The Storm Read online

  Shep felt stronger with Callie beside him. “What about this thing?” he woofed. He loped over to a clear tank full of water with little flickering things swimming inside it. “If we pulled this over, it might scare the wild dogs.”

  Callie sniffed the base of the tank. “Smells good to me.”

  The other dogs stood taller, and their tails began to wag. It was working!

  “The wild dogs won’t expect us to defend ourselves,” Shep barked, his voice strong. “If we do anything besides cower with our tails between our legs, they’ll be shaken. Daisy,” he yipped, nipping her shoulder, “you’re made of some tough fur. What ideas do you have?”

  Daisy’s bug eyes bulged ever farther out of her head. “Me? Well, let’s see.” She snuffled around, ending up at the ramp. “What about this?” she yapped. “If we nudge the plank out of the hole, the wild dogs will have a tough time getting inside.”

  “Double brilliant!” squealed Callie. She was practically hopping around the den. “Yes! Cheese, any big dog — if you lift this end of the plank with your head, it should slide Outside.”

  Rufus pushed his way to the front. “But if we get rid of the plank, how will we escape? We’ll be trapped!” His eyes were wide. Shep sensed that fear had its fangs around Rufus’s neck.

  “Don’t worry,” Shep assured him. His deep, grumbling voice both soothed and cowed the anxious squaredog. “Once we’ve defended this place from the wild dogs, and once the storm has blown away, we’ll figure something out.” He stood over Rufus, eyes hard and steady, ears forward and tail high.

  Rufus understood — Shep was in charge, but he wasn’t going to bully Rufus into submission. Rufus bowed his head. “There’s a second level above this one.” He sighed. “Perhaps those of us who are no good for anything can simply cower up there?”

  Callie strutted up to Rufus and nipped him on the neck — she’d learned a thing or two from Frizzle. “Enough of this tail-dragger talk! Every dog is good for something! Your idea is actually helpful, Rufus. That second floor will be our backup plan. If the wild dogs get too far inside, we’ll all run for the second floor and hide there.”

  Rufus’s eyes glinted and his jaws opened in a light pant. “You like my idea?” he snuffled.

  “It’s a great idea,” Callie woofed. “Now let’s all get to work!”

  Shep gratefully handed over the role of leader to Callie and Higgins. They began barking orders and the other dogs followed their commands. Callie had Virgil and Cheese work on pushing the ramp out of the hole in the window.

  Higgins had an idea for how to get the small dogs on top of the shelf. “What if you big chaps knock this other shelf over?” he yapped, indicating the shelf next to the one Shep had pointed out for the aerial attack. “Then we can climb up it, the way we used the wooden plank to get inside here.”

  Snoop and Dover joined Shep, and the three began to push on the shelf. After a few thrusts with their forepaws, the shelf began to wobble.

  As he watched, Higgins spouted more uses for his shelf-ramp. “From the top of the shelf,” he barked, “we can get up onto the second level without having to leg it to the stairs at the back of the den. And as we run up the ramp-shelf, we can also drag toys and other things up with us to drop onto the wild dogs.”

  “Sounds good,” woofed Shep, though he had a hard time keeping up with the little Furface’s chatter.

  Once Higgins’s ramp was in place, Shep bounded from site to site, lending a paw or a fang to whatever else needed doing. Boji was sniffing out a way to topple over the tank full of water. She found a handle on the front, but pointed out that the tank would then fall onto whoever pulled the handle.

  “Oh, dear,” she woofed. “And I do hate doors. But what if I just pushed it from the back?” She trotted around to the back of the cabinet and, rearing, slammed her forepaws into the tank. It wobbled!

  The more the dogs snuffled about, the more ideas they had. Callie dragged beds from the aisle where they’d buried Frizzle to cover the sharp, clear teeth on the floor around the window. That way, the big dogs could push the ramp out without hurting their paws.

  “And after, we can pull the beds off to give the wild dogs a nasty surprise,” Callie barked, a wicked glimmer in her eye.

  Even Oscar had an idea. “They’re coming here because they’re hungry, right?” he yipped. “What if we tear open some bags of kibble? They might run to eat it instead of attacking us.”

  Shep was so happy, he rolled the little pup with a playful slap of the snout. Oscar panted, scrambled to his paws, and pounced on Shep’s tail. Shep rolled onto his side, allowing the pup to jump on top of him.

  “You got me!” Shep cried.

  Oscar’s tail wagged so hard that he fell over and rolled off Shep’s belly.

  They played for a few heartbeats, and then Oscar stepped back.

  “Thanks,” he woofed.

  “What for?” Shep rolled onto his paws.

  “For saving me up in that hallway,” Oscar said. “But you didn’t have to say you’d find my mom.”

  “You were pretty scared,” Shep woofed. He’d kind of hoped the pup had forgotten the whole morning.

  “Yes,” Oscar yipped. “But you smell like a good dog. I’d follow you anywhere.” The pup licked Shep on the nose, then bounded away calling for Boji and yapping about his kibble idea.

  There was a loud crash. Shep scrambled down the aisle and saw that the others had succeeded in pushing the plank out of the window. Callie began dragging the beds off the fangs of broken glass. Shep joined her.

  “Good idea,” he woofed. “The wild dogs will get a bite on the paw when they first step inside. Maybe it’ll keep some of them from jumping through the hole.”

  “I thought the wild dogs would follow their alpha anywhere,” barked Callie.

  “Maybe not,” Shep replied. “Some are loyal to the pack leader, but many are just scavengers. They follow the pack when it suits them. If a couple of dogs cut a paw jumping in here, the rest might think twice about following.”

  Callie dropped the bed by the side of a shelf. “How do you know so much about these wild dogs?”

  The woofs solidified on his tongue. What will Callie think of me?

  “I was one.”

  One night in the fight kennels, Shep was awoken by the shriek of a siren. All the dogs began to howl. The kennel doors burst open and strange men in dark clothes, with shiny black bowls on their heads and blinding lights in their hands, charged in. Some had guns and they began shooting dogs with darts; others had long poles with ropes dangling from them.

  The fear smell was so thick Shep gagged with each breath. He knew something bad was happening. When a man in black cut open the lock on his cage, Shep bolted for the door. He knocked the man over and raced down the path between the cages, claws scraping the stone. There was so much noise and confusion, so many dogs howling and thrashing in their cages, that Shep was able to slip out of the kennel doors and into the dark.

  Outside, he was confronted with strange smells and noises. The dirt, the trees, every thing was new to a pup born in a stone cage with metal mesh walls. Shep stumbled over roots and slogged through mud, scenting for anything familiar. Smells of gasoline and human sweat led him out of the woods and onto a street lined with boxy human dens. The Silver Moon hung above him with the Great Wolf’s coat glinting all around her. Shep begged the Great Wolf for help.

  And suddenly, help appeared.

  A lean brown dog toppled over a garbage can and nosed around in the refuse looking for kibble.

  Shep approached in a low crouch, ears up and nose open, tail flat. He didn’t want to appear aggressive, but he wasn’t going to be caught off guard. He grumbled a greeting, with the slightest note of warning mixed into his bark.

  The other dog looked at him briefly, then went back to nosing through the trash. His tail remained flat and he didn’t raise his hackles. He seemed to be inviting Shep to join him, and so Shep loped a bit closer. Shep flicked his t
ail, asking if he could sniff; the strange dog wagged his tail back and made no move to attack. Shep scented the dog’s rump: He was older then Shep, but not an old timer; he wasn’t hungry, but wasn’t rolling in kibble; and he had no scent of human anywhere on him.

  “Where are you from?” Shep yipped, still keeping his distance.

  “From?” the dog barked. “Everywhere. I’m my own dog.”

  The strange brown dog introduced himself as YipYowl. He’d been born to a street dog, and had survived on his own for as many cycles as he could remember. Shep didn’t have a name at the time, so YipYowl called him Bone.

  “You’re so skinny, you’re like a bone with fur on it,” YipYowl said.

  YipYowl shared his garbage with Shep. After eating, they found a shallow den in the hollow of a dead tree for the night. In the morning, YipYowl began what Shep learned was his daily routine: scenting out garbage cans, looking for ones that would be good to attack in the night.

  “You never eat during sun time,” YipYowl explained. “There are too many humans about, and they’ll come after you like rabid squirrels if they catch you messing with their cans.” He showed Shep a scar on his flank from where a human had attacked him.

  Shep was grateful for YipYowl’s help. He had no idea how to live Outside. His whole life had been spent in cages — either the kennel or the fight cage. But YipYowl’s wasn’t an easy life. Shep learned that his cage had protected him from certain dangers. Sleeping in caves and hollowed-out trees meant waking with bites from rodents and bugs. And out in the wild, no one delivered even a meager bowl of stale kibble to you in the evening. Humans guarded their trash and often chased Shep and YipYowl off before they could get a sniff at the can. Some nights, they went without a meal. They’d snuffle around as the moon passed over their heads and not find a single piece of kibble.

  Yet most dangerous of all were the wild dogs. Some were street dogs like YipYowl, some were pets set loose by their masters, but they were all terrible and cruel. The wild dogs attacked other dogs, stole their food and shelter. Shep had thought he’d seen the snout of the Black Dog in the fight cage, but these wild dogs taught him that he’d merely caught a glimpse of that beast.

  YipYowl had managed to keep the wild dogs off his scent until one cold night. Shep and he were investigating the contents of a Car-sized trash bin outside a long, low building when they were attacked by a couple of wild dogs. These dogs were all haggard, without a trace of fear in their eyes — Shep was looking the Black Dog in the snout.

  “Clear out of this can,” one growled. “We’re eating whatever’s inside.”

  The other dogs didn’t even wait for a reaction. They attacked YipYowl and Shep without warning. The dog who jumped onto Shep hadn’t expected much of a fight; he leapt back in shock at the ferocity of Shep’s defense. Shep felt like he was drowning in his rage — his mind reeled with memories of the fight cage. He slashed at whatever fur was in front of him. Lost in the fight, his claws and fangs moved without his having to think about them.

  Suddenly, the air was filled with sirens and flashing lights. Shep panicked, remembering the fear smell in the fight kennel. It woke him from his fight trance, but there was nowhere for him to run. He only had time to see the bodies of the other dogs — the wild dogs and YipYowl — before a human shot him with a dart.

  Shep felt his head fog over, and then all was dark. He awoke in a clean cage with a shiny white floor and metal walls.

  “I was trapped in that kennel for only a few suns,” Shep whimpered. “My boy took me from that place and brought me here.”

  “Did you kill YipYowl?” Callie woofed.

  “I don’t know.” Shep stared out the window hole at the raging storm. He wished that it would suck him out into its fury, into oblivion.

  “Is that why you’re so scared of lifeblood?” Callie rested her muzzle against Shep’s shoulder.

  Shep glanced at her, snuggled against his side. She wasn’t disgusted; she didn’t abandon him, even now that she knew his deepest shame.

  “Do you think I can ever make up for it?” he whimpered. “Can I ever be a good dog if I’ve done something so bad?”

  Callie licked his jowl. “Just keep trying,” she woofed. “It’s all any dog can do.” She looked up at the storm. “And you’ve changed since then. You fought off those dogs who attacked Frizzle without losing yourself to the fight. Maybe YipYowl’s up there with the Silver Moon, like the way you thought the Great Wolf looked down on you. Maybe she saved a part of him, and that part sees how good a dog you are now.”

  Shep panted softly. “That’d be nice.” He watched a swirl of rain dance in the dim light. “Maybe Frizzle’s up there, too. Curled around the Silver Moon, looking down on all of us.”

  Callie grinned. “I can imagine Frizzle up there, nipping at the Great Wolf’s scruff.”

  Shep sat with his friend, flank to flank, feeling the wind of the storm in his fur and the mist of raindrops on his whiskers.

  “What was that?” Callie stood, sniffing the air.

  Shep heard something, too. A high-pitched yip, and then growling. He stood against the window wall and peered out the hole. Shadowy forms moved amidst the shifting raindrops.

  After several heartbeats, they heard Higgins yowl from on top of one of the shelves.

  “They’re here!” he cried. “The wild dogs have returned!”

  The howls and barks of the wild dogs soon rivaled the shriek of the storm winds. It wasn’t long before Shep saw the noses of the most intrepid dogs in the wild pack sniffing at the jagged edges of the window hole, paws and bellies visible against what remained of the glass wall.

  “To your places!” barked Shep.

  The small dogs scrambled up Higgins’s ramp-shelf. Little Oscar was lifted directly onto the second level, but the rest remained on top of the shelf with toys, brushes, and whatever else they could bite between their jaws.

  Boji and Cheese stood behind the water tank, paws against the cabinet, ready to push it over. The other big dogs, led by Virgil, stood guard at the bottom of the toppled shelf to keep the wild dogs from running up it.

  “Callie,” Shep woofed. “You go up the ramp with the others.”

  “I stand with you,” she barked. “We’re a team.”

  Shep licked her wrinkled forehead. “I want us to stay a team. You lead the small dogs on top of the shelf.”

  Callie’s tail drooped. “You sure?” she asked.

  Shep wagged his tail and nipped her ear. “They need a leader, and I’m not sure Higgins is up to the task.”

  Callie waggled her tail, then licked Shep’s nose and raced up onto the top of the shelf.

  Lightning blazed, thunder boomed, and the winds spattered rain against the stone floor. The wild dogs pawed at the hole, trying to figure out how to get in now that the wooden plank had been removed.

  Shep took a position in front of the hole, near the stairs toward the back of the den. He could see all the dogs from there. He chattered his teeth in anticipation, looking first up at Callie, then Boji and Cheese, then Virgil.

  A wild dog came flying through the window hole. He landed with a scream, his paws sliced by the broken clear teeth on the floor.

  “The floor bites!” the dog yelped.

  Another dog leapt through the hole; this one sprang off the back of the first to avoid the teeth.

  He landed close to the tank. “Didn’t think we’d get past your little trap?” he growled.

  “Now!” barked Shep.

  Boji and Cheese thrust their forepaws against the tank. It wobbled, then crashed to the floor, dousing the wild dog with a wave of water and flickering things. The dog was knocked off his paws and washed back against the window wall.

  Unfortunately, the water from the tank also washed away the sharp teeth on the floor.

  The next wild dog leapt through the hole and discovered this turn of events. “The teeth are gone!” she bellowed.

  A furious howl from Outside answered her cal
l, and dogs began leaping into the den one after the other.

  Shep closed his eyes. Great Wolf, protect us.

  “Boji, Cheese, to the shelf!” Shep barked. “Callie! Now!”

  A rain of toys and brushes fell onto the wild dogs. Those struck by the falling debris whimpered and cringed, surprised by the attack from above. But they quickly recovered. Before the small dogs could launch their second assault, some of the wild dogs were headed for the ramp-shelf.

  Shep lunged into the wild pack. He snapped at whatever fur he could find and dodged the dogs’ flashing teeth as he raced through the crowd forming near the window. He hoped to distract enough of them to keep their main force from attacking Virgil and the others. Then he remembered Oscar’s plan.

  Turning mid-stride, Shep tore into the jowl of the nearest wild dog and bounded down an aisle. Just as he’d hoped, several dogs raced after him. Springing off his hind paws, Shep vaulted over the ripped bags of kibble. The wild dogs scrambled to a halt in front of the pile.

  “Food!” one girldog shrieked. She began gobbling mouthfuls of kibble.

  Several other dogs came running down the aisle, having heard her cry. Soon, a large portion of the wild pack was huddled in that corner, stuffing their snouts.

  Shep raced back to the window hole. The big dogs were doing their best to hold back the wild dogs, but there were just too many of them. Callie and the other small dogs tried to keep the wild pack off its guard by tossing objects first from one end of the shelf, then the other. But the wild dogs were smart. They figured out that only a small number of dogs were on top of the shelf, and that the objects they threw did little damage.

  A wild dog attacked Snoop, rolling him back against the shelf. The dog bounded up the ramp-shelf.

  “Daisy, watch your tail!” Shep barked.

  Daisy lunged sideways. The wild dog overshot his attack and ran off the edge of the shelf, plummeting to the floor. He landed in a heap and did not get back on his paws.

  Thank the Great Wolf, thought Shep. But the small dogs might not be so lucky with the next attack. He had to do something.