Dragon's Call & Other Stories of Magic and Mystery

The Rescue

­I went into the woods that day because of the dog. Normally,I avoid the forest paths because of ticks. I've had one case ofLyme's disease and that was one too many for me, so I prefer tostick to the well-trampled path that runs around the edge of the openmeadow. I leave the shadowed, tick-infested wood paths to braver,more fool-hardy souls. After all, what's the point of walking formy health if I'm simultaneously courting another bout of Lyme's.I'd rather face a vampire, to be honest, because I'm a lot lessafraid of fictional monsters than tiny little blood-sucking bugs thatactually exist.

There I was, speed-walking along the sunny, relatively bug-freepath when I saw him. The dog was no more than fifteen-twenty poundsand had big, soulful eyes half-hidden by scraggly gray-brown fur,fuzzy ears that tipped to the side, and a little goat beard hangingfrom his pointed chin. I don't know who his parents were, but theyweren't very well connected, if you know what I mean. Mutt doesn'teven begin to describe this little guy, I couldn't even begin toguess what breeds had gone into his background, but there wasdefinitely a little terrier, a bit of beagle, and maybe a touch ofhyena. He was so frickin' ugly, he was cute. I looked around forhis people, but we had the path to ourselves. He stood still as Idrew near, watching me, head up and ears tilted forward.

"Hey, buddy, what are you doing out here? You all alone, orwhat?" I slowed and approached with a friendly chirp to my voice.As a single woman in her thirties I had barely avoided crazy cat ladystatus by collecting a house full of dogs instead, and I could neverpass by a stray without at least trying a rescue. My ex used to sayI'd rescue a cardboard box on the side of the road if I thought itlooked like a stray. Which isn't even fair, there was just that onetime, and it was dark, I thought it was a golden retriever. I onlytook it home because cleaning up the roads is everyone'sresponsibility. I wasn't going to keep it, for heaven's sake.

The dog shied at my approach, ducking away and backing up a step.I could see that he was a male and wasn't wearing a collar. Isearched my pockets for stray dog treats, but I had stopped for aquick walk on the way home from work, and my work slacks were free ofliver snaps or other yummy goodies. I crouched down and extended myright hand, anyway, making encouraging noises to the dog.

"Come here, baby, we'll get you something to eat. Are youhungry, big guy? How about a cookie, want a cookie?"

The dog tilted his head and looked at me for a long moment, thenhe suddenly turned his head and alerted on something I couldn'tdetect in the dark woods behind him. He glanced back at me and for amoment, I thought he would trust me, but he seemed to make up hismind and turned away and darted into the forest, almost invisible inthe shadows.

I sighed and followed, trying not to spook him, moving just fastenough to keep him in sight. I couldn't just leave him at the mercyof all of those ticks, now could I?

Fortunately, the dog didn't dart into the underbrush or gallopalong the path, instead he trotted ahead of me, just out of reach.After a couple of attempts to get him to stop and return to thesunlight with me, I gave up and followed and we settled into an easypace. I'll say one thing for the forest paths, they're a lotcooler than the sunny meadow. I tried not to shudder every time Ibrushed up against a bush or tree, doing my best not to picture ticksfalling into my hair or on my clothes. I was beginning to think thatmaybe I should talk to someone about this fear of ticks, but come on,those things are nasty. On the plus side, I was getting a goodworkout, as the dog set a faster pace than I would have chosen on myown.

I was just thinking that maybe I should try falling on the ground,with a fake injury and a cry of distress, in an effort to get thedog's sympathy - and a brief rest - when the dog veered off thepath and headed into the underbrush.

"Are you kidding me?" I called out. "Do you know how manyticks there are in those bushes?"

Unmoved by my complaint, the dog spared me only one glance overhis shoulder before pushing his way into the dense growth.

"You're an idiot," I told myself. "You've got five dogsat home already, do you really need one more to worry about? Maybehe's not even lost, maybe he lives near here."

I ignored the insult and the rationalization - knowing it washopeless. Smarter people than me have tried to talk sense into meabout dog rescue, I surely wasn't going to convince myself with astray wandering loose right in front of me.

I followed the dog into the bushes, biting back curses andflinching away from the thorniest branches. I don't think it was myimagination that the dog slowed as I fought my way through behindhim. He never got far ahead of me and I only lost sight of him formoments at a time. Eventually, we broke through into another path andthe dog turned and headed deeper into the woods, unless I had gottenturned around, which was entirely possible.

We went on this way for more than twenty minutes and I wasbeginning to wonder how deep these woods went, when the dog sped upand disappeared around a turn in the path.

"Hey now! No fair, I've come this far, don't disappear on menow!" I pushed my pace and jogged after him, feeling the burn in mycalves from the exercise.

I rounded the corner and found the dog bouncing happily around aman sitting with his back against a tree.

"Hi?" I said, making it a question. "Are you okay?"

The man ducked away from the small dog's tongue. "That'senough, Brutus, enough." He looked up at me as the dog settled downat his side. "Not so much, no. I think I've got a broken leg,actually."

"I think that qualifies as not so good," I said, pulling outmy phone. "Have you called for help?"

"No, I left mine off the charger and the battery died," theman said. He looked to be around my age, maybe a few years older,with just a touch of gray at the temples. It looked good on him,giving him a kind of George Clooney look.

"Is this your dog?" I asked, as I waited for 911 to pick up.

The stranger nodded and scratched behind the small dog's ears asI talked to the operator. With the help of the injured man, I wasable to give decent directions to our location and ended the callafter being reassured that someone would come to help.

"So, did you send him for help or was that his idea?" I asked,settling myself on the ground near the injured man. I was wishing Ihad taken at least a basic first aid course, but other than a littleCPR, I'm hopeless with that stuff. I thought the least I could dowas distract him while we waited for the EMTs. "I'm June, by theway.

"Simon," he said, "and this is Brutus. It was all his idea.I don't know what happened to his leash and collar. He took offsoon after I fell, dragging it behind him. I was terrified the leashwould get caught on something out there in the woods, and maybe itdid and that's why he slipped out of the collar. Unless you removedit?"

"Not me, he wouldn't let me that close. He was missing thecollar when I met him out on the meadow path. We were just gettingacquainted when he seemed to want me to follow him, so here I am."

"Hero of the day, aren't you, Brutus," Simon asked the dog,tickling under his chin.

"Hey now, I braved an entire forest full of ticks to rescueyou," I said, indignant.

"You'll have to share the credit, then," Simon said withan easy laugh and I agreed.

We chatted until the EMTs arrived and I learned that Simon was aprofessor at the local college, unmarried, and a nut for ugly mutts.

Our first date was a week later, and we're going to introduceBrutus to my pack tonight. If all goes well, this may be the bestrescue ever.

The only question is, who rescued whom?