The Good Dog (15 page)

McKinley, with eyes and ears only for Redburn, ignored the pup.

“Steamboat dogs,” the setter went on, “I called this meeting because we all have been placed in serious jeopardy. McKinley allowed a savage wolf to come among us. By doing so he defied our humans' wishes. McKinley has endangered
us by making the humans think of us as uncivilized beasts!

“Steamboat dogs, our humans feed us, shelter us,” Redburn barked excitedly. “In return, we must do what they want. That's the way we should live. In complete obedience. It's the civilized way.

“And that's why I called this meeting. I, Redburn, among all Steamboat dogs, have the greatest trust of the humans. Because they admire me so much, you should make
me
head dog.”

Boots and Jaws lifted their heads and barked their noisy approval.

In response, other dogs barked and howled. “Answer him, McKinley! Answer Redburn's charges!”

McKinley, still sitting, looked around. He barked briskly once, twice.

The dogs instantly hushed themselves.

Up on the hill, Redburn tossed his head importantly, but sat down.

“Steamboat dogs,” McKinley began from his place, “Redburn is right: We were visited by a
wolf. Lupin is her name. She came down to us from the Zirkel Wilderness. Her mission was to bring dogs back to her home so they could help increase her diminishing wolf pack.

“She may have been a stranger, but Steamboat dogs, she is our kin. These wolves are what we once were. If for no other reason, we owe wolves our respect, our courtesy.

“As for this Lupin, she is more powerful than me. She is so strong that I bowed before her.”

There was an eruption of growls, barks, and whimpers from the dogs.

“See, see!” Redburn barked excitedly. “McKinley bowed before the wolf. He gave away his leadership! I'd never do such a thing. It's I who should be our leader!”

“But I must also tell you,” McKinley continued, his barks rising above Redburn's, “that this Lupin was nearly caught by some humans—led by a dog. The humans would have killed this kin of ours if they could. But even though the wolf was wounded, she managed to escape.

“Steamboat dogs, listen to me. There is one dog among us who helped the humans hunt Duchess, an abused dog—as some of you know. Duchess only wanted her freedom. In seeking to free her, Lupin came to be wounded. Shot by a long gun. And when she was bleeding, that same dog tried to hunt her down again. The dog who did all this was—Redburn.”

At the mention of his name, Redburn began to bark furiously. “Steamboat dogs, listen! McKinley gave up his authority. To a stranger. You heard him admit it. By bowing to this wolf he went against what's best for us! We need stronger leadership.”

Most dogs on the hill began to bark and bay at him, “Traitor. Turncoat! Lapdog! Pet!”

The setter barked more fiercely than ever. “No, you're not paying attention! I should be the pack leader. I'd never give way to a wolf.”

There was an uproar of barks. Jack reached for McKinley, who glanced at him and saw fear in his eyes.

“Curs!” Redburn snapped at the dogs. “Mutts! Mongrels! Listen to your better!”

At these taunts the dogs, on their feet now, only increased their yowls.

McKinley watched tensely as some of the dogs began to move up the hill. At first Redburn stood his ground and only barked at them furiously. But as more dogs began to close in, he and his friends started to back away.

Suddenly, McKinley stood, his paws braced wide on the snowy ground. His chest seemed to expand with strength. His great tail curved over his broad, black back, the fur of which had risen with tension. Then he opened his mouth wide and exposed his teeth, too, wrinkling his nose to do so. From his chest he let forth a deep, rumbling growl.

Instantly, the other dogs hushed. Those inching up the hill halted. Even Redburn shut his mouth and paid attention.

“Steamboat dogs,” McKinley barked into the deep silence, “I say that Redburn is a dog who does whatever humans tell him instead of honoring the
best interests of our pack. Or of any needful dog. Redburn is a leash-licker! A groveler. A slave to every human whim, willing to crawl into the lap of any human who offers to pat him on the head. Yes, Redburn is a dog, but he is without a dog's dignity.”

The assembled dogs began to growl angrily. “Bad dog!” they yapped at Redburn. “Bad dog! You should be ashamed of yourself. Bad dog!”

Those dogs on the hill began to advance again, snarling and yapping. Others joined them to surround the setter.

While the tumult grew and the dogs edged closer, Redburn seemed to shrink in size. He made an effort to lift his head as if to protest, snapping this way and that. Then, as even more dogs crowded up the hill, he, Jaws, and Boots began to retreat.

The dog closest to Redburn darted forward, growling loudly, teeth bared.

Whimpering, Boots and Jaws bolted, leaving Redburn alone.

“All I am trying to explain . . .” the setter whined.

Another dog darted forward, making clicking sounds with his teeth.

“Steamboat dogs!” McKinley suddenly barked. “Don't demean yourself by fighting with such a dog. Don't treat Redburn the way he wished to treat the wolf. He isn't worth it. Let him go!”

The advancing dogs, their mouths open, tongues lolling, halted in their tracks.

Redburn looked around sheepishly. He was surrounded. Skulking down, he dropped his tail between his legs. Whimpering, he began to slink off the hill. As he descended, the pack made way for him, growling and snapping at him as he passed.

At the bottom of the hill, Redburn turned briefly. For a moment McKinley thought he was about to bark something, but the setter seemed to have second thoughts. With a yelp, he scampered away.

Once Redburn was gone, the dogs turned their attention back to McKinley. “Take your place!” they cried at him. “Up on the hill, where you belong.”

McKinley took a step forward but paused to put his mouth around one of Jack's gloved hands and pull at him.

“I'm coming, McKinley,” he said. “I'm coming.”

McKinley and the pup made their way up the hill, to the same spot Redburn had taken. There McKinley paused. After making sure Jack sat, he turned to face the dogs who were now below him.

“Steamboat dogs,” McKinley said, “I promised to bring you the wolf's message. Listen to what Lupin wanted you to hear.

“She asked me if we dared to live without humans caring for us, if we dared to be completely free. She challenged me to imagine what it would mean to our lives if our pups were not taken away from us but remained by our sides for all our days. She asked if we had the courage to live and die by the use of our own muscles and brains. Could we live in a world larger, wilder than ours is now? By doing so she reminded me that we dogs are descendants of wolves, and that there is still some wolf within each of us.

“Steamboat dogs, Duchess has already gone over to the wolves. All of you are free to join Lupin's wolf pack in the Zirkel Wilderness. You will be welcomed.

“That is the message Lupin brought and which I promised to give you. Whether you go or not is your decision to make.”

There were barks of, “What do you think, McKinley? Give us your thoughts. What shall you do?”

“Steamboat dogs,” McKinley replied, “since you ask my opinion, I'll give it. I answer: Yes, we
are
decedents of wolves. Let us be proud of that. But we are still
dogs.
We care for our humans. They need us to protect them, to care for their pups. In turn, they take care of us, providing food and shelter.

“That does not mean we must be their slaves or do everything they ask of us. Not at all. If we are to remain their friends we must be their equals. We must be equals so that through living together each kind may be different.”

McKinley, turning to Jack, nudged him, encouraging him to stand up.

“Here is an example of what I'm telling you,” McKinley barked to the dogs. “Look on this pup. His name is Jack. He is my human pup. I raised him from the time he was helpless. I guarded him. Watched over him. Kept him safe. Now he is almost grown.

“Yesterday, in the early morning, he saved me from a man who first wished to cage me and then wanted to kill me. Without this boy I would not have been able to free the wolf. Nor would I have lived.

“Steamboat dogs! I call upon you to recognize this human pup for the friend he is! Let this boy be voted an honorary dog!”

As one, the mass of dogs lifted their heads and bayed their loud approval.

Then McKinley rose up on his rear legs, rested his forepaws on Jack's shoulders, and licked the pup's nose.

A grinning Jack, even as he hugged McKinley,
said, “What are they saying, McKinley? What are they doing?”

McKinley dropped down and began to trot off the hill.

Suddenly Aspen stood up. “Steamboat dogs,” she bayed, “there's one more thing to do.”

The pack, turning to face her, hushed themselves.

McKinley, with Jack at his side, halted.

“Redburn,” Aspen continued, “called this meeting so you would choose him to be head dog. He's gone. But what about McKinley? Do you wish him to remain our leader? I know him well. He won't request it, but he needs your reassurance. Steamboat dogs, let him hear your will. Is McKinley still to be our head dog?”

As one, the dogs leaped to their feet, howled, barked, and yapped yes yes yes! wagging their tails so hard, they whipped the snow into a cloud.

“Steamboat dogs,” McKinley barked over all the noise, his tail wagging, too, “thank you. You do me a great honor.”

Then he lifted his head high, shaped his mouth
in an almost perfect circle, and began to howl. Remembering Lupin's cry, he let forth a howl that was part moan, part cry of triumph, throaty and rough-edged at first. It rose to a single clear note that vaulted as high as the sky, and down over the dogs before him, then out along the whole valley.

The dogs—as well as Jack—grew silent and listened in awe . . . for all who heard that howl felt their hearts awaken.

M
cKinley and Aspen walked home side by side. Jack meandered along with them. “McKinley, boy,” the pup said, “that was so cool. I just wish I knew what it was all about. Thanks for letting me come. And that howl you did, man, it was something else.”

Aspen suddenly turned to McKinley. “Why did you care so much about what happens to Lupin?”

McKinley plodded along for a while in silence. “I'm not sure. Maybe because she's free.”

“Aren't we?”

McKinley shook his head. “Remember how she
talked about the wilderness? It sounded so wonderful. But then, look at the boy. He doesn't know what happened. Still, he's pretty wonderful, too. And then there's you, Aspen. What you just did. And this town—it's great to be here.” He wagged his tail.

Aspen wagged back.

Reaching home, McKinley stopped and gave her a nuzzle. “Good night. And . . . thank you.” The two dogs touched noses.

“You're always going to take care of everything, anyway, aren't you?”

“I like to.”

“You do it well, too. Good night, head dog.” Aspen, tail wagging, headed for her own house.

“Come on, buddy,” Jack called as he pushed open their door. Once inside, he stamped his feet free of snow while McKinley shook himself, spattering snow everywhere. Then both went into the large room. The man and woman were there.

“Hey!” Gil demanded angrily. “Where have you guys been?”

“Have you any idea what time it is?” Sarah asked.

As Jack began to talk, McKinley went to his water bowl, lapped up some water, then went on to Jack's room. He jumped on the sleeping place and lay down, his head on the soft lump. He could hear the murmur of voices down the hall.

After a while Jack came into the room. “McKinley! “he cried. “You got paw prints all over the bed!”

But the pup didn't seem to mind, really. Instead, he pulled off his body coverings and got in his sleeping place next to McKinley, drawing a cloth over both of them. He didn't bother to turn off the light.

The pup looked into McKinley's face. “McKinley,” he said, “guess what? They didn't believe me when I told them where we were. I tried to explain how all you dogs got together and barked. You know what they said? Said I was making it up. Dreaming.

“And another thing. Up on the hill. That howl you gave. You never did that before. I loved it. Can you do it again?”

McKinley gazed at the pup, and licked his nose again.

The boy sighed. “Good thing it's still Saturday, boy. We can sleep in.” He was silent. Then: “McKinley, guess what? I've figured out what I'm going to do when I grow up.”

McKinley, wondering what the boy was saying, studied him closely.

“I'm going learn how to talk to you,” the boy went on. “And how you can talk to me. Get it? A dog scientist. That would be so cool, wouldn't it? Bet I'd be famous if I did. You, too.” He reached out and gave McKinley a hug. “But do you know what else?” Jack added.

McKinley, ears cocked, stared at the boy.

“I just wish I knew what you were thinking right now.” The boy rolled over and gave McKinley another hug, and a kiss on his snout.

As Jack fell into a deep sleep, McKinley wondered what in the world the boy had been talking about so seriously. He gave Jack yet another lick across the nose. In his sleep, the boy smiled.

McKinley knew that, among humans, a smile meant the same as a wagging tail.

He closed his eyes. As he did, the image of Lupin filled his mind. He saw her slowly making her way through the dark night with only Duchess and stars as her companions. She was limping, yet moving steadily over the cold snow, journeying toward her home in the wilderness.

McKinley wondered if any other dogs from the Steamboat pack would follow her. He found himself hoping some would. For a moment he even felt his own blood stir, his legs churn slightly. Then, with a sigh that was equal parts regret, pride, and weariness, McKinley slept the sleep of a good dog.