The scrappy mutt Biscuit whimpered in silence after the employees
left the Denver SPCA for the night. She and the other animals
squeaked, whined and purred, but no one was left in the kennels or
offices to hear the stray cats and homeless dogs curled up in their
cages. Other than the occasional visitor who balked loudly at the
sixty-five dollar adoption fee, excitement rarely disturbed the
tranquil neighborhood of small businesses and retail shops. Sleep
came quickly. The calm lasted until the wee hours of the
morning.
Teeth chattering with cold and fear,
Rosie asked, "Where're we going now?"
A railroad crossing loomed ahead. As
the van rumbled over the tracks, the animals bounced and banged into
each other. Guffey was the first to regain his balance. "You heard
them say there's a contact waiting for us? They plan to sell us and
keep the money."
Rosie said, "Why did they pick on
us?"
Guffey blinked slowly and said
nothing.
"Poor Pip," Rosie said, sidling next to a
tiny dog with wiry hair the color of eggshells. "He's barely budged
since those men threw us in here."
Biscuit woke from a short nap the next
day, feeling frisky. On the streets, sleep was rarely peaceful or
sound.
Buddy lumbered through the front door
with a box in his hand. "Yummy! Dog biscuits."
Thor hoisted his body off the floor. "I
love dog cookies, too."
Buddy stopped by Biscuit's cage first
and gently patted her head. "You have the funniest ears I've seen in
a long time."
Biscuit's triangular shaped ears seemed
too large for her head. One ear was mostly brown while the other was
golden.
Buddy approached Thor and looked at the
floor. "Hey, who bled on the floor?" He looked up, waving a finger
and flashing a quick but cautious grin. "You know anything about a
bloody rag, big guy? Well, I just found one that might help the
police find the bozos who took our pals."
At the end of a long rest, the animals
stood up and shook their drenched coats. The pack struggled up the
riverbank to a small copse of trees where there might find warmth and
rest.
"I hope this was worth it," Rosie
said.
"It was our only chance," Guffey said as
he glanced at the others. "Hey, where's Sissy?"
"Here comes our friend," Mary Lee said.
"Don't go. He might help you."
"Help nothing. Look over there," Rosie
said. "A truck is approaching. Hurry up everybody."
Sissy turned to scamper away, calling,
"Good-bye, Mary Lee. Thanks for your help."
The pack sped across the unspoiled
plains, never looking back. Long after Guffey sensed they were safe,
they kept running.
"One night, my owner shouted I was too
much trouble. She yelled all the time so I didn't pay any attention.
Then, she stuffed me inside a cardboard box and taped it shut. She
took me for a ride and tossed the box out. By the time I clawed and
scratched my way free, I was exhausted. And it was cold and raining
outside. I looked around and got the shock of my life. Huge piles of
smelly garbage and big fat rats were everywhere. I sat there and
shivered. I couldn't believe what she had done. I thought it was a
joke. I didn't know what to do."
Guffey dug his way up the trunk of
the tall pine, and crawled out on a limb. His eyes soaked up every
move the men made. His tail drooped with relief as he scampered down
the tree.
"The coast is clear," he told the pack.
"The men were chasing deer. Let's get out of here."
Despite his relief, Guffey was still on
alert. Other men with rifles might be around so he urged the pack to
keep eyes, ears, and noses open.
Rosie stopped to rest. "Should we all
travel together? All eight of us might attract
attention."
" Isn't that what we
want?"
" Yes, but we're not sure who will help
us."
Guffey eyed the pack. "You're right.
The Sheriff or the pet thieves might be looking for
us."
Rosie aimed her snout at a rocky hill.
"I see a cave behind those shrubs."
"Should you and I go ahead?"
"Good idea," Guffey said. "When we find
help, we'll come back."
"Are you sure we should split up when
people are after us?"
