long arms, ran out of the shop.
“What happened?”
The dog made her move.
While all human eyes were fixed on the crashed car, she dashed back across the street. Her paws were tough, and moving over the ice was easy. She jumped and, with her teeth, she pulled a parcel from the top of a straw basket. It was a gamble – but she knew immediately that she had chosen well. Her nose told her, and her tongue against the paper bag told her: she had grabbed meat.
She’d been noticed.
“Look!”
“The cheek!”
She had to escape. Her size was useful again. She dashed through legs. Hands tried to grab her, and feet tried to kick. Women slid, and the baker ran back inside to get his gun. The dog was tempted to stop, to devour the meat right there – she was so hungry. But she kept going. She was almost clear.
She didn’t see the net, or the man holding the net. She felt it land on her back, and she felt it tangling her feet, her paws. She didn’t know what it was. But she did know she’d been caught.
She ate the meat as quickly as she could. She was still eating, snarling, when she was lifted in the net and carried to the cage in the back of the truck.
She had heard dogs howl before – of course she had. All her life she’d heard angry, frightened dogs. But never so many, and never under a low roof.
It was dark in the dog pound. There were no windows. But she could still see the other cages and the dogs. They were fighting against the chains that held them to the walls. Pulling, trying to bite through the iron links. And howling.
She howled too, and pulled. She had been here, locked up, for five days and nights. But she didn’t give up. She wouldn’t. She wanted to feel the ice under her paws again. She wanted to feel the freezing air, and the snow. She wanted to get back to the streets of the city, her wilderness, her proper life.
She saw the door open before she heard it. The door became a crack of light that got slowly wider, followed by the protests of the rusting hinges.
Followed by the humans.
There were two of them. Two males. One of them she’d seen before, the one who came every day and hit the cage bars with his wooden club before he filled their water bowls. The dog had bitten him the first day, and she’d felt the club on her back.
The other human she hadn’t seen before.
She watched them walk slowly between the cages, examining each dog. They walked straight past the bigger dogs and the dark-furred dogs, and stopped in front of a cage that contained a small white-furred dog, like her.
The dog, a female, sat quietly in her cage, the only dog not howling.
“This one,” said the stranger.
The man with the club unlocked the cage and took out the white dog. She didn’t attack or pull at her chain.
They moved again, the humans. And stopped again, at another white-furred dog.
“And this one,” said the stranger.
Again, the man with the club removed the chosen dog from her cage.
Here was her chance, she thought. Here was escape. She fought the urge to howl, and to throw herself at the bars of the cage.
She sat – she made herself sit still.
The two men walked past all of the large dogs. Nearer – they came nearer. Sit still, she told herself. Be still, sit still.
They stood in front of the dog.
“And this one.”
“This one bites,” said the man with the wooden club.
The dog stood – and wagged her tail.
“Surely not,” said the stranger. “You must be mistaken, comrade.”
“As you wish, comrade,” said the man with the club.
“She is perfect,” said the stranger. “We want the quiet ones.”
The cold air felt like food. She stood on the back of the truck as it raced out of the city. The buildings became smaller, and fewer. There were fewer of the billboards and banners that the humans seemed to love – ‘Glory to the Workers’, ‘Together We Go Forward’. Then there were no buildings or banners. They had left the city.
The dog looked back the way the truck had come. The road was long and straight, and she could see the city at its end. Far away, but still there. It stood out, with its own dark cloud hanging above it. She would find her way back easily, when the time came.
For now, she had the air. It went to her lungs, but also to her stomach. It filled her up and made her feel alive, and alert. There were six other dogs in the cage, but she was the only one standing. The others had tried it but had given up, and surrendered to the shaking of the truck. They lay on the truck bed. They were all white-furred, all very small.
The dog stood over them. She would be the leader.
One of the other dogs looked up at her.
“You look at something?” she said.
The other dog looked away. Good. She didn’t want to fight – not now. But she would if she had to. She was tough. Like the other dogs. They had all survived on the city’s streets. She would have to be the toughest.
The truck swerved suddenly to the left. The dog almost toppled; she nearly fell on to the others. One of them snarled and snapped. The truck moved over a rough, pot-holed track. Soon she felt the truck slow down, then stop. She saw a huge grey building, as big as a city building, but alone. It was partly hidden by trees.
The driver climbed out and came round to the back of the truck, and the cage. This was the same male human who had selected the dogs in the pound. She had heard his name. Pavel.
She wagged her tail and she barked.
Pavel opened the cage.
“Come, dogs,” he said. “Come, furry comrades. Welcome to the Institute.”
He had gathered their seven leashes into one hand, and now he pulled gently. He coaxed them to the edge of the truck bed until they had to jump.
The standing dog went first.
“Good dog.”
The others followed. Pavel patted their backs as they gathered around his feet. She stopped herself; she didn’t bite his hand. One of the other dogs, however, snapped at the human’s wrist. He cried out, shocked.
“Stupid dog!”
He examined his wrist.
