were all dead. And Deefer was crouching in the dust with his jaw on the ground. The man was yelling at him and Deefer was scared.

  ‘Damn dog,’ the man shouted. ‘Damn dog, damn dog.’

  He looked up and saw me.

  ‘What happened to the little ducks?’ I said.

  ‘This damned dog killed them,’ he said. ‘They’re pets. They belong to my kids. And they’ll be coming home from school soon.’

  He held out one of the ducklings. Its neck was flopping down and its eyes just stared.

  ‘What will I tell my kids?’ he said. ‘The ducklings all have names. He started waving them at me. ‘This one is Gingerbread. And this is Sam. And this is Little Mack.’

  Deefer was still crouching down in the corner. He gave a squeal.

  The man shouted, ‘Someone is going to pay for this. I’ll sue. I’ll make them pay. The person who let this dog run around the countryside will pay.’

  Then he stared at me.

  ‘Is that your dog?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not yours?’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘Where do you live?’

  I was frightened. I couldn’t get the words out. I opened my mouth but nothing came.

  The man looked at me. He didn’t say anything more. I didn’t say anything more.

  He stepped out of the chook cage with the dead ducklings in his hands and used his bum to slam the gate shut.

  Deefer was locked inside.

  ‘Go home,’ said the man. ‘Go home and don’t come back.’

  I turned and ran. I ran across the paddock. I ran and ran and ran until I reached the road. I was lost. I walked along crying. Then I heard a loud noise. Like the crack of a breaking stick.