“It’s not that there are no humans here at night,” he grumbled. “There may be fewer, but there are still enough to catch every one of us.”
“Shep-dog should forget plan,” Fuzz meow-barked. “Callie-dog safe. Those humans smell good, take care of dogs.”
Shep glared at the furball. “I made a promise to Callie. I’m not going to give up on her.”
Fuzz licked a paw and ran it over his ears. “Fine,” he hissed. “But Shep-dog do rescue for Callie or for self?”
Shep kept his snout shut. He agreed with the cat that the humans seemed to be helping the pets in the cages. At least these dogs had eaten a decent meal this sun, which was more than any in his pack could woof. But these dogs were still in cages and not with their families. Shep felt in his gut that they would all rather be free like he was.
Oscar peered around the metal-stick leg of the winged Car. “What’s going on over there?” he woofed.
On the other side of the maze of cages was a huge winged Car — better to call it a winged den, it was so big. There was a hole in the den’s body near its tail and a ramp led from the pavement into the hole. At the base of the ramp was a pile of crates, each filled with a barking dog. The ramp must have had some special rug on it: A human placed a cage containing a small, brown dog onto the ramp and the crate was carried up the ramp and into the winged den.
“Why would they put the dogs into the big Car?” Oscar whimpered.
“I don’t know,” moaned Shep, though he worried it couldn’t be for anything good.
“Winged Cars fly,” Fuzz meowed. “Take dogs far away.”
Shep stared at the cat. How does he know that? “You mean, like a bird?”
“Fuzz owner take Fuzz on fly-Car to get Honey-friend as puppy,” he hissed. “Fuzz not happy in fly-Car.” He gagged slightly as if choking back a hairball.
Oscar began to tremble. “Why would they send the dogs away?” he whined. “What about their families?”
“There must be too many of them to care for here,” Shep woofed. He straightened his stance, ears up and tail lifted. He wasn’t just doing this for himself. He had to keep the humans from taking Callie away from her home.
“It’s too risky to bring Daisy and the others in here,” Shep barked. “But we need to get Callie out before they fly her away in that fat bird-Car.” He glanced back at the cage maze. “Here’s the plan — Oscar, you and Fuzz head for the building and get Callie out. I’m going to create a distraction down here. All the humans should come running to me, and that will give you at least a few heartbeats to escape with Callie.”
“Has Shep-dog completely lost brain?” Fuzz roared. “Humans take Shep-dog for sure with that fuzz-head plan.”
“But you’ll get Callie out, which is all I care about.”
The humans loaded the last cage into the bird-Car. A man shouted and a little Car pulling a flat, wheeled trailer drove back into the maze — to get more.
Shep growled softly. “We have to do this now.”
“I’ll create the distraction,” Oscar barked. “You go and get Callie out.”
“No, pup,” Shep grunted. “You won’t be able to cause half the ruckus I can.”
“I don’t need to do anything except annoy the biggest dog I can find,” Oscar snapped. “And I’m really good at annoying big dogs. As you should know.” He gave Shep a fierce look. “Please, let me do this. I need to do this, to prove I can be a good packmate.”
“Oscar,” Shep woofed, “how many times have I told you — you don’t need to prove anything. And I will figure a way to get myself out of here.”
“The pack can’t lose you,” Oscar said. “They don’t need me. They don’t even want me. But they’ll be lost for sure without you.” He pricked his ears and lifted his chest. “Plus, I’m small. If I create a big enough mess, I can slip away without the humans seeing me.”
“Small-snout correct,” Fuzz hissed. “Shep-dog come with Fuzz. Let pup do bark-and-bite distraction.”
Oscar’s woofs made sense, but Shep felt like a coward, letting the pup run full-snout into danger alone. Then again, who knew what challenges he would face in the building trying to free Callie? Shep could cause a distraction and get caught, and the pup might not be able to reach Callie’s cage to open it. No, Oscar was right. He had a good plan.
“Okay,” Shep woofed. “But you meet me back in the Park, pup. No unnecessary heroics.”
Oscar sprang up and licked Shep’s nose. “Oh, thank you!” he howled.
“All right,” Shep yipped. “Quiet down before we both get snatched.”
Oscar shut his jaws, though his jowls remained curled in a huge grin. He wagged his tail, then bounded into the dark to search out a cage full of angry big dogs.
“Fuzz lead,” the cat meowed.
“No,” Shep woofed. “Go back to the fence and tell the others the plan. Have them head into the Park and mark a trail with scent, then wait for us there. If the humans follow us, I don’t want them stumbling upon the whole pack at the fence. Best to keep the others safe in case Oscar and I need rescuing.”
Fuzz considered Shep’s woofs for a heartbeat, then nodded his pink nose and disappeared into the black.
Time for a daring rescue.
The moon was high in the sky. Shep crept through the shadows along the edge of the maze. He slipped through the hole they’d found in the outer wall of cages, making his way back toward the tube building. The artificial light from the humans’ lamps soon drowned out the silver light of the moon. Shep had to step out into the brightness, leaving the protection of the shadows.
He sniffed the air, though all he could scent was dog and the occasional cat or rodent. He had to trust that there were no humans nearby. He kept low to the ground and scuttled forward across an open path between the cages.
The closer he got to the building, the fewer obstacles he had to hide behind. Then the maze of cages ended. All that separated Shep from the building was an open stretch of pavement. A few Cars slept near the building. In the open space were three large tents under which were crowded plastic tables and chairs. A few humans loitered by one of the tables, staring at a small light-window and shuffling piles of paper.
Shep dashed from his cover and dove under one of the Cars. His body was pressed between the metal belly of the Car and the pavement, but he managed to scooch his way to the front of the Car.
He was now only a stretch away from the outer wall of the building. The tube building itself was open. White lights lined its spine from front to back. There were rows of cages inside, and between each row was a shiny, metal table with boxes and bins stored beneath it. A light hung from a metal arm over each table.
The pets in the cages here were hooked up to beeping human machines or bags and tubes or both. Some were wrapped in strips of cloth, but most lay limp in their cages on ragged towels.
Shep stole from beneath the Car to the edge of the row closest to the outer wall.
“Callie?” he snuffled.
The dog nearest him — a medium-sized black dog, probably a pit bull like Paulie — lifted his snout. “What are you doing out of your cage?” he growled.
“Have you seen a little dog, brown with a black muzzle?” Shep woofed.
The black dog panted. “You must’ve grown fur on your brain,” he yipped. “What kind of dog haven’t I seen?”
“Thanks,” Shep grumbled. “You’ve been extremely helpful.”
Shep padded along the row until there was a break in the cages. A path led from the outer row all the way across the building. In the center of the building, Shep saw a plastic table with a few plastic chairs — and the legs of a human stretched out in front of one of the chairs.
Where’s my big distraction, Oscar? Shep grumbled to himself.
Shep crept along the central path, woofing Callie’s name up and down each aisle. When he reached the center of the building, he saw that the legs belonged to a young woman who was fast asleep in the chair. Her head reste
d along the thin rim of the plastic back and her arms hung limp, draped over the armrest.
It was the closest Shep had been to a human since the storm. A part of him was desperate to nuzzle under her sleeping arm, to feel her hand stroke his fur. He could hardly remember what it felt like to have someone scratch behind his ears. Suddenly, that one bit of skin that he could never scratch properly flared up.
“Shep?”
He turned his snout. And there she was.
Callie’s muzzle lit up like a lamp. “Shep!” she yipped. “It’s really you!”
Shep trotted to her cage. Callie leapt up on her hind legs. She licked the metal bars and waved her tail ecstatically.
“How did you find me?” she woofed, catching his jowl with her lick. “They took me so far from the boat, I figured I was lost forever.”
“If they’d taken you all the way to the Silver Moon, I’d have found you,” Shep yipped, licking her through the bars.
Callie looked past his ears, then pulled a tube out of her leg with a wince. “We have to hurry,” she snuffled. “They’re moving the whole kennel, I think. I’ve seen them looking over lists and loading dogs into that big winged Car.”
“Just let me slap open this cage,” Shep woofed and began digging with his claws at the latch.
“Shep,” Callie woofed in a solemn tone, “they already took Blaze.”
The name hit him like a rolled newspaper. Blaze is gone…. He closed his eyes. She won’t ever see her man again, or her beasts. I won’t ever get to see her again. He felt awful that their last woofs to each other had been hurtful; they’d never even gotten to wag tails good-bye. The sadness welled up inside him like a black pool. No, he commanded. I must stay strong. I have to save Callie.
“She was flown out last sun.” Callie nuzzled his paw. “I’m so sorry.”
Shep licked his jowls. “There’s nothing we can do about that,” he yipped. “The important thing is to rescue you.”
The dog in the cage next to Callie threw herself against the metal-mesh wall, sending the whole row rattling. Shep glanced at the human. She groaned in her sleep, then snored on.
“Are you trying to get me caught?” he snapped at the dog.
The dog — a small white thing, poodle or shih tzu or something like that — began whimpering pathetically. “I heard you say ‘rescue,’ and I need you to rescue me, too, please?” She batted her big black eyes. “I need to get home to my mistress and they said my name when they read the last list and I can’t go away from my mistress, PLEASE? I’m so small you’d never even notice me, pleasepleasepleasePLEASE!”
Shep dragged the latch on Callie’s cage and the door swung open.
“Be quiet!” he growled. “If you shut your snout, I’ll open your cage.”
The little dog began furiously wagging her tail. “Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou, you big wonderful fabulous furry ball of snuggleliciousness!”
“Pumpkin, you’re being a little dramatic,” Callie grumbled. She pawed the air in front of her cage as if a staircase might magically appear from her cage to the ground.
“No, I’m being grateful,” the small white dog — Pumpkin — woofed.
“Be grateful a little more quietly,” Shep snuffled. “We don’t want to wake up that human.”
Shep dug open Pumpkin’s cage, and the little girldog flounced out onto the ground. Callie, however, was still pawing at the air.
“Need help?” Shep woofed, smirking.
“Don’t make fun,” Callie yipped. “I’m recovering from a severe injury.”
Shep gripped her by the scruff and dropped her on the ground.
“Hey,” woofed a large brown dog a few cages away. “What about me?”
“And me!” yapped a little black-and-white mutt. “Rescue me!”
Every dog started to bark like a crazy thing. The human stirred in her chair.
“Shut your snouts!” Shep growled as quietly as he could.
Just then, Shep heard a loud crash and a chorus of barks and snarls.
“That’ll be Oscar,” Shep woofed.
“Oscar?” asked Callie. “What’s he got to do with anything?”
The woman woke; her eyes locked on Shep.
“Don’t ask,” Shep barked. “Just run.”
The human stood and placed her hands in front of her. She spoke in a calm voice, then turned her head and yelled something.
“Run, Callie!” Shep barked. He sprang off his hind legs and hit the woman in the chest, knocking her back into the table. He stuck his head under the edge of the plastic top and tipped the whole table onto its side.
The woman screamed. Shep heard other human voices shouting.
“What are you doing?” Callie cried. “She helped me — and you hurt her!”
“Never mind! We have to leave now!” Shep snapped. He nudged Callie in the side, and they took off down the aisle toward the wall.
“More people are coming!” Pumpkin yapped as she raced by Shep.
Shep turned at the wall and bolted for the open end of the building, then noticed Callie was no longer beside him. He glanced back and saw the little girldog huffing around the corner at a trot.
“You have to go faster!” Shep barked.
“This is as fast — pant pant — as I go,” Callie groaned, catching up to him.
They would never outrun whatever humans were after them, loping along at Callie’s pace. He needed more of a distraction.
“You keep heading down that aisle at the edge of the cage maze,” Shep barked.
“And you?” Callie yipped.
“I’m going to cause some trouble.”
A person with a long pole and rope stepped from between the row of cages a few stretches from where Shep and Callie stood.
“Don’t hurt him!” Callie yelped.
“Get going!” Shep snapped at her.
He turned to face the person. The man was talking slowly in a low voice and creeping toward Shep. The aisle was empty — there was nothing for Shep to do but attack. He lunged back, preparing to ram the man, and noticed a tower of lights. Its two square lamps buzzed three stretches above Shep atop a thin stick. Now there’s a distraction.
Shep bolted out of the building and slammed his paws against the lights. The tower wobbled on its base, which was like a metal bird’s foot, then crashed to the pavement. The bulbs burst, sending up a shower of glass shards and throwing the area into darkness.
The man yelled, but Shep didn’t stop. He bolted into the dark and followed Callie’s scent out of the maze of cages. He paused to catch his breath under one of the small, sleeping winged Cars.
Callie stumbled to his side. “Please — pant — tell me you didn’t attack the man,” she woofed.
“I attacked a light,” Shep grunted.
“Why — pant — did you hit the woman?” she whimpered. “She was a nice person.”
“She was going to put us all in cages and send us Great Wolf knows how far from our homes.”
Shep’s bark sounded more confident than he felt. Actually, he was shivering under his fur. He didn’t need Callie to tell him he’d done something bad; every hair in his body felt tingly, like his coat was trying to get as far from him as possible. He had hit so many dogs and other animals in their chests to defend himself — why did hitting the woman feel so different?
Pumpkin appeared under the winged Car. “I think we’re safe,” she woofed. “The humans ran away from the building, down a different aisle.”
“What was Oscar doing?” asked Callie.
“He was creating a distraction so we could get away,” Shep barked. “So let’s get our tails out of here.”
Shep led Callie and Pumpkin to the tree, over the fence, and along the scent trail left by the others through the tunnel into the Park. The dogs were silent as they ran; the only noises were the twitch of leaves on the tree branches and the splash of water echoing around the inside of the tube. When they exited the tunnel, they found the rest of the pack waiting i
n the dim moonlight, huddled near the tunnel’s opening.
“Shep?” woofed Ginny, her bark weak and trembling.
“It’s me,” he answered, “and I have Callie.”
Callie stood tall and waved her curly tail. Boji padded out of the shadows, her tail wagging, and gave Callie a good licking.
“You smell better,” Boji woofed.
“I am better,” Callie said, turning her head slightly so Boji could lick her ear. “Smell how clean it is? The humans fixed my stomach from that nasty plant, and they even stopped my ears from itching.” Callie cut her woofs short, glanced at Shep, and sat. “The humans were helping the hurt dogs.”
Fuzz sat beside Shep’s flank and twitched his ears. “Shep-dog try to help,” he hissed. “Callie-dog like it in cage so much she can go back.”
“Fuzz,” Shep groaned, though it was nice to hear at least some dog — cat — supporting him. Callie sounded like she would have rather stayed in the kennel.
Callie’s ears flapped around her jowls. “I don’t mean it that way,” she woofed. “They were flying dogs far away. I saw them load Blaze and some of the others from our pack into one of those big winged Cars, and it growled and screeched and then blasted off into the air. I don’t want to leave the city.” She licked her nose. “I just think we need to remember that the humans aren’t our enemies.”
She gave Shep another look — like he didn’t know humans weren’t enemies, like he didn’t feel terrible about having hurt that woman.
Daisy stood and stretched. “Of course — snort — they’re not. Who said they were?” She shook her fur and kicked back with her hind legs. “Now, what about the others?” she barked. “What about Hulk and Panzer?” She wagged her knot-tail as if those big dogs from the defense team were her real packmates.
“We didn’t have time to rescue any others,” Callie yipped. “There were too many humans.”
“Not true!” yipped Pumpkin. “One other! Don’t forget me!” The tiny ball of fluff raced into the circle of dogs, then rolled and slapped the dirt with her front paws and barked, then zipped into the shadows and back out again into the circle of dogs. “Hi! I’m Pumpkin!” She waved her tail, which was bony with a tuft of long hairs on its end. “I’m a champion purebred Havanese show dog!” She sprang into the air, then panted happily as she pranced in a circle.