Winston (Part 2)
Bianca trotted around in a circle, impatient, eyes on the men approaching her. Bianca knew the routine by now. This was the only home she'd ever known, and she knew the ways of her world by heart. They were deeply imbedded in her being. Bianca waited, impatient. They led the new dog out to her and watched keenly, not trusting either dog not to harm the other. The new dog was a pit fighter and the white bitch, Bianca, was fierce. But the dogs behaved well, and neither was harmed. Afterwards they led the big brindle pit bull back to his lonely area of grass. The white dog Bianca promptly fell asleep, while far away from her some male dogs howled mournfully. The chain maddens me, rubs my neck raw. I want out, I want to test my new strength and run. I tried chewing on the chain again, and it hurt my teeth and made my jaws sore. I stopped. I tried pulling, braced myself and pulled like a mad dog, but all that happened was that the thing nearly killed me. I have found that when I pull it, it tightens and hurts me, and I cannot breathe. I fell back and rested. I've got plenty of time to think, here, and I know I'll find a way out. A way to run. Right now I can relax, and doze in the hot midday sun. Feel the life drenching me, soaking deep into my bones � my soul. I eat and walk and trot in circles, and I grow strong. Maybe someday I will be so strong that when I pull on the chain it will break, and I will be free to run so far into this endless green that I will never see another human again. Just run and run and run forever, until I grow old and fall asleep the last time, alone and happy in the wide, empty world. My fantasies sustain me. I am content to dream of my freedom, when it is so close. The puppy was a wanderer. Biggest and boldest of the litter, and so meltingly, adorably sweet that no one could force him to stay in the den box with his littermates. The puppy, predominately white like his mother, with broad red patches across his back and shoulders reminiscent of his father, was forever questing through the dark and cluttered room where his mother slept. As he grew older, he gained the affection of his humans and free roam of the big house belonging to the humans. He also gained the nickname "Spot" � something that irritated his owner, the Rich Man. But Spot seemed to fit the clumsy, wide-eyed puppy. Spot loved exploring the big house, but once he discovered the fields outside, he never wanted to go back inside again. He chased butterflies and tried to make friends of the big female dogs. By that time Spot's mother Bianca was living outside again, but she had had quite enough of Spot's antics and chased him off again and again. Finally Spot lost interest in Bianca and wandered off through the wide-open fields in search of a playmate. There were many dogs in the fields behind the big house; all chained to stakes in the ground. They were spread wide across the fields, though, to prevent possible fights and rivalries. The Rich Man could afford to treat his prized dogs well. Spot wandered through the seemingly endless green fearlessly, happily, searching for a dog that would not chase him off. He was drawn in particular to a huge male dog, far down the field from Bianca, that smelled familiar. At first, when Spot approached, the big dog barked suspiciously and danced from side to side. Spot backed off and whined hopefully. After glaring at Spot for some time, the dog rumbled deep in its chest and relaxed, slumping to the ground. Spot stepped forward tentatively, and the dog did nothing. Spot edged forward a little bit more, and still the dog ignored him. Elated, Spot pranced forward and tugged on the big dog's ear. The dog yawned and allowed the puppy to bounce over him, pulling energetically on his ears and tail. Eventually Spot tired and lay down beside the big dog's nose to sleep. The big dog dozed, keeping a watchful eye on the puppy. It was impossible to hate Spot. I feel strangely flattered by the affection of this puppy. I recognized him by scent at first � he smelled like his mother, and like me. I could not have attacked a puppy, and certainly not my own. And so I let him climb on me and tug at my ears and tail. I've grown very fond of him, in fact. I rather envy his freedom, but I enjoy his company very much. I think he is the only dog friend I have ever had. He is growing older; he has longer legs now and they have cut his ears so that they are stiff and pointed like mine. His floppy puppy ears are gone, and they have got him a chain collar. Sometimes I worry that he might be a fighter, one day, but I don't think so � there has never been a dogfight here. I don't worry very much. At first when the Rich Man found that the puppy, Spot, was friends with the ex-fighter Ripper, he was worried that Ripper might hurt the puppy. But the brindle pitbull seemed to be very relaxed and peaceful now, and he never bothered the puppy, so the Rich Man let them be. He was very fond of Spot; he thought the puppy had promise. Soon it would be trained to fight, along with one brother and one sister � the only puppies from the litter that the Rich Man had kept. There was one thing that the Rich Man would have to remedy, though � the name Spot. It didn't fit a fighting dog. Perhaps Slasher. That sounded vicious enough. The Rich Man had used up most of the best names on dogs already. He didn't want a second Killer, or Mangle, or Bastard, or Cannibal. Names were very important to the Rich Man; he felt that a fighting dog wasn't finished unless it had the perfect name. Yes, Slasher was good. Slasher would be a good name for little Spot. As for the brother and sister, maybe Blanca and � Ripper. The father was out of the pit, after all � no one would remember Ripper by the time the second male puppy grew up. And besides, the Rich Man wasn't feeling very creative. He could think up good names when the puppies proved themselves in the pit. And he was confident that they would. My puppy-friend, the one who smells like me, is away more and more often. He seems to like the humans. I wonder why. I snarl and stay out of their reach, but the puppy trusts them and runs to them eagerly. Then they play with him and give him good things to eat. I wonder why the humans like him so much? And I wonder why he likes them. If I was a stupid dog, then I would run to them to beg for treats, but I'm wise to their ways by now. Humans are wickedly clever creatures. Perhaps they're only pretending to be kind to trick me. I won't be tricked. When the puppy runs off with the humans and I am left here alone, I have plenty of time to think. Mostly, I think about freedom. It's been on my mind more and more. All my tricks have failed to remove this damned chain from my neck, so finally I decided to watch what the humans do when they untie a dog. I'm not sure if their method would work for me or not, but it's worth a try. Through observing them, I can see what they do with the chain. They slip it over a dog's head and attach another chain to his collar to lead him. So I started to kick at the chain with my hindpaws. All that happened was that I wore my neck raw. I tried to get a grip on it with my forepaws, but they are too big and clumsy. I wish I had the forepaws of humans, so small and quick. Then, one night, a revelation! I lay flat on the ground and wiggled up to the stake. After a painful few minutes, I managed to get the chain stuck on the top of the stake. Then I pulled backwards carefully. It didn't work the first few times; the chain slipped off the stake or tightened on my neck. But finally, it worked. It slid up over my neck and ears and then right off my head. I was unsure at first, and I walked slowly to the edge of my circle of grass, but the chain did not tighten around my neck. It lay, dead and cold, on the ground by the stake. I was amazed. I felt, once more, like a god. And then I ran, furious and fast, away from the big house and towards the endless green that stretches to the very horizon. No one came after me. I was hidden by the heavy blanket of night. I faced another challenge then. A tall structure, made of metal and much like the bars of my old cage, rose before me, between me and the beautiful, beautiful empty world. I knew enough by now not to try chewing the metal links. After a bit of thought, I tried out one of my new skills � jumping! I leapt up and bounced off. I leapt again and managed to hook my forepaws into the metal links, but I could not get up any higher, and the metal hurt me, cutting into my paws. I fell back down. The solution came to me eventually, and I started to dig, another newly-discovered talent. It took awhile, but I dug like a mad dog and finally managed to scrape through underneath the fence, the bits of metal scraping deep into my back. I did not care; pain does not affect me and the lure of freedom was too great. I did not stop to think then; I simply ran. I ran until I was exhausted, and then I crawled into some bushes and slept until the gentle sun rose over me. I can hardly believe it now; that my dream is reality, and I am free. I feel like I am born a third time, and I joyously begin my new life. Yes. This is good. The grass was dark and wet, reflecting the heavy storm-grey of the sky, pregnant with rain. The air was cool and wet and smelled of rain. The young woman stood motionless, the strain and clash of the city fading swiftly from her mind. It was peaceful here. Peaceful and empty and pretty, in a lonely, lifeless way. Thunder rumbled distantly and a cold wind whipped her slate-grey coat around her ankles, reminding her of the swift-approaching winter. She folded her arms, pulling her coat close around her. Vague thoughts drifted through her mind, sliding away into nothingness. A snarled, tangled bundle of emotions clawed at her brain, none making an impression. Her thoughts were far away, on some distant plane, and her gaze never wavered from the sad little piece of granite buried in the grass at her feet. Polished and engraved nicely, a small upturned plinth. Not even a tombstone, no. Just a � stone. No inscription. Only a name. Dates. There were flowers laid on the soft grass before the sad little stone, sinking into the grass under the weight of the air. The young woman looked at the stone for a long time, standing still and cold, the wind whipping through her pale hair. If she cried she did not cry very much, and the wind stole away her tears. But she did not cry very much. After a time she turned and walked out of the cemetery, through its gentle winding lanes, got into her car, and left. On the grass before the sad little stone, the wind tore the petals from the flowers. Lilies, and some orchids, pink with purple hearts. Pretty, in the same lonely and desolate way as the cemetery, littered here and there with the little marble angels, gifts that the recipients would never see. Tina bent forward over her cappuccino eagerly, stirring it quickly. "So? How was it? What happened? Is he nice? Are you going out again? What'd you do?" Dana laughed, brushing back a strand of her hair. "He's � nice. Very nice." Tina snorted. "Yeah, very descriptive." "Well � he brought flowers." "Oo, classy. Flowers are always good." "We went to a movie." "Chick flick? Or guy movie?" Dana laughed again. "Chick flick. How's the cappuccino? I've never tried it." "Hot. Pretty good, actually. So what else happened?" "We went in one of those horse buggy things in the park. It was sweet. He's a very sweet guy. He asked if I wanted to go out with him again next Saturday." Dana reached for Tina's cappuccino and drank some. "Not bad." "He sounds great. Dream man. So what's he look like?" "Um� he's alright. Kinda cute." Dana handed the cappuccino back and yawned. "Sorry. Tired. So what's up with your love life? Did you break up with Dylan yet?" "Naaaah. I figure, I�m not breaking up with him till I find a new guy. I mean, I don't wanna be single if I don't have to be, right? And Dylan's pretty good-looking, you gotta admit." Tina grinned slyly. "Not as good as Jude." "Ha!" Tina made a face. "I thought you said kinda good looking." "Better than average, let's say." "And he's a doctor!" "A psychoanalyst? I think that's the right name�." "Fine. Heh. So you wanna come over to my apartment for a movie night tonight? My studio-mate's out of town." "Sure. I'm kind of tired, though. You know. I've been getting up real early all this week. The ASPCA have been bringing in a lot of seizures." "Seizures?" Tina asked blankly. "You know what I mean. Seized animals. Not, you know, literal seizures." Dana had a brief mental image of dozens of ASPCA officers rolling on the floor, twitching. "Oo, real exciting, just like that show on Animal Planet, eh?" "Er. Not really. Less exciting chases and more 'my dog barks too much, I'm surrendering him'." "Ah. I see." Tina held up her coffee cup and winked. "My place, 8:00, bring popcorn, OK?" "Right." Dana stood, looking for a trash can in the little caf� in which to dump her paper mocha cup. "I'll stop at Blockbuster." Tina stood as well and walked to the counter to surrender her empty coffee mug. She turned and paused, as Dana headed for the door. "Hey, you need a ride?" "My car's just down the street. See you later." "Bye." Dana left the caf� and walked down the block to where her car was parked. It was a little car, a white Geo. She got in and drove home, to the little house she bought all the way out in the suburbs. It was good to go home. The long drive wasn't so bad now that she could think about her life again. And her life was definitely looking up. She had friends again, good friends like Tina, and a boyfriend for the first time since her junior year of college. College. It seemed like a million years ago, although in reality it was only two years since she had graduated. Tina had gone back to college after a three-year hiatus. She was an art major now, working in a theme restaurant. Dana was glad that her days of working strange little jobs like Tina's to support her college career were done with. She got enough money from her job at the shelter to live on, and she used some of her inheritance money from the sale of her grandfather's house to help pay the mortgage on the cheap little house. Perhaps someday she would move on, and get a higher-paying job with her college degree, but for now she was content to simply float through life. I wandered happily for days in these loving green fields, but I've gotten very hungry, and finally I was forced to once more seek out humans. There are actually plenty of humans here, to my surprise, scattered far apart. They claim these huge fields, full of different kinds of plants, as their territories. I snuck through one field, where incredibly tall plants were growing, all the way up to one of the habitations of these humans. I smelled dogs there, and I stayed back in the field, wary, until it grew dark. Then I edged carefully up to the back of the big house, where I could smell strange, new animals. Animals that my instincts tell me I can eat. I was baffled for a while by a small metal-wire door that protected the food-animals, but it was thin and weak and I tore the corner off with my teeth, as quietly as possible. I did not want to attract the attention of the dogs here, or the humans. I crawled in under the corner that I had pulled loose, and managed to catch one of the animals in my teeth. I tore at it, and finally it went limp in my jaws. I was so hungry that I devoured it then and there. I grabbed another food-animal, and another, in my mouth, and shook them until they were dead, and then I backed awkwardly out of the food-animal house and ran far out into the field, thankfully avoiding the attention of the strange dogs. I was very lucky. Soon after I was within the field, under the cover of the immense plants, I heard a crack and I froze. I'm very familiar with the sound of a gun. I saw many mad dogs slain by the gun when I served my Master, Rubio. I heard savage barking then, far behind, and I started to run once more. I do not want strange dogs after me, and me with precious food in my mouth. I must find a better way of eating. I am the best fighter, the ruler of the pit, but if I am set upon by many dogs at once, then I'm not so sure I'll be able to beat them. Dana, lying on her side and staring out the window. Rain ran down the glass window panes, blurring the grey morning world outside into a surreal dreamscape. Her tawny blond hair was tangled, spread across the pillow. Her eyes, pale grey-blue-yellow, reflected the cold emptiness outside. She did not blink. "Tell me." The voice behind her. "You sure you want to know?" Her voice was weary, a sad attempt at cheerfulness. "Yes." She was silent for a long time. "Why?" "It'll be good for you. I've always wondered why." "Why what?" The appropriate sarcastic tone was absent from the words, making them curiously flat. "Why you are � how you are." "It's not that important, really. It's not. It's just a stupid little story. You'll think it's stupid." There was a soft sigh. "I won't. You don't trust me?" "It's a stupid story." Dana lay silent, staring out the window at the rivulets of rain. A significant pause. "Whose grave is that, anyways?" She closed her eyes as if in sleep. "Just a friend. Used to be a friend, anyways. Ha." "Dana?" Dana lay, unmoving, curled into a fetal position. "Dana?" Dana feigned sleep like an expert. Her eyes did not move beneath their lids, and she was perfectly relaxed. The voice sighed again, and gave up. Outside and far below people yelled and cars honked and taxis screeched through the street, sending up gaudy fans of water. The rain pattered softly on the awnings above the glass storefronts. Little shops, all along the street. The apartment where Dana slept was above a bookstore. It was an old street, a good old street in this ever-modernizing city. But the rain that ran down the window made it unrecognizable. An alien landscape shrouded in grey.
Copyright © 2001 Wolfa |