A Different Dog Read online

  It was the Morning Rooster.

  I stopped running. I stopped crying. I stopped thinking. There was nothing in my head. Nothing at all. I just walked and walked.

  In the end I saw Mum coming the other way. She was crying. She gave me a big hug and said I was naughty for running off.

  She said, ‘Where’s Deefer? Did you let him off the chain?’

  I didn’t speak. I didn’t tell her.

  She said, ‘Never mind. He’ll come home. He’ll get hungry and come home.’

  I didn’t say anything. My feet were sore. Mum picked me up and carried me.

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

  Deefer did not come home. Ever. The Morning Rooster had taken him away.

  Mum tried to get me to tell her what had happened. But there was nothing inside my head.

  She took me to the doctor.

  I tried to talk to him but I couldn’t get the words out properly. I got stuck on ‘dog’. I got stuck on ‘duck’. And I got stuck on ‘Deefer’. I couldn’t talk properly.

  I can sing. But you can’t sing instead of talking. Or everyone will think you are nuts.

  But I can talk to you, Chase. And other animals. But I get stuck with… people.

  * * *

  The boy still lay on the beam with his arms and legs dangling on either side. A gentle breeze brushed his face. He sat up with his eyes still closed and reached out a hand.

  But he felt nothing. The air was empty.

  He opened his eyes.

  The dog had gone.

  The boy looked down at the river far below but could not see Chase. He scanned the white water for any sign of a bobbing body. But he knew that it was hopeless. If the dog had fallen into the water it could not have survived.

  Now nothing seemed to matter. The boy dropped forward again. He rested his face sideways, clenched his teeth and waited for the end.

  His mind began to wander. An image of his mother floated into his mind. She would have been awake for ages now and would think he was running in the race.

  The thought of a mattress on the floor and the remains of a bed burning in the fireplace seemed wondrous. He would give anything to be there, sitting in front of a fire. Especially if there was a loyal dog warming itself with him.

  Something made him sit up.

  He saw the dog.

  It was walking along the edge of the cliff on the far side of the bridge. It was moving briskly up and down a small ledge. Each time it reached the end of the ledge it would turn and head back again in the other direction. It never paused for even a second.

  The dog continued to pace in this way, moving confidently. It reminded the boy of someone striding back and forth trying to exercise in a small room.

  He wanted to call out to the dog. But something told him not to. Instead he carefully raised himself onto his hands and knees. And began to crawl forward.

  ‘I’m coming, Chase,’ he whispered.

  Crawling was still dangerous but not as bad as walking on the beam and carrying a dog at the same time. The boy tried to distract himself by watching Chase pace up and down on the small stretch of cliff.

  Finally he reached the last beam, which he crossed at a snail’s pace. He scrambled onto firm earth and fell on his face, kissing the damp soil.

  ‘Made it,’ he said.

  Despite the fact that he was safe, the boy’s heart sank as he looked around. The shelf was about as wide as a car and not much longer. A crescent-shaped cliff stood solidly in front of him like the wall of a prison. Behind him the river rushed and splashed at the foot of a sheer drop. There was no way down.

  The dog continued to walk back and forth, unable to escape.

  ‘Here, Chase,’ he said.

  The dog took no notice but kept walking briskly along the ledge, turning quickly each time it reached either end.

  Half-buried railway sleepers marked out the remains of the old railway line. They crossed the narrow ledge and ended in a pile of rubble. At the top of the rubble he could see a black hole.

  ‘A tunnel,’ the boy said.

  He scrambled up and peered in. All was dark but he could make out a small circle of light at the other end.

  The dog continued to walk briskly without stopping. It was panting heavily, with its tongue hanging out. Saliva dripped from its mouth. The boy could tell that it was weary. He scrambled down.

  ‘Stop, Chase,’ he said. ‘Come here.’

  The dog continued to pace the cliff, its eyes staring ahead in tired desperation.

  The boy was desperate too. ‘It’s stop or die,’ he said.

  He placed himself in front of the dog, held his arms apart and faced the other direction. He opened his legs and waited until the dog passed under him.

  He grabbed the dog around its rib cage and straightened up.

  ‘Gotcha,’ he said.

  The dog continued to walk with its legs swimming in the air, going nowhere.

  ‘Stop,’ yelled the boy. ‘Stop, stop, stop.’

  But the dog did not stop and the boy knew that he could not hold it for long.

  The boy scrambled up the pile of rocks. He tried to shove Chase into the tunnel.

  ‘Get up,’ he grunted. ‘Go, go, go.’

  The dog’s legs continued to move in a walking motion and they sent small stones and gravel falling down into the boy’s face.

  He fell backwards down the pile, taking the dog with him. It immediately sprang to its feet and continued its mad pacing.

  ‘Stop it, Chase,’ he yelled. ‘What do you want me to do?’ He fell to his knees. ‘Please. Stop. I beg you.’

  Chase hesitated and was still.

  For a moment.

  Then the tired animal suddenly stood up on two legs, bent its front paws downwards and began to stagger towards him.

  It was begging. Walking forward on its hind legs. Still dressed in the pink parka it looked like …

  ‘A performing dog,’ yelled the boy. ‘You’re doing tricks.’

  The dog continued its dreadful begging walk. It was totally exhausted and began to totter.

  ‘Stop,’ said the boy. His word had no effect. He searched his mind for another. ‘Freeze,’ he commanded.

  The poor animal stopped walking forward but remained balancing on its two back legs like a statue. It was a quivering, living sculpture.

  The boy searched for other words but could find none. He recalled words that his mother had unsuccessfully used on Deefer.

  ‘Stay.’

  The dog did not move.

  ‘Sit.’

  The dog fell onto its four legs and trotted over to a low rock. It sat down on its backside like an old man taking a rest. One leg crossed over the other.

  The boy hung his head, still searching for a word that would make the dog stop performing.

  ‘Relax,’ he said. ‘End, over, that’s enough.’

  Still the dog sat in the unnatural pose with its legs crossed.

  The boy dredged his mind. Finally he came up with one more word.

  ‘Desist.’

  The dog uncrossed its legs and lay panting on the ground like any pet who has returned to the fire on a cold evening after a run in the park. It glanced up him with a look that could have been gratitude.

  ‘I wish you were mine,’ said the boy.

  They sat in silence for a long time. Finally the boy spoke.

  ‘I’ll tell you something, Chase. Don’t beg. Some people beg because they have nothing and you can’t blame them for that. But never do it just to give someone pleasure. Mum says that sort of begging is bad.’

  The boy looked up and groaned as he realised his mistake.

  Chase was tottering around on two legs with bent paws.

  ‘Stop, stop, stop,’ the boy yelled. ‘I’m sorry. Stop. I mean desist.’

  Immediately Chase fell back into a resting position. The boy scratched him behind the ear and said nothing, afraid that any word could send the poor cr
eature into another crazy act. He searched his mind for words that he had used before that might have started the dog performing. He found five: home, freeze, walk, sit and beg.

  He sat there thinking. A lightbulb popped in his head.

  ‘The earmuffs,’ he exclaimed. ‘They weren’t there to keep your ears warm. They were to stop you…’

  He paused and looked sadly at the dog.

  ‘I’m sorry, boy,’ he said. ‘I must be careful what I say.’

  He reached into the backpack.

  ‘I think you might be hungry.’

  He took out the remains of the stale sandwich and dropped it in front of the dog.

  The dog gulped the sandwich down and then stood up.

  ‘I know,’ said the boy. ‘It’s time to go. We have to find the road before dark.’

  He pictured his mother preparing a meal. Trying to make the best of the cheapest food. All they could afford. He imagined her looking up at the door as she waited for him to come home. But who was waiting for Chase? His owner was dead.

  The boy stood up and put on his backpack. He was about to say, ‘Home,’ but thought better of it.

  He pointed and the dog gave a small yelp, scrambled up the rocky pile and disappeared into the tunnel. The boy followed.

  Five

  In no time at all they were blinking in the daylight at the other end of the short tunnel.

  The forest was fast growing dark and the boy knew that they must travel quickly.

  ‘The race will be nearly over by now,’ he said. ‘And they will all be on their last lap down the mountain. We have to get back to the road.’

  He looked with dismay at the remains of the railway line. The wooden sleepers had been removed long ago and the trail had vanished in the undergrowth.

  ‘I don’t know where to go,’ he said to the dog. ‘I’m lost. But you know the way.’

  He could have saved his breath. Chase was already moving through the forest, stopping every now and then to sniff the ground.

  ‘Yes,’ yelled the boy. ‘Yes, yes, yes.’

  They both seemed to have found new energy but soon they were panting as they plunged down through the forest. Every now and then Chase would stop and wait for him to catch up. The boy sensed that the poor animal felt sorry for him. Or did it want something?

  The last of the light glinted from the wet road as boy and dog finally broke out of the forest. Both were totally exhausted. The boy took off his backpack and sat on it. Chase dropped to the ground and curled up at his feet.

  ‘We’re safe now,’ said the boy. ‘Soon we can make our way ho …’

  He paused and smiled and did not complete the word. But instead, ‘…where we want to go.’

  They both stayed perfectly still, too tired to move. The dog continued to sleep so the boy sat there in silence as the evening drew closer.

  ‘We’d better go,’ the boy finally said.

  But at that moment, Chase pricked up his ears and stared down the road.

  ‘What is it?’ said the boy.

  A few seconds passed. And then he heard it. A siren. The sound of a vehicle coming up the mountain. An orange light blinked and flashed through the trees below. The sound grew louder.

  A truck with a ladder on top rounded the bend with blaring siren and flashing lights. It slowed and then skidded to a halt.

  Four men and two women in orange rescue vests were crowded into the twin cab.

  The front side window dropped and a woman’s friendly but serious face appeared.

  ‘The runners have found a van up here somewhere,’ she said. ‘It’s gone over the edge. A man and his performing dog. Do you know where they are?’

  The boy opened his mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come. He opened and closed his mouth trying to force sounds from his throat. The woman looked concerned, sensing that something was wrong.

  ‘Are you okay?’ she said.

  He nodded and pointed up the road.

  ‘Thanks,’ said the woman.

  The driver released the brake and the van sped off and disappeared around the corner.

  ‘You’re too late,’ the boy said to himself. ‘The man is d …’ He looked at the dog. ‘Not with us anymore.’

  But now the dog was looking uphill. Something else had caught its attention.

  ‘What is it?’ the boy said.

  Chase gave a little whimper.

  After a short while the boy heard laughing voices and the sound of feet crunching on the gravel.

  It was Skinny Luke and his sister. And a group of other boys all wearing running gear and shorts.

  The dog jumped nervously to its feet.

  ‘Look who it is,’ yelled Skinny Luke.

  ‘Goldfish mouth,’ said his sister.

  ‘The Gar-bag Kid,’ said Skinny Luke.

  ‘Get a load of the dog,’ said another voice. ‘Wearing a parka.’

  They began to laugh scornfully.

  The boy looked nervously from face to face.

  The gang formed a circle around the dog, which continued to whimper.

  ‘It’s the missing performing dog,’ said Skinny Luke. ‘Play dead,’ he yelled.

  The dog rolled over onto its back with its legs sticking up stiffly, pointing to the sky. A laugh went up from the crowd.

  The boy tried to push through the circle but the mob would not let him.

  ‘Sit,’ Skinny Luke shouted.

  Hoots of laughter filled the air as the dog dragged itself through the crowd to a fallen log on the side of the road, sat on its backside and crossed its legs.

  The boy opened his mouth to scream in protest but nothing came. The crowd laughed loudly at his agony. Two of the gang held him by the arms.

  Skinny Luke’s sister bent over and picked up a stick from the side of the road.

  ‘Fetch,’ she said as she hurled the stick into the forest.

  The dog managed to find enough strength to trot slowly into the forest. It disappeared into the undergrowth. It was gone for some time and the forest was silent except for the sound of snuffling. Finally it returned and wearily dropped the stick at the girl’s feet.

  The mob laughed and cheered.

  Skinny Luke’s sister picked up the stick and held it behind her head, steadying herself for the next throw.

  But before she could do it another command was uttered.

  ‘Beg.’

  The exhausted dog stood up on its hind legs and began to totter with its front paws hanging down. By now the crowd was howling. Tears of mirth fell down their cheeks. Skinny Luke’s sister fell to the ground holding her sides in delighted pain.

  The boy ran to the dog and tried to lift it to stop the poor animal’s agony. But Skinny Luke grabbed him from behind and shoved him aside.

  As one command followed another the weary dog obeyed. Once again a circus act. No mind of its own. Helplessly performing one trick after another. The boy ran from one tormentor to the next. Grabbing them, pushing his hand over their mouths.

  ‘Walk.’

  ‘Jump.’

  ‘Freeze.’

  The dog immediately stopped begging and stood like a statue glued to the road.

  The boy struggled to say something before another order could be spoken. But not a sound came from his mouth.

  Skinny Luke’s sister laughed scornfully.

  ‘Spit it out,’ she said.

  The boy fought for words. Like a dental patient trying to answer a question with his mouth open, he could only gurgle.

  ‘He can’t do it,’ said Skinny Luke.

  ‘Can’t do what?’ said one of the tormentors.

  Skinny Luke spat out the word gleefully.

  ‘Speak.’

  The dog immediately unfroze and began to yip. It continued with exhausted cries, yip-yapping and howling with its head turned up to the dark sky. On and on and on.

  The mob fell about with laughter. They pushed and shoved each other with glee.

  ‘It’s talking,’ shrieked S
kinny Luke’s sister.

  The boy ran over to the dog and tried to hold its jaws together with his trembling fingers. Anything to stop the dreadful parody.

  Suddenly the dog gave a little whimper through closed jaws and fell silent. Its eyes met the boy’s, and something passed between them. There on the road in the forest, boy and dog spoke to each other without words.

  Without knowing it, the boy released his hold. The dog opened its mouth again.

  And found its own voice.

  With lips pulled back over angry teeth the dog began to growl and crawl towards the now silent mob. The dog’s angry rumble flowed towards them like molten lava. Crouching low, inching towards its persecutors with smouldering eyes it began to bark and snap. Looking at legs and soft flesh.

  Darting in and out.

  The terrified crowd turned and fled down the road. Falling, pushing, screaming as the dog snapped at their heels.

  The mob vanished around the corner. The dog stopped and looked back at the boy and knew instinctively that the chase was over. It dropped panting by the side of the road.

  The boy walked to the dog, crouched down and put his arms around the animal’s neck. They were both exhausted but Chase found enough energy to raise his snout and lick the boy’s face.

  They sat there in silence in the deepening shadows.

  Finally there was the sound of an approaching vehicle. A fire truck swept past them, slowed and stopped. It reversed back and the boy saw a blue tarpaulin on the tray of the truck. He instantly knew what lay beneath it. His legs began to tremble.

  Once again a window dropped and the same woman’s face appeared.

  She nodded at Chase.

  ‘Who owns that dog?’ she said.

  The question hung in the air unanswered.

  Then the boy took a deep breath and sang his answer in a clear soprano voice. The tune was stolen but the words were his.

  ‘It is mine. It is mine. It is mine.’

  Six

  It was dark when the rescue workers dropped the boy and his dog outside the front gate. He knew that he was late and his mother would be worried.

  A light glowed warmly from the windows.

  ‘We made it,’ the boy said. ‘You’ll be safe here, Chase. But you have one last trick to work on. You have to learn disobedience. I’m going to reward you for not doing what you’re told.’