Page 12 of The Good Dog


  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.

  31

  McKinley 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 stea
dily 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.

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  Atheneum Books for Young Readers

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, New York 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  Copyright © 2001 by Avi

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Book design by Michael Nelson

  The text of this book is set in Perpetua.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Avi, 1937-

  The good dog / by Avi.

  p. cm.

  Summary: McKinley, a malamute, is torn between the domestic world of his human family and the wild world of Lupin, a wolf that is trying to recruit dogs to replenish the dwindling wolf pack.

  ISBN 0-689-83824-7

  ISBN 978-1-4814-4533-7 (eBook)

  1. Dogs—Juvenile fiction. [1. Dogs—Fiction. 2. Wolves—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ10.3.A965 Go 2001

  [Fic]—dc21 00-053600

 


 

  Avi, The Good Dog

 


 

 
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