‘No,’ said Loa firmly, as the puppy tried to tear the fish from his fingers. He held the flesh up in the air as the puppy leaped up, trying to grab it.
Little Boy’s puppy teeth were sharp. If the pup got into the habit of grabbing food from him now, he might keep doing it when he was fully grown and dangerous.
The puppy leaped again.
‘Down!’ said Loa.
He grinned at himself. Last year he’d have laughed if anyone had told him watching rubbish dogs could be fascinating.
The puppy sat on his furry bottom, his head on one side. Suddenly he rolled over. He looked up at him, so small and fluffy and silly Loa couldn’t help but scratch his tummy, then give him a bit of his fish.
The puppy sat up and gulped it down, then looked at him consideringly. He rolled over again, looking hopeful.
‘You think you’ll get more fish if you roll over for me, do you?’ said Loa.
‘Grrff,’ said the puppy.
‘Well, you’re right.’ He let the puppy lick the last of the fish from his fingers, as the one he’d named Little Girl padded up. She sat and looked at him, then rolled over too.
Loa laughed. These pups were clever! ‘No more fish. All gone, see?’ Loa held up his empty hands. Little Girl sat up again and whined.
He grinned again. ‘All right, here you are.’
He tugged a piece of smoked fish from his belt. He kept a small store now, in case a storm stopped him hunting. The puppy tugged at it eagerly. Loa pulled off another piece when Little Boy rolled over again too.
The other three puppies tugged at the skeleton of the fish a little way away. Those three never approached him, though they didn’t seem scared of him.
He looked at Little Boy and Little Girl, still chewing at the leathery smoked fish. They were so small, so … silly. That was it. They made you feel good just watching them wriggle and pounce as he dangled his fingers near them …
Suddenly a bird gave an alarm call down below. Loa looked up, searching the clearing. The hoppers were moving, three or four of them bounding towards his camp through the long grass.
Crocodile? He hadn’t seen any packs here yet, but crocs could travel far and fast at this time of year. Another monster lizard? He grabbed his spear, tumbling the puppies from his lap. They scampered up to their crevice. The other three had already vanished, as though they too sensed danger below.
The hoppers still bounded straight towards him, as though instinctively seeking the rocks and crevices higher up. But what were they so scared of?
Then he saw the dog. She must have crept through the grass on her tummy. Now she sped through the tussocks behind the fleeing hoppers.
She would never grab one before it escaped up here among the rocks. But the hoppers were so scared of the dog they hadn’t noticed him — or his spear.
He readied himself as the first hopper bounded uphill.
His spear caught it in the belly. The hopper swivelled and fell in front of him, kicking with its long hind legs. The others bounded past him, terrified, while he quickly wrung the neck of the one at his feet. Its eyes glazed in death.
He kneeled and felt it. Thick, soft fur — he’d skin it and use it to keep off the rain and keep in the warmth — and good meat on those big legs. Even the tail looked fat.
The dog’s wet nose nudged him.
‘You want some of my hopper, girl?’
The dog glanced at him then back at the dead hopper.
And he understood what had just happened. The shock was so great he sat back, till the dog began to pull at the carcass.
‘Not yet,’ he said. He dug out his spear, then cut into the hopper and began to skin it, carefully tugging the hide from the meat. The dog patiently waited for her share of their hunt.
Our hunt, he thought. The dog had planned this. She had driven the hoppers to him, as he waited among the rocks above the grasslands.
Would she ever do it again?
He looked at her, panting in the sunlight. She almost seemed to be grinning.
He grinned too. Yes, he thought. We’ll hunt that way again.
A man and dog were far more powerful than man or dog alone.