Short story - The Wild Dog

The Wild Dog

The cattle-grid at Luke's front gate was a killer. Every time he rode across his teeth clattered like a machine gun and the jolting ricocheted around the back of his skull. By the time Mindy was old enough to ride to school with him he could go so fast that his wheels buzzed over the grid: a Spitfire doing a low pass.

“Don't slow down,” he yelled at her over his shoulder on the run-up. Sticks and bark scattered from his wheels. He roared over the grid and landed safely on the other side, then stopped to watch.

The bars were far enough apart to take your head and the whole grid spanned two and a half metres with a deep hole underneath. Mum was always worried someone would break a leg on it but Dad said legs healed and kids were more careful than she thought. Dad understood these things. Sometimes.

“Come on,” he called.

Mindy backed further, right up under the old gum tree. The breeze stirred the tree and loosed a shower of twigs over her head, littering the ground beneath. She plucked a long strand of bark off her shoulder and tossed it aside. Just like a brown snake, Luke thought. A brown snake could kill a bull.

Bruno had had no chance.

Mum would make him rake the yard again or there'd be no knowing what lived under that tree. Unless you counted Mindy, since she looked like staying there forever. He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed at her.

Mindy put her head down, pumped her short legs and drove down on that grid like a seven-year-old tornado. The bark fluttered away.

The farm dogs pricked up their ears and came to their feet.

Mindy hit the grid. Her helmet shook. One hand came off the handlebars.

“Go!”

Mindy grabbed the bars and rose up off the seat. Half a metre to go. Her face strained. The jolts grew harder.

Luke held his breath.

The wheels hiccoughed over the last bars and then she was across, toppling into the dusty track. She hit the ground with a thud.

The farm dogs in the yard set up a wild chorus of applause from their chains.

Mindy untangled herself, grinning. “You said it was hard.”

“No, I didn't.” Luke had fallen off in the middle the first time he'd tried and had to be rescued by Dad while the farm dogs laughed. He scowled. After all, he was the one who had to make sure Mindy got to school OK and that was harder work than crossing a cattle grid. Bruno used to cheer for him. Bruno had waited for him every day after school. Once, Bruno was the one making sure Luke got home. “I just said you'd break your arm if you came off.”

Mindy shrugged. “But I didn't. Beat you to the bridge.” She launched herself down the track and Luke tore after her, leaving a trail of dust.

“Don’t stop on the way,” Mum had said earlier. “I don’t want Mindy seeing the mess in Cotter’s top paddock.”

Luke had forgotten about Cotter’s sheep. The last wild dog pack attack had left eight lambs dead and three more badly injured. The dogs were pests; everyone said so. But Bruno had killed sheep too, once. Bruno had been desperate.

“They were probably just hungry,” Luke said. “Someone needs to give them a chance.” A fresh start. Like they’d given Bruno.

Mum’s lips tightened. “Someone needs to give them a bullet. It’ll be our sheep next. And I don’t want Mindy thinking too hard about it.”

Then Mum tried to give him a hug. As if she understood about Bruno. He twisted away.

Funny how Mum worried about what Mindy thought, but not about him.

*

Luke unchained his bike after school and was wheeling it out of the racks when Mindy came trotting along. He'd nearly forgotten about her.

“Hurry up,” Luke said, slinging his leg over the seat and taking off.

“Wait for me,” Mindy shouted. Luke slowed down a fraction. They left the road and rounded Cotter's top paddock to let themselves through his gate, shutting it behind them. Quick. Quick. Or Mindy might start noticing bloodstains on the grass.

Slow, clumsy humans. Bruno used to slip through the fence like quicksilver and wait for Luke: golden eyes alight, ears pricked and tongue lolling in dog laughter. Until the snakebite. Mum had killed the snake, but it had been too late. “Give your mum a break, eh mate? Dad had said once. “It wasn’t her fault. She loved Bruno too.”

“She shot him,” Luke said.

Dad patted his shoulder. “Couldn’t leave him to die like that.”

“There’s antivenom for pets now.”

“Not close enough, there isn’t.” Dad bent down to look Luke in the face. “Mum’s upset about it too, you know. She loves you more than she loved Bruno. Try and understand.”

Luke had silently pulled away. And now, he had to shove Bruno out of his head and get Mindy home.

Mindy was puffing. “Can you carry my bag?”

Luke eyed her bag. It was twice as fat as she was and hung lopsidedly halfway down her legs. He took it off her and hefted the weight. “Didn't you eat your lunch?”

“I forgot.”

“Fine. Can you go faster?” If they hung around here any longer she’d see the hanks of reddened wool and skin caught on the fence.

“My bike keeps getting slow.”

Luke sighed and strapped her bag onto his front. One backpack on the front, one on the back. Lucky he could still see over the top. He took off again.

Mindy wailed from behind. Luke jammed on his brakes and planted his feet. “What now?”

“My bike's not working,” Mindy said.

Luke turned around. Mindy was walking, wheeling her bike along. She stopped and kicked the front wheel. The tyre was flat.

Unbelievable. They still had three kilometres to go. At this rate they wouldn't be home until dusk. Luke thought of all the things he could say, gritted his teeth, and didn't say them.

“You'll have to walk.” And he would have to ride agonisingly slowly, because Mum and Dad would go mental if they knew he'd left her to do the last three k's alone. He could almost hear them. “She'll get lost.” “She's only seven.” “She needs help over the grid.”

What about him?

“Can you double me?” said Mindy.

“I’m not carrying you and your bag and your bike.”

“Can't we leave it here?”

Luke sighed again and propped her bike against the nearest fence post.

“Hop on then.” He steadied his bike, feet on the ground. Mindy's face broke into smiles. She clambered up on his handlebars. Luke pushed off hard with one foot and forced the opposite pedal down with the other. The bike wobbled into motion. His face was half buried in Mindy's shoulder. He could hardly see the track ahead.

Mindy whooped. “Go faster.”

“I am going faster.” This was harder work than it should have been. Luke's leg muscles hurt. Mindy was wobbling around on the handlebars and just keeping upright was difficult. The track went downhill.

“Hold on,” he shouted. There was a corner at the bottom of the hill and Luke had spent the last few months building it up into a berm.

Mindy shrieked.

“Lean into it,” he shouted, and the berm swept up to meet them. The wind sang. Mindy's hair flew in his face. He dropped his weight low, carved through the corner – and the weight of the backpacks, plus Mindy, pulled them all over. They hit the dust together.

Luke rolled out from underneath, spitting gravel. His elbow stung and a little trickle of blood ran down his arm. Mindy's chin wobbled.

Then a soft noise came from the long grass at the side of the track. The grasses shivered.

The noise came again: half whine, half growl.

Luke froze. He could make out the animal now: the dark pointed ears, golden glaring eyes, wolfish face and heavy ruff of a dog. A huge dog.

Mindy clutched Luke's arm.

The dog's ears were flattened, the lips slightly curled back. The low-pitched noise came from its throat. If they ran, the dog might chase them. Even on his bike Luke couldn't beat their own dogs. He'd never get away carrying Mindy.

“Get your lunch,” he muttered, trying desperately to remember everything Bruno had taught him about dog pack leaders.

Mindy's grip on his arm was about to draw blood.

“Let go of me.” Luke moved slowly, keeping his eyes on the dog's ears. The important thing was not to act threatening. He pulled Mindy's backpack toward him, reached inside and fumbled with her lunch box. The dog glued its eyes on him, poised.

“Hungry, boy?” Luke said, but his voice squeaked. He swallowed hard. He could not let it know he was terrified.

But dogs always knew.

He unwrapped Mindy's sandwich, held it out. The dog's nose quivered. Luke dropped the sandwich half a metre away.

Something massive shot out of the grass and straight back in again. The wind rushed around the grasses. The sandwich had vanished. The dog was back in the grass, looking at them, ears pricked.

Luke gulped. The dog was the size of a pony. It could probably swallow Mindy whole. He unwrapped her crackers, and tossed them, shaking, to the dog.

The dog caught one, came right out of the grass and nosed around until it had eaten every last cracker. Then it looked at Luke again.

“No more, boy.” It was definitely a male. Luke slowly stood up and turned side-on. The dog backed away, flattening into the grass with a growl. The fur on his neck rose.

Luke picked up the bike slowly. He kept his eyes fixed on the dog's feet and said to Mindy, “Hop on. Leave the bags. Don't look at his eyes.”

Mindy clambered onto the handlebars.

The dog stood up and that watchful expression came back into his eyes. The tan and black coat was matted and even the thick fur couldn’t hide his bones sticking out.

Just like Bruno, when they'd first seen him.

Luke walked the bike slowly away, half watching the dog still staring at him.

Then it blinked and looked away.

Now.

He shoved down on the pedals and took off. Every nerve in his body shrieked at him to flee.

Too fast. The dog would think he was panicking. The moment he panicked he'd turn into prey.

Mindy twisted.

“Keep still,” he said, deliberately slowing down.

“It's following us.”

“Don't look back,” he said, and risked a glance over his shoulder. The dog was keeping pace ten metres behind, eyes still fixed on him.

Just like Bruno.

Luke took a fresh grip on the handlebars and pedalled steadily.

Don't speed up. Do not speed up.

One kilometre to go and the only gates ahead were open. The dog kept a respectful ten metres behind.

He is not Bruno, Luke told himself. They pressed on down the track beside the creek, past their own house on the other side. If only they could fly straight over the creek and up to the house.

“Mum's yelling at us,” said Mindy.

She was, too. So were their own dogs. The frenzied welcome home barking didn't usually start up until he was on the driveway. Mum was racing across the yard from the clothesline, waving her hands at them.

“She's trying to stop us,” Mindy said.

“Can't stop.” If they stopped they'd have to confront the dog again. Best to keep a steady pace. Luke put his head down and forced his bike on. He took the corner as fast as he dared, then rattled over the footbridge. One last corner and into their driveway.

The farm dogs were going ballistic.

Thirty metres of straight and then the cattle grid.

The grid. He'd forgotten about the grid. He'd never make it over the grid with Mindy on the bars.

The yard dogs shrieked. One of them was dashing so hard against his own chain he was choking.

“It's coming faster,” said Mindy, swivelling on the bars.

The dog behind them let out a deep-throated bark.

Terror flashed through Luke. He stood up on the pedals and shoved every last bit of strength down his legs.

Then the wheels hit the grid.

The jolting shook Luke to his skull. His vision blurred. Something in the shade beyond the grid flickered, something weird in all the sticks and bark.

Mindy screamed.

The dog behind roared.

The thing in the shade on the other side slithered and coiled: brown, silvery, supple as a rope.

Mum burst out the front door onto the verandah with a shotgun.

Luke's heart rocketed into his throat - and in that second two rules of his life collided. Never, ever approach a snake. And never, ever stop on the cattle grid.

He jammed on the brakes.

The bike stopped dead.

Mindy catapulted off the handlebars. Luke crashed down. Something inside his arm snapped.

A heavy rush of wind over his head. Shaggy tan belly blotted out the sky.

The dog landed in the yard; the snake whipped up and then dog and snake rolled over together in a whirl of dust. The dog regained his feet and shook the snake until it hung limp from his jaws.

Then pain flooded up Luke's arm and he sagged back onto the grid.

*

Luke sat on the verandah steps, six hours and one town trip later, leaning against Mum's knee. His solid white cast and sling glowed in the moonlight. The farm dogs were quiet.

The stray dog lay lifeless on the step at his side.

“He won’t make it,” the vet had said.

“Try,” Mum had said, leaning over the dog and locking eyes with the vet. “He’s still alive, isn’t he?”

“It’s not worth it.”

Mum looked straight at the vet. “I’m buying more than antivenom here.”

The vet’s eyes flickered toward Luke and back to Mum. Something crossed his face; a moment of understanding. He jabbed the needle deep into the dog’s skin, and Luke had known, without being told, that the injection was a waste of time. Perhaps Mum hadn’t known that.

“I wanted to keep him,” Luke said after a while. His fingers were still buried in the soft, matted fur. Still warm. Maybe he could feel a heartbeat.

Maybe it was only the pulse in his fingers.

Mum was silent. Luke waited for her to tell him all the things he expected her to say; things he didn't want to hear. He was lucky to be alive. The dog was only a stray. They'd get him a better dog.

The pain in his arm wasn't as bad as the pain in his throat.

“I'd have liked to keep him too.” Mum put her arm around his shoulders, and this time he didn’t pull away.

Then the dog opened his eyes.