Author: dhsully
Company: US Army

Whiskers
An odyssey of a small dog

 One  

Amy peered through the window at Joey and Whiskers who were playing together in the back yard.  Her eyes blurred with tears and a lump formed in her throat as she watched the boy and dog romping.  She turned and faced her husband, who was sitting at the kitchen table having coffee.
"Larry, I honestly wish I could find a way to make you change your mind." Her voice choked.  "We've had Whiskers since he was a small puppy.  Don't you feel even a little attached to him?"
"Forget it, Hon.  Sure, I like the dog, but we have to be practical.  Sorry, but my mind's made up.  Can't you remember the problems we had the last time I got transferred?  Always looking for motels that would accept dogs.  Making all those stops at rest areas and then waiting for the dog to do his business.  And finding a place to rent was a hassle because of him.  I could go on." 
"What about Joey?  He'll be broken hearted when he learns that we're not taking Whiskers along.  And to be honest, I will, too.  I think of him almost as a family member."
Larry chuckled. "Joey'll get over it in a few days, and so will you.  Just be glad I'm not having the dog put to sleep.  Look, Hon, I promise that I'll find a nice neighborhood to leave him." He sipped on his coffee. "Look,   a cute little part-Pekingese like Whiskers will be picked  up by someone for sure.  He'll have a new home in no time."
Amy knew that it would be useless to push it any further.  She had already begged and pleaded and they'd had a big argument about it.  But Larry would not give in.
She turned her attention back to the kitchen window.  She doubted that she--or Joey--would get over it in a few days, as Larry had predicted.  
She remembered Twinkle, a little black and orange kitten from her childhood that had strayed away and never returned.  She'd had the kitten but a few weeks, but had grown to love it dearly in that time.
Her mother promised her another kitten and assured her that she would get over the loss of Twinkle in a few days.  But she grieved for a long, long time, imagining all sorts of  things that might have happened to her beloved little pet.
Whiskers had been with them nearly two years now.  Joey's uncle, Amy's brother, had rescued the mixed breed pup and given it to the boy. Joey had been begging for a dog and he and Whiskers bonded almost immediately.  
Larry had only grudgingly allowed Joey to accept the puppy.  He was not a cruel man, but had grown up in a family without pets of any kind.  He simply had no experience to identify with a boy's love for a dog.
The boy and the dog were now playing tug o' war with an old towel.  Now that school was out the eight-year-old Joey had but few friends to play with on a regular basis.   The neighborhood was  made up mostly of retirees and childless couples. There were a couple of girls his age and Joey liked them, but boys and girls of that age didn't enjoy the same kinds of games.
Joey was tugging on the towel when he slipped, falling flat on his back.  As Joey was lying there, Whiskers ran to him and began licking his face.  Amy's instinct was to run to the aid of her son, but he began to giggle as he grabbed the little dog and the two rolled in the grass. 
Yes, Amy thought, Joey was young and flexible and he would eventually get over it.  Time would erase his heartache and dim the memory of his little pal.  But it would take longer than a few days.  Much longer.
 ~~*~~
Whiskers was happy when he hopped in the car, for he loved to ride.  He usually had Joey in the back seat with him as a traveling companion, but this time he was alone. He was enjoying himself all the same.  He loved to stick his nose out the half-opened window and let the wind blow in his face.
After a time the car stopped and the back door opened up.
"C'mon boy, out you go."  Whiskers hesitated for just a second, for this seemed an unlikely place to get out.  But he was an obedient dog, and he did as he was told.
The little dog stood beside the road, bewildered as he watched the car pull away.  The family head, the one Joey called "Dad," had left him before, but never in a place like this.  He had always been left in the place where they prodded, poked, and stuck sharp things in him.  Sensing that these things were for his own good, he had always submitted without protest.  But his family always came back for him.
The sights and smells were all new to him.  There were houses, but none were familiar.  Uncertain of what to do now, he walked around inspecting his new surroundings.  
Whiskers was certain that the family must have had a good reason for leaving him here.  People were always doing things that he did not understand, but he had learned to accept and to live with their ways, mysterious though they were.  
It was simply beyond his comprehension that they would not come back for him.  He was part of the family, and as such he would protect them and look out for them as best he could--even to laying down his life.  He knew, too, that the family would take care of him.  And he loved them all, even the man who seldom showed him any affection.  
And so, Whiskers waited.
He waited the rest of the day, watching hopefully as each car passed.  And he was always disappointed.  He waited through the night, enduring a crashing thunderstorm.  But he never strayed far from the spot, for he wanted to be there when they came back for him.
When morning came, he felt a need to relieve himself.  He moved a short distance away from the road, near a house, and made his toilet.  He had no sooner finished than a man came running from the house, yelling at him.  Terrified, Whiskers ran.  He stopped and looked back just in time to see the man throw something at him.  He dodged the object and kept going.
He knew that it was time to move on.  Something was wrong, for his family wasn't coming back for him this time.  He decided that it was time to find his way back home.  Something in his brain, he didn't know what, pointed him toward the general direction of home.  He set out.  
There were many obstacles that caused him to stray from his course.  There were buildings, fences, and houses that he had to skirt.  There were bridges he had to cross.  
There were streets that he had to cross, and once he narrowly escaped death as a car, tires screeching, nearly hit him.  From that experience he learned to watch for the big machines.
He slept wherever he could find a secluded spot, and when he became hungry, he ate whatever discarded scraps he could find.  Once he ate part of a road kill, later becoming ill and throwing it up.
But Whiskers would not be deterred from his mission.  He was determined to return to his family.
~~*~~
Three days later, the sun was setting when a weary, hungry Whiskers found his home.  He made his way up the steps and scratched on the door.  No one answered, and he went around to the fenced back yard.  He peered through the fence, hoping to see Joey there.  But he saw an empty, deathly quiet yard.  He lay down in front of the gate and waited.  Darkness came and he fell asleep.
When morning came, Whiskers decided that he could wait no longer.  He was hungry, and left the house in search of food.  Later in the morning, he came across a place with strong smells of food.  The enticing smells drew him closer.  There were many people at the place.  
A man came out of the place carrying a bag.  Whiskers approached the man cautiously, tail wagging.  The man looked at him, hesitated for a moment, and then reached in the bag.  He threw a hunk of meat and bread on the ground in front of Whiskers.  Whiskers wagged his tail furiously as he gulped down the food.  When he looked up, the man was gone.
Sated, he returned to the empty house.  Later in the day, he endured another thunderstorm.  The rain left puddles, and the thirsty Whiskers drank his fill.
Finally, Whiskers gave up.  He sensed that his family was gone, never to return.  Forlornly, he left the house in search of more food.  He returned to the place of good smells.  This time, however, his begging was ignored.
As he wandered around the place, he watched as two dogs approached.  They were both larger than Whiskers, but he cautiously approached the pair.  After some sniffing, wetting shrubbery, and tail-wagging, the pair accepted him.  He followed them as they went around to the rear of the place, where there were containers filled with many items, some of them edible.
He stayed with them, and the pair became a trio.  The pair seemed to know all the places to find food and water, although on occasion angry people chased them away.  
Weeks passed, and Whiskers began to regard the dogs as family, although he'd never found the love and companionship that he'd enjoyed with Joey.
Whiskers was dirty, and he grew sickly and emaciated. But he survived--until the day the man in the truck came.  
When the man jumped from the truck, Whiskers' street-wise companions fled.  But Whiskers hesitated, and by the time he realized he was in danger it was too late.  He felt a loop around his neck.  The man threw the shocked and bewildered Whiskers in the back of the truck.
The man took him to a place where there were many other dogs.  He knew that this was a bad place.  The atmosphere here filled him with despair.  
He was placed in a cage.  They fed and watered him, but otherwise he was ignored.  As time passed, he watched as new dogs were brought in and other dogs were taken out.  He had a sense of foreboding; he sensed that he was destined to die here in this place of evil.  There was no hope.  No escape.  He lay in the cage day after day and waited.
Nothing happened for several days, but then one day he awoke from a nap to see two men approaching his cage.  It was not feeding time, so he knew they were not bringing food.   The two stopped and one of them inspected a tag on his cage. 
“This one hasn’t been claimed and his time is up.  You can pick him up and take him to the chamber this afternoon.”