That night a coyote howled in the desert. He was much closer than the last time I’d heard him. The sound of his voice made me uneasy. His howl made the hair on my back stand on end. He was so close that I could almost understand what he was howling about—almost but not quite. The sound didn’t make me feel lonely, though. Now, I had two new friends. Friends make you feel better.
I guess Red was right about my master. Mr. Shaffer didn’t take me to the pound. In fact, the next morning he even petted me and scratched behind my ears when he put my dog food in my bowl. “Some watchdog you are,” he said.
His words should have made my tail wag, but the way he said the word “watchdog” made my shoulders sag and my tail tuck under. I knew for sure that my master was not really proud of me. People are bad about that, I thought. They’re bad about saying one thing when they really mean something else.
When Poky’s master left for work, the beagle shoved the broken boards aside with his nose and came over to say good morning. We waited at the hole under Red’s fence until we heard a door slam and a car pull out of the driveway. Then we went to visit Red.
Poky walked right through the hole under the fence. He hardly had to squat down. I couldn’t get through. I was afraid to dig, so I waited by the fence until Red and Poky dug enough dirt out of the hole for me to squeeze my way under. We explored Red’s yard and romped and even chased one another around and around the yard. Even though he was old, Red was still pretty fast. He got tired quickly, though, so we went to sit by his doghouse.
“Got plenty of food left,” he panted. “You guys hungry? Help yourselves.”
“I’m always hungry.” Poky wagged his tail. “Thanks.” Then he looked up at me. “How about you? You’re as big as a horse. Probably takes a ton of dog food to fill you up. You go first.”
I flipped my tail to the side and sat down. “I may look as big as a horse to you, but that doesn’t mean I have to eat like one. I’m full. You eat. I’m not hungry.”
Poky finished Red’s leftovers. Then all three of us stretched out to soak up some of the warm sunshine.
We spent that day and the days that followed lying in the sun and playing chase. Red wouldn’t run for very long because he got tired. Poky had lots more energy. He was quick, too. Just about the time I got to him, he’d dart to the side. My long legs were faster than his short stubby ones, but I couldn’t turn as quickly. I nearly had to stop to make such sharp turns. Sometimes he’d turn so quickly that I’d stumble and land on my chin just trying to keep up with him.
I did have to be careful not to step on Poky. My paws were so big, and he was so small—one good smack might have smushed him.
I was glad that Red had forgotten to make me tell him about my little little boy. The memories of my boy and of Oklahoma always made me sad. I was having so much fun with my new friends. I wanted the good feelings to last, and I wanted to forget the sad times.