Dogsbody (10 page)

“That was clever,” Tibbles said. “Can you get it back on again?”

“I expect so,” said Sirius. He advanced on the gate, waving his tail joyfully. “Can you show me how to get this open?”

“We are bold, aren’t we?” said Tibbles. “I’ve told you—I can do the bolt at the bottom, but I can’t reach the other fastenings.”

“I can reach the others if you show me how they work,” said Sirius.

“Very well.” Rather humped and grudging, Tibbles descended from the wall and sat elegantly down at the base of the gate. Sirius watched carefully as she extended a narrow white paw to the knob of the bolt, delicately pushed the knob upward and then patted it gently until it slid greasily back in the oily slot. “There. Can you do that?” she said, sure that he could not.

“I don’t know. I’ll try.” Sirius raised himself on his hind legs and leaned against the gate, full stretch. Like that, he was now rather taller than Kathleen. The top bolt was within easy reach of his
clumsy right paw. He raised the paw and batted at the bolt with it. Luckily, it was slightly stiffer. The knob went up to the right position and stuck there, and Sirius had to come down for a rest at that stage. Tibbles looked superior. But Sirius heaved himself up on his back legs again and gave the knob a sideways swipe, hasty and strong. As he sank down, the bolt went rattling back.

“That was quite clever,” Tibbles said patronizingly.

“That’s what I thought,” said Sirius. “How does the latch undo?”

“You push it up—that little sharp bit that sticks out,” Tibbles said.

Sirius tried. The gate jumped about in its moorings, but nothing else happened.

“Stupid,” said Tibbles, “Here, let me stand on your back and I’ll show you.”

“All right.” Sirius stood with his side against the gate, and Tibbles leaped easily up to the middle of his back. Both of them hated it. Sirius’s hackles went up, and he only just prevented himself snapping at Tibbles. And Tibbles felt so insecure that she dug all her claws into him, hard. Sirius rumbled out a growl, which made Tibbles’s hair stand up too.

“Listen,” she snapped. “I’m doing you a kindness.”

“I know!” Sirius snarled, craning around to see what she was up to. “Be quick.”

Tibbles put out a shaky paw and lifted the latch. Sirius had barely time to understand he had been hitting the wrong part, before Tibbles jumped clear. They stood glaring at one another, while, behind Sirius, the gate swung creaking open into the lane.

“Thank you,” said Sirius.

“You’re welcome.” Tibbles’s fur was still up. She raised one paw and gave it a quick, irritated licking. “That’s the last time I stand on a dog.”

“That’s the last time I let you.” Sirius bent his tall narrow body into a half-circle and looked out into the lane. It was empty. He slid through the gap, and then threw himself joyfully backwards at the gate. It shut, with a slam and a click. He was free. He put his nose down and was about to scour away down the lane.

“I say!” Tibbles was on the wall, crouching to look down at him.

“What?” he said impatiently.

“When you come back,” Tibbles said, “you’ll find that side’s easier to open. You have to tread on the flat bit, then go away backwards so that the gate can open. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes. I think so.” Sirius did not like to tell her that he had no intention of coming back. He galloped off down the lane, flinging a glad good-by over his shoulder to Tibbles, and began the most marvelous day of his life.

His dog nature needed a free rein first. It cried out to examine every whiff and stink he passed, to raise its leg at every lamppost and corner, and to run up the pavement as it had seldom run before. When the joy of that subsided a little, Sirius remembered he had an errand. He turned and crossed the road.

Kathleen had tried to teach him about cars. Sirius did look to see that there was a gap to cross in. But only experience teaches you how fast a car can move. Hooters and brakes screamed. Sirius tore out from beneath the skidding wheels of one motorist, only to find
another rushing at him from the other side. The second motorist only missed him because a sudden blaze of sunlight startled him into jerking his wheel to the right. Sirius, shaken to his green core, bolted into an alleyway opposite and lay down panting in its shadow.

“That was stupid of you,” Sol said, gilding the wall in front of him. “I’ll leave you to be squashed if you do that again.”

“Sorry,” panted Sirius.

“I should hope so!” said Sol. “Now listen. I’ve been checking up on the things that fell here last spring, and there are six that could be the Zoi. Four of them went down in Great Britain, and the other two in France. It does look more and more as if someone knew where to put you. It worries me. Start looking, won’t you?”

“I am looking,” said Sirius. He arose with great dignity and trotted purposefully off.

He honestly intended to search. But he had not realized until that day how big and how full of interest was the town where he lived. He kept having adventures. He met children in parks, cats on fences and women in shops. And outside the Town Hall he met two policemen.

The policemen sprang suddenly out of a car parked in front of the Town Hall and advanced purposefully on Sirius, one from either side.

“Here, doggie. Come here. Nice fellow,” said one.

Sirius looked up and saw at once they were trying to catch him. It must be because he had no collar. Behind them, traffic was thundering along the road. Sirius dared not dash across it after what Sol
had said. He wondered whether to dash the other way, up the steps of the Town Hall, but a party of people were coming down them—people in dark clothes, with the smell of importance clinging to them. Unless he was very clever, he was going to be caught.

“Nice fellow,” said the policeman behind him. “Here!”

Sirius turned to him, his tail waving, his ears down, and his mouth open jovially. When he had put himself in a position from which he could see both policemen, he stopped and bent his elbows to the pavement, wagged his tail furiously and gave an encouraging bark.

“Thinks we’re playing,” said the first policeman.

Both policemen grabbed. Sirius dodged. They grabbed again, and he bounced away between them, barking delightedly. They moved far more slowly than Robin or Basil. Another bounce or so, and he would be able to make off down the nearest side street.

“What is it, Constable? A stray?” called the Lord Mayor from the steps. He was a dog-lover. “Can we help?”

“Well, if you could catch hold of him, sir—” said the first policeman. Both of them were sweating by now.

Most willingly, the Lord Mayor came down the steps. With him came the Town Clerk, the Borough Surveyor, three Councilors, and the Lord Mayor’s chauffeur. Sirius suddenly found himself having to dodge a whole crowd of people. He dodged and he bounced and he barked, and he led them in a mad dance down the pavement. They got in one another’s way, Sirius was able to dash off down a side road, barking excitedly, looking as if he thought this was the greatest game of his life. In a way it was. He was laughing widely as
he collapsed to rest behind a row of dustbins. He had never had such fun.

The dustbins smelled most fetchingly. All this running had made Sirius ravenous. He got up and tracked the fetching smell to the third dustbin along. It was a measure of how much he had learned that interesting morning, that he had no difficulty at all in prizing the lid off it. Inside, wrapped in newspaper, were the remains of a fried chicken. Sirius took it out and nosed aside the paper. The chicken was already in his mouth, when an old lady, attracted by the clang of the lid on the roadway, came hobbling down the steps of her house.

“Leaver,” she said sternly.

Sirius looked up at her, hardly able to credit it.

“Drop it!” she commanded. “You heard me.” When Sirius did nothing but stare, the old lady seized the chicken and wrenched it from his mouth. Sirius growled and tried to hang on. “No you don’t!” said the intrepid old lady. She was so fierce that Sirius stopped growling and watched hopelessly while the old lady put the chicken back in the dustbin and rammed the lid on. He could not help whining a little at that. “Oh no,” said the old lady. “Not chicken bones, and not out of dustbins. I’m not going to stand by and see a nice dog like you ruin his insides. Don’t you know chicken bones splinter? You’d die in agony, dog. Come with me and I’ll find you something else.”

She turned and began to hobble back up her steps. Sirius climbed up behind her, rather interested. Indoors, she limped to a tiny kitchen and opened a very small refrigerator.

“Let’s see,” she said. “Not a pork chop, I think. But here’s a bit of stewing beef you can have. Here.” She handed over a succulent lump. It vanished at once. “I can’t think why you dogs never wait to taste anything,” the old lady said. “Would you like some cake? It’s bad for teeth, but it’s better than chicken.” Sirius pranced beside her eagerly to a small cupboard. He was given nearly half a big currant cake. “Better now?” asked the old lady.

Sirius showed her he was by wagging his tail and nosing her twisted old hand. The twisted old hand turned and stroked his ears like an expert. Even Kathleen did not stroke ears so well. “You’re a beauty,” said the old lady. “I lost my dog a year ago. I’d love to keep you, but I can see you’re well cared for. Slipped your collar, naughty dog. I bet you belong to some little girl who’d break her heart if she lost you. Yes. Surprised you, didn’t I?” she said, as Sirius stared at her. “I know dogs. My Lass used to understand English too. Now, I’m going to let you out and you’re to go
home
. Understand?”

Sirius understood perfectly. He felt extremely guilty as he set off trotting in quite the opposite direction. But he had to be free to find that Zoi.

He came to an area of little houses in a tight crisscross of small streets near the river. The river was dark and slimy. Sirius did not care for it. He went swiftly away from it, up the nearest street, and heard paws excitedly bang on a wooden gate he was passing. Some dog whined:

“Hey! I say! Hallo, hallo, hallo!”

Sirius stopped. It was a gate to a yard a little smaller than his
own, and nothing like such a high one. There was wire netting nailed across the bottom of the gate, and more wire netting above it and above the fence beyond, making this yard even more of a prison than his own. Feeling very sympathetic, Sirius lay down and looked through the lower netting. The other dog lay down at the same moment. They stared at one another, nose to nose. Sirius’s tail arched in astonishment. It was almost like looking in a mirror. This was a bitch, and she had soft brown eyes, but she had the same creamy, feathery coat, and the same red ears. She was very handsome.

“Who are you?” said Sirius. “Why do you look like me?”

“Who are you? I’m Patchie. Hallo, hallo, hallo,” said the other dog.

“Hallo,” he said. “They call me Leo.”

“Hallo, Leo. Hallo, hallo!” said she.

“Don’t you say anything else but Hallo?”

“What else is there to say? Hallo, hallo.”

“There are all sorts of other things to say. Do you find it very boring, shut up in that yard?”

“Why should I?” she said, in some surprise. “Hallo.”

“Oh well,” said Sirius. “You don’t happen to know what a Zoi is, do you?”

“No,” she said. “A bone? Hallo. Who’s your master?”

“I haven’t got a master. A girl called Kathleen takes care of me.”

“Poor you!” said Patchie. “My master’s called Ken. He’s
lovely
!”

It suddenly dawned on Sirius that this was the most stupid creature he had ever encountered. He hoisted himself to his feet, bitterly disappointed. “I must go.”

“Come back tomorrow. Good-by, good-by, good-by!” said Patchie.

No fear! thought Sirius, and trotted off.

Two gates farther on, there was another creamy dog with red ears. He leaped and whined and hurled himself at his netting. “Hallo, hallo! I saw you go down and I hoped you’d come back. Hallo, hallo. I’m Bruce. Hallo.”

“Hallo,” Sirius said politely, and passed on.

Farther up the street, there were two more cream and red dogs, Rover and Redears, and they, too, were uncannily like Sirius. Sirius was bewildered. No other dogs he had met looked like this. “Why do you look like me?” he asked Redears.

“Oh hallo, hallo, hallo!” Redears answered. “Because we’re both dogs, I suppose. Hallo.”

“Don’t any of you ever say anything but Hallo?” Sirius said, quite exasperated.

“Of course not. That’s what dogs say,” said Redears. “Hallo.”

Sirius wanted to tell him to go and get lost in a tin of cat food, but he supposed Redears could not help being stupid. He said good-by politely and went on. Now I know what Basil means when he calls people morons, he thought. What idiots!

A little farther on, the crisscross streets were being knocked down. Sirius spent some time watching bulldozers plow heaps of bricks about. Some men in yellow helmets made a fuss of him and gave him a ham sandwich. They seemed to think he was one of the four moronic hallo-dogs.

“Here! Isn’t this your Bruce got out again?” one of them shouted to the man in the bulldozer.

“No,” bellowed the man. “Must be Rover or Redears. Can’t tell them apart.”

While they were bawling to one another, Sirius slipped off and came to a wide cindery place where all the houses had been cleared away. It ended in a part which had evidently been knocked down, but not cleared, some years before. There were big heaps of rubble, with bare bushes and small trees sprouting from them. The bricks and cinders were covered with white grass and the dry stalks of tall weeds.

As Sirius pushed his way through, he felt a tingle. It was more than a smell, bigger than a feeling. It was tingling, living, huge. He froze, with his head up. Only a Zoi could feel like that. It
must
be the Zoi. But the tingle was gone as he froze. Sirius strained nose, ears, everything, to catch it again. But there was nothing. Perhaps the wind had changed. Sirius ran to and fro, casting for the scent, or feeling, or whatever it was, almost frantic. There was nothing, absolutely nothing. He seemed to have lost the Zoi the moment he found it. Despairingly, he looked up at Sol.