Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Well. What’s there to say? Here I am, swaying back and forth with the walking motion of Karl. He’s still holding me by my collar. It’s starting to get uncomfortable. And this is pretty boring. I never thought I’d say this, but I’d much rather be walking, because my collar is squeezing, and I’m bored. Did I say that already? Ugh, when will this nightmare end? I just want to be in Pennsylvania! No one ever told me that sneaking away would be this hard. 

It’s moments like these when I wish I wasn’t such a softy. Why couldn’t I be like Russell and just do my job? I do have the best nose in the business, certainly good enough to sniff down some runaways. Maybe the Walkers would have been fine. No! Of course they wouldn’t! Master McNeil is a jerk! They never could have survived him.

Hey! What’s that in the distance? Looks like a light. Oh, but it’s so far off! And I feel so sleepy. My eyes are just so… so heavy…

I fall down with a slam onto something cold and hard.

“Here’s the dog we found, boss.”  Marcus states.

The boss peers at me curiously, “Hm. He’s a fine lookin’ dog, too. And he’s got a collar.” He gently picks up my tag. “Choco. Alright. Bring him in. He looks pretty hungry. Wonder what happened to him…”

“What should I feed ‘im, boss?” Karl inquires.

“Just the leftovers from dinner. I don’t have anything more proper for him at the moment. Make sure it’s the scraps, not the good stuff, if ya know what I mean.”

“Right. The necks and stuff, not the chicken breast.” Marcus says, nodding  his head in understanding.

“Now, get outta here. I have important business to attend to with the slaves.” The boss orders.

Shoot. He has slaves, too. Does every person here have slaves?! Goodness. Looks like I’m gonna have to break out again. But first, a bite to eat does sound lovely. I’m getting tired of squirrel and hard bread.

Karl and Marcus tie a rope to my collar and drag me to a pen similar to my older one, but smaller and with no Russell or Mel. They scoot me in and toss a food bowl with scraps in after me.

I trot over to the bowl and thrust my head in. Mmm, chicken! And is that a little gravy I taste? Yes! Yes, it is! Oh, food, it’s been so long! Unfortunately, I’m going to have to say goodbye to it soon, because the Walkers need me. I quickly chomp up the rest of my meal and turn to the door of the pen. Karl and Marcus are standing there.

“Aw! He likes it! I put some gravy on top o’ there for ya, little buddy! Did ya taste it?”

Marcus smacks the back of his head, “Of course he tasted it, ya doof! You practically drowned his scraps in the gravy! Master won’t be happy you wasted three cups of that gravy!”

“Oh, shut up, will ya? You’re always harpin’ on me for everything! You’re not my mother!”

Marcus storms off, and Karl shuts the pen door with a lot more extra force than necessary. The clang of the door is still ringing in my ears. Can you be more sensitive next time? Dogs can hear a lot better than humans can!

Okay, so I’m locked in here. That’s fine, I’m sure I can still catch a whiff of the Walkers when they let me out in the morning. If they let me out in the morning. If they ever let me out again. Oh, crap…

  ***

I open my eyes to a staggering light. Whoa! What is that bright, shiny thing in the sky? Oh, yes, it’s morning. I haven’t seen the sun in a while, what with all the sneaking around and running away. I stretch a little farther than I should have, thinking that my muscles will be better since I actually got to sleep in the night and not be running. Nope. I was wrong. I quickly retract my paws and instead start to roll around in the sunshine. Mm! Feels good!

After rolling around for about ten minutes, the boss comes up to my pen and unlatches it. This is my chance! I’m about to make for the opening when he ties a rope to my collar. Dang it!

“C’mon, Choco. Let’s see what you can do. I’m guessing you’re a trained tracking dog, huh?”

He tugs on my makeshift leash, and I follow him out of the pen. We walk a bit until we stop in front of a slave.

“Sniff.” He orders. 

Dogs aren’t dumb, no matter what any dog-haters may say. Of course, I know what he wants, but I decide to play a game. It’s called, ‘I don’t like you, so I’m gonna act stupid so I can save my friends named the Walkers.’ So I roll around, pretending to play with him.

He squints at me, and I could tell he was trying to think of another command that might work.

“Um, find?”

Still on the ground, I look up at him blankly. The slave keeps looking back and forth between me and the boss nervously.

A scowl crawls onto the boss’s face, and I could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears. I put my head down and back away a bit just to add to the effect. I even risk a tiny whimper. At first, I regretted it. It was just too dramatic. But it works. He turns around and looks as though he’s going to walk back to the pen.

“C’mon, you! Walk.” He growls while pulling away. I look at him dumbly and roll around his feet like I thought that’s what he wanted. Bad idea. He yanks my leash so hard that I almost throw up my kidneys. He storms into the little building that I was dumped in when Karl and Marcus first took me here. We walk in and see just those two with their faces scrunched up in hard concentration.

“What are you bozos doing? You look like two constipated twits!” The boss snarls.

“We’re trying to find a rhyme for the word ‘orange.’ Ya know one?” Karl asks.

“Blorenge is a mountain in Wales that also rhymes with orange. Now, where the heck did you Cro-Magnons find this worthless dog?!” The boss shouts.

I cringe a little, but quickly cover it with a small pant.

“It was him who found it.” Both men say simultaneously. They point to one another like a pair of five year olds.

The boss and I both roll our eyes, and he says, “Whoever did it, I’m going to need one of you to take him to the pound.”

Karl looks at Marcus, “N-now?” he stammers.

“Yes, now! Take him to the pound now! Do I need to spell it out for you?”

Karl nods apologetically, “Yes, of course, sir. I’ll take him to the pound now.”

Ohhhhhhh, gosh. That’s bad. Isn’t it funny how life doesn’t ever go the way it’s imagined? When I first found the Walkers after, ahem, taking care of Russell, and Pop called me hero, I was sure life was going to be wonderful. I would travel with them, and we’d get a big mansion, and we could eat lots of different foods like salmon! Oh, how I love salmon! But no! We had to go on this huge adventure, run all night, get sprayed by those dumb skunks, be captured by more slave owners, and be turned over to the pound. And I know all too well what happens at the pound! I start to tug and pull away from the boss, but no such luck. I don’t even think he noticed me. Dang!

“L-let me just grab my coat, sir.” Karl stammers, then walks into the next room. A moment later, he returns and takes the leash out of the boss’s hands. 

I realize I could try to escape here, but the odds don’t look in my favor. When it seems like a good chance I could get away, I won’t hesitate because I only get one opportunity, if I’m lucky.

Karl grabs my leash, and we walk outside. Oh, gosh- the terrain is very rocky and sinkhole-y. Karl strides forward and I struggle to keep up with him. Then, my front right paw slips into a sinkhole and I tumble forward. I expect Karl to stop and wait until I get up, but he just keeps on walking. 

What is up with this guy? I wonder as I’m being dragged along. I finally gain my footing back, and keep up at a brisk pace, while also scanning the ground for anymore hazards.

We walk over to an old, creaky wagon that looks like it was dunked in the Hudson River and then attacked by a sociopath with a sledgehammer. A shiver runs down my spine when I realize that the wagon was held together by spit and prayers, and I was about to get inside of it. And to make things worse, not only was the wagon old and dirty, but the horse was old and dirty, as well.

Karl sets me into the wagon. He takes the leash in his hand loosely. I realize this is my chance. I leap out of the wagon, and I believe I can make it! Dang it! He catches me mid-air.

“Oh, no you don’t, lil’ buddy. I know you’re so terrified right now that you probably want to wet yourself.” And without anything to reassure me, he ties my rope to the wagon and walks to the other side. Who cares? I didn’t need reassurance anyway. I wasn’t even that scared…

Karl hops into the other side and slaps the reigns against the horse’s back. The horse farts, and then begins to walk forward, slowly, yet steadily. We drive down the incredibly bumpy road for some time. 

I start to doze, and before I realize it, I’m with the Walkers again! I don’t even know how it’s possible, but I run into Mara’s arms without hesitation. I give Joel some good licks, and Mama and Pop rub me all over. Everyone keeps telling me what a good, brave dog I’ve been and patting my head. I look behind them, and there’s a massive mansion! They take me into a room and tell me it’s all mine! It’s bigger than the boss’s pen and Mr. McNeil’s pen combined! I trot over to a food bowl, and it’s filled with salmon. My mouth is watering, and I’m about to plunge my face in-

BOOM! A loud crack jerks me awake, and I realize I was sleeping. The wagon shifts dramatically to the left, for some reason. I tumble over to Karl and see that he’s swearing so much that his face is as red as tomato. He jumps out of the wagon and runs to the side that he’s sitting on. Apparently, the back wheel is cracked. 

“This stupid wagon has to get a freakin’ part replaced every two weeks! Gosh!” He yells. He starts to kick the side of the wagon repeatedly. I just continue to stare at him. After about five minutes of a temper tantrum, he finally calms down enough to speak.

“Okay, looks like we need to hitch a ride with someone. C’mon Choco. Lemme untie you and maybe I can use you for bait. After all, no one can turn down a dog and their devilishly handsome owner.”

I roll my eyes. Obviously, it didn’t cross his mind that if someone gave us a ride because they thought I was cute, they wouldn’t take me to the pound, and no one thinks he’s devilishly handsome. It looks like we’re fresh outta luck.

We stand around for a while, waiting for someone to come by. I scratch my ear, and Karl scratches his, which makes me think that he has fleas. I sneeze and Karl sneezes. I sit on the ground, and Karl follows suit. Maybe Karl is half dog. That would explain the hairiness and fleas. I come to a conclusion that no dogs could be as dumb as him, though. So he’s just a really embarrassing human. So sad.

Finally, a wagon rumbles down the road, and Karl thrusts his thumb out. I stick out my chest and hold my head high, until Karl tugs on the leash and says, “No! Look pitiful.” So I sink my head down and tuck my tail in between my back legs. The wagon keeps coming closer until it stops directly in front of us. I instantly smell overwhelming alcohol and realize that the driver is drunk. Oh, dear. Of course, Karl doesn’t seem to notice.

“Howdy! You got room for two more?” He asks.

The man’s answer is slurred, but I’m guessing he says yes, because Karl hoists me onto the back of the wagon and then climbs up himself. Ugh, this alcohol is burning my nose! What is Karl, nose blind? Geez. He sits on the edge of the wagon and dangles his feet off, the leash still gripped tightly in his hand.

I sit there next to Karl, and I can’t help thinking that we forgot something. Then I glance up and see the horse, still attached to the wagon, just standing there. It is honestly possible that Karl is the stupidest thing on earth, and that’s coming from a dog. I’m not saying that dogs are stupid, but when you’re insulted by an animal, it’s not a very good sign. 

We continue bumping down the road in complete silence, when the drunken man suddenly takes the horses into a trot, then a canter, then a full-on gallop! Karl and I bounce up and down for a second, but being on the edge, we tumble right off! I’m not a cat, so of course I don’t land on my feet. But I can take a fall, so after I come to a stop, I spring up! Ooh, my back ankle is pretty sore. I might have twisted it. Oh, well, no time for that now, as the leash is no longer in Karl’s hand! He groans on the ground as I leap over him and run back to the farm. I figure I could catch the Walkers’ scent back there. I glance back for a moment, wondering if I should do something to help the moaning Karl. I snort and continue running. Hey, it was his fault for hitchhiking with a drunken person in the first place! I fix my eyes on the road leading to my destination, and with an extra burst of energy, I make my way down the path.