The outlook was limited. Unless you liked concrete, fencing and dozens of dogs. One of whom was staring up aggressively at my knee-caps, unable to crick his neck enough to meet my eyes.
‘What are you in here for?’ he demanded. Terrier fur covered a long short body that said ‘dachshund’ but his pricked ears and pointed muzzle suggested a soupçon of German Shepherd.
I wasn’t really in the mood for discussing racial backgrounds and I had a strong feeling that being a Soum de Gaia didn’t count for much among the inmates here, even if it might help spring me in the extremely unlikely situation that Marc didn’t find me quickly. How exactly he was going to find me was another of those questions that I buried as deep as ever the black Kong toy went in the rose bed.
‘It’s a mistake,’ I told the Dachs-terrier.
His eyes stayed hard. ‘That’s what they all say, so you might as well own up.’ A black, middle-sized pure mongrel charged back from the bars, where he’d had his nose poked through, right by two of the Humans. He was still panting as he gasped, ‘Child molester,’ and six pairs of canine eyes levelled on me, as high as they could reach.
It was the kind of silence that raised my hackles and laid my ears back, ready for attack. None of them were more than middling size and the one-eared whippet was little more than an extra number but the black mongrel and two labrador types, female, were well-muscled, the Dachs-terrier didn’t look like he’d back down easily, and I would really rather not feel the bulldog’s teeth on me, anywhere. She was the one who spoke.
‘Bitten three of the little horrors now,’ she declared.
‘Maisie’s our top scorer against kids,’ I was informed. ‘She’s hoping to hang onto her record and you being a big boy and all, we were wondering.... how many?’
‘One,’ I said, ‘but I didn’t.’
There was a marginal shift towards happy in the wrinkles on Maisie’s face. ‘Three,’ she confirmed, ‘in three different families. Hate them, the way they dart around like rabbits, and shriek and pull you about.’
‘And the really little ones always smell of food, then the moment you chew a bit of stale breakfast off their bib, the Mother’s shrieking like you’d eaten the baby.’ Wrinkling his wire-haired face, Dachs-terrier reflected. ‘Anyone eaten a baby?’ Negative responses. ‘No, I suppose not. It’s one of those crimes that get talked about and just don’t happen,’ he said, almost wistfully. He turned back to me. ‘They keep sending Maisie off to a family,’ he explained, ‘because she’s so cute, there’s always someone choosing her, and all they want is one less mouth to feed so they don’t mention the fact that Maisie isn’t what you’d call good with children...’
‘I’m very good with them,’ Maisie contradicted. ‘Sort them out in under twenty-four hours even with parental surveillance.’
‘... and then she’s back in here with us till the next sucker turns up.’
‘Good old Maisie,’ came the chorus from the labradors and Maisie flexed her wrinkles to their cutest.
‘I like children,’ objected the black mongrel.
‘You’re just an old softie, Prince,’ Dachs-terrier told him, wuffing under his breath to me, ‘six years old so no chance of a family, too old, and we all know what that means. He can forget his retirement plans.’
’Hey, boys and girls, grub’s on its way.’ A wave of barking had started out of sight and reached the pen beside ours, where another group of three or four dogs were pressed against the wire at the path-side, ears alert and tails starting to wag.
‘You’re in luck, big boy. It’s the princess,’ Dachs-terrier wuffed. ‘Just smell that.’ We all inhaled, deeply, breathing in young sweat, the salt tinged with sweet female scent. Vanilla and hot, clean hair. Shoe polish over dried mud from the river I’d played in with Newfie. She smelled of smiles.
We could hear the clanging of the cage door and glimpse Human clothes, jeans, a bucket swinging amid the eager press of hungry hounds. Her voice, purring. ‘Now then you lot, no pushing, no shoving, no stealing each other’s food. Hey, Jack, how are you today? Clementine, well hello, you.’ She had a word for everyone in turn, by name and the cages where she had been already were quiet, transmitting sleepy dog vibrations, even some of the sighs and snores that come from a full tummy when all’s right with the world. The same calm descended next door, we upped our volume and it was our turn. The cage door rattled and in came the one they called Princess.
‘Hold on now, Jack. And Melba, just hold on a minute.’ She put her bucket down on the concrete floor, gently pushed away Dachs-terrier and a labrador who were investigating a quicker route to food than seemed on offer. The bucket was covered and the Princess crouched beside it and looked me straight in the eyes, her arms held out towards me. I stood stock-still and looked back at her. She had the most undoggy eyes I’ve ever seen. I could see all different coloured rings but don’t ask me to distinguish the colours - I’m not Human! Hazel, I heard someone say, later. You can count on two paws the Humans I’ve looked long in the eye; make it four paws to include dogs, followed of course by a serious knockabout so my memories of the dogs’ eyes are somewhat blurred by the subsequent gnashing of teeth. I’d seen eyes full of love, eyes hard and angry, tired eyes, guilty eyes – but never eyes like these. It was as if the river and the Newfie and my master on the bank had all been distilled into two little pools of fun and friendship. I couldn’t look away.
‘So you’re the little new boy,’ purred the voice. ‘You don’t look so bad. We never get the full story, you know. Sometimes you’re made out worse, sometimes better, sometimes it just depends on who you’re with... people can be so stupid with dogs, so ignorant.’ As if aware that her voice was becoming harsher, she shifted position and resumed, purring again. ‘So little boy, Sirius, are you going to say hello? Come and see me little boy, Sirius...’ she kept looking at me as if she was trying to read something in my face. I still couldn’t move but I couldn’t look away either and I wanted to hear her talk to me again. The purr was reaching right down to my double dewclaws and I liked it. I liked it a lot. She laughed aloud. ‘Izzie,’ she said. ‘Izzie, come and have a cuddle little Izzie.’ The princess towed me into her eyes, steady as the Newfie against the fastest river current, and I was saved, her fingers running through my fur.
The door clanged behind her when she left. I’d been given my own food bowl, and the Princess made sure we’d finished eating, without stealing or scrapping, before she picked up her bucket and moved on to the next pen, leaving a hypnotic calm behind her.
‘They’re not all like that,’ Maisie pointed out, her eyes gradually de-glazing.
‘No-one’s like that,’ said Prince.
‘What is she in for?’ I asked.
‘Poor innocent!’ Maisie rolled on her back laughing, but not for long enough to let anyone take advantage and try a quick dominance challenge. I had the feelng that Maisie was a match for most dogs and I wouldn’t want to face her in a no-holds-barred session. I avoided thinking about three children.
‘Storytime at dusk, everyone, and we’ll get Sirius here up to speed. But for now, let’s have some peace and quiet.’ Dachs-terrier, Jack, stretched out on his back, and was soon cycling his back legs in dream-chase. His confidence in leaving himself so vulnerable made me feel secure, even amongst these strangers, but I wasn’t ready to open up that far and I hugged the side of the cage, protecting one flank, just in case. I kept an eye on the others from time to time, taking turns as to which sleepy eye I flicked open, but gradually sleep took me, shredding the stress of the day into dream cushion-foam.
Twilight, the violet hour, when your eyes turn wolf, ready for the night hunt – or ready to prevent the night hunt as you guard your flock on the mountain beneath the stars. A Soum de Gaia doesn’t need to be taught to protect; the instinct is deep in our blood along with the courage to fight bears, wolves and wild dogs. Twilight is the call of the wild to the wild, the unleashing of the inner wolf to the ancient battleground of dog eat dog. The great protectors of Soum de Gaia legends, Cesar, Achilles, Boudicca, had all been able to tap their inner wolf – and control it. ‘Rip out an enemy throat and lick a friend’s,’ was the protector’s maxim, according to Mother. Her brother worked the mountainside and had prepared from puppyhood, learning from his aunties, uncles and Human. ‘The difference between great protectors and good protectors is a matter of seconds; great protectors can switch from enemy mode (rip throat out) to friends (lick) in one movement. And the dog that takes too long to switch is doomed, whichever way he gets it wrong. And you must feel the bond that gives you strength, the bond that links you with your flock, so that you will protect them with your dying breath.’
This Soum de Gaia woke to twilight, sheepless, penned myself. I could see the start of night-shine in the others’ eyes and some restless pacing told its own story of inner wolves. ‘Storytime!’ The howl came from a pen down-wind of me so I had no idea who started the call but it was taken up all round the compound until Jack barked, ‘Newcomer first,’ and the silence of listening dogs invited me to begin.
Between dark and light, between wolf and dog, I howled my tale to the unseen voices that echoed mine as they lived my life with me. We sang the mountains and my brothers, my Choosing and my Undoing.
‘It isn’t fair!’ my voice belled out.
‘It isn’t fair!’ sang out around me.
‘I didn’t do anything wrong!’
‘He didn’t do anything wrong,’ the pack agreed.
‘And Marc will come for me!’ I howled. ‘He promised.’
‘He will come!’ the voices echoed, reaching for the crescent moon that glowed in a darkening sky.
‘He will come,’ I was hoarse as I finished the big story of such a little life. ‘He will come.’
Jack nudged my leg. ‘Sleep now, little brother. We keep watch over you.’ He barked an ending to the twilight. ‘The dark has risen. Until tomorrow, my friends.’
‘Until tomorrow,’ rose the chorus and then I dropped into a sleep deeper and blacker than under-river.
And so the new pattern of my days took shape. I found out that the Princess was only one of the Humans who brought our food and the time dragged longer and longer between her visits as I looked forward to them more and more. One non-feeding time, she turned up with a collar and lead. ‘Now then Izzie,’ she said, crouching and holding out her arms, as she had the first time, ‘I want to know a bit about you to help me find you a home, because you’re just beautiful aren’t you. Look at those big brown eyes of yours.’ She was purring again and it was just the same as before – there I was, with a chain fastened round my neck and the lead in the Princess’ hand. I didn’t have to be shown an open cage door twice – I was out of there! I’d like to say I felt guilty about leaving Jack, Prince and the others languishing in the pen but I was all nose, sniffing dog, dog and different dog, followed by strange petro-chemicals, then overpowering Human sewage that blasted my nose out of action until I cleared it with some sneezing and coughing. I’d been towing the Princess along nicely, mostly on my right but criss-crossing if something interested me, when a sudden jerk on my neck halted me. I looked back but she was still smiling so that was all right. She just hadn’t been properly lead-trained. So I started off again at a good pace, to show her how it went. Ow! Jerk again.
‘You really haven’t been trained to walk nicely, have you,’ she said. Funny, but that was just what I’d been thinking. I figured we’d get there, between us, and wagged my tail to encourage her. You won’t believe this but the poor girl was all over the place, and amazingly rough at times for such a slim thing. I’d get her walking nicely and then she’d suddenly veer off to the right, giving such a yank, I’d have to follow her. Worse, she’d sometimes veer left, tripping me up as she crossed me. Didn’t she know that was bad manners? And she made it clear that she wanted to be on my right all the time – I call that downright fussy to the point of compulsive. Or we’d be trotting along nicely and she’d stop, when there was no smell of any interest at all, and then when I’d really caught hold of a good scent and dug my heels in, she wanted me to walk straight on! No sense to it whatsoever.
After a while, I got fed up getting jerked around and wondered if I could second-guess her for more fun. So I really concentrated and the minute that I could feel a leg muscle turning, well I was turning before she was – no jerks, there. And I could feel the stop so with my muscles on red alert, there I was, a dead stop – no jerks there. And seeing as she had this obsession about being on the right, I bounded along on the left and sniffed left of her. And sniffed her, up close beside her hip, and then something wonderful happened. Her hand brushed against the side of my face and she told me what a superstar I was. I wanted more of that and tried again. Right up close, face stroked. Now this was more like it. But then there was a strong scent of fox and I just had to work on this a bit more so I stopped and braced myself firmly. Glory be! She stopped too! So it seemed she could stop with me sometimes but she liked to be the one who decided. It certainly wasn’t what I was used to but I had a straight choice; do what the Princess wanted and get compliments and caresses, or try to take the lead – in every sense! – and get unpleasant jerks spoiling my walk. Well, which would you choose? The truth is, that once I let the Princess take control on walks, I enjoyed them even more. She made all the decisions and I could relax and concentrate on pleasures of the nose.
Sometimes the Princess would appear with the lead and take one of the others out, often Maisie, and I would hate whoever had gone in my place, filled to biting-point with envy that built up and built up in the long wait imagining someone else’s pleasure. When my rival came back in through the cage door, I swear I was poised to sink my teeth in her – or him – and enjoy it, but then the Princess would name each of us in turn, a word, a caress, and you knew that everything in the world was how it should be and you had your rightful place in that world so you didn’t need to fight about it.
And when it was my turn, I wouldn’t even glance at the poor suckers left behind; it was my turn! I’d come to know the usual route, the tow-path by the canal, the waste-ground where the Princess lost all sense of direction and zig-zagged in different ways each time and I was so used to reading her movements that I could turn with her and listen to what she was telling me at the same time.
‘I suppose I ought to introduce myself,’ she said one day, as we were sniffing otter by the canal. ‘Elodie Jouve, eighteen-year old failure in mid-crisis. I know I can’t do well enough in exams to be a vet, I don’t see myself working in a dog’s home, all swilling out cages and dishing out food, with no time for giving the walks and training you really need... good boy, that’s nicely done...’ hand against cheek, warm silk against deep fur. ‘Now I’m just a volunteer I can take you out for a walk like this but if it was my proper job I wouldn’t be allowed, I’d have too many boring jobs to do. And then my parents keep trying to tell me that I should grow out of this thing about dogs...you really are a quick learner aren’t you, that’s my Izzie, well done...but it’s what I’m good at, I know I am. I suppose we’d better go back now, back to our cages. Well done, Izzie!’
Sometimes, as I said, it wasn’t the Princess who fed us. In fact, sometimes we were hardly fed at all. Sourface gave out a tenth of the food the Princess did.
‘Takes it for her dogs at home,’ Prince told me. ‘Heard her telling her man about it when he came in his car to collect her and they walked around to look at us so she could show off her favourites.’
‘Who’s her favourites?’
‘Not us. Or we’d get fed.’
‘And Bigwoman allows it?’
‘Maybe she knows and maybe she doesn’t. She steals money.’ I never had seen the point of money but you can’t be around Humans very long before you work out that it’s important to them. I had cost ‘a lot of money’ to buy. I had caused ‘thousands of euros worth of damage.’ ‘A fortune’ had gone on my vet’s bills. Marc told me that he had paid ‘a high price’ for loving me but he never said how many euros. The S.P.A. people thought I was worth ‘a lot of money’ and might ‘get something back’ for them. I thought perhaps they’d lost a dog of their own and could use any profits I made them to find this other dog. There was some good in everyone, a Soum de Gaia learned at his mother’s teat. But I knew that it was not good for a leader to be stealing money.
‘If she’s the leader, then isn’t she stealing from herself?’ I asked.
‘It’s not her that people give the money to, it’s us.’
‘But we can’t use it.’
‘I tried eating money once,’ said Jack, ‘don’t know what they smell in it.’
‘I know what you mean,’ a labrador joined in. ‘The coins are even worse than the paper. Break your teeth on them.’
‘That’s beside the point. As I was saying, Bigwoman keeps two books and she writes all the money that people give her in one book, then only some of it in another book, so that she can take some for herself.’
‘Where does the money come from?’
‘When people die, they like us to wag our tails and remember them so they give money to spend on something to make us happy and wag our tails.’
‘Like food.’
‘That’s it.’
‘Do you know their names?’
‘No idea.’
‘So how do you remember them?’
‘If we’re being polite, we say it before we eat. ‘Thank you all the people we’re remembering for giving us the food we eat.’ We say it in our heads of course, not out loud, otherwise the Humans would take our food away because we’re too noisy. And we never say it, even in our heads, with Sourface because if you don’t eat as quickly as possible, she takes it all away even if you’re quiet.’
‘Is there nobody who works here and actually likes us?’ I wondered.
They consulted each other. ‘Beanie-hat’s not so bad. He’s just a bit sloppy when he has personal problems. And he hasn’t had time to become like the others. Bigwoman says it gets you down after a while and there’s no point to it. She says she was like the Princess once.’ We contemplated the impossible.
‘Like Maisie could have liked children if things had been different,’ I offered.
‘Exactly,’ said Maisie. ‘I didn’t like children and things aren’t different so that proves Bigwoman couldn’t have been like the Princess, not ever.’
I didn’t like the thought either but I couldn’t help thinking. ‘And if Bigwoman was once like the Princess, then the Princess could turn into Bigwoman.’ They all looked at me, horrified.
‘Where do you get your ideas from, little boy!’ Jack snapped at me. ‘Anyone can see they’re different breeds; just look at their eyes and the way they stand, no to mention their size.’ He dismissed the absurdity. ‘But as for anyone who likes us... Sourface says there’s no gratitude. She says she’s found homes for dogs and then they don’t behave themselves so they get brought straight back. And she’s disgusted by the illnesses.’
‘That’s something else there’s no money for – vets. And least of all for preventing illnesses. You can forget the little routine trips you used to make. If they find a family for you, that pays, you might get cleaned up, but otherwise, forget it. Noticed you’re itching have you?’ I’d started to scratch while Jack was talking about illnesses and now I could feel the little tracks parting my fur, itching. When I scratched, hard enough to draw spots of red on my claws, the itch just moved somewhere else; it didn’t go.
‘Fleas,’ Jack told me, ‘and that’s just the beginning. Soon you’ll be wishing all your problems were fleas.’