by

Jim Boy O. Campiche

Belly must be filled.

                             -Homer

Dogs love the smell of cough drops.

                                               -Derek Platt

1. False Start

     Once, not long ago, in a town called Pootersville, there lived a man named Alvin Egg. He spent all his spare time reading books and hoped, in fact, to one day write a book of his own.

     Alvin lived in a big white house on First Street, surrounded by tall walnut trees and a thick blackberry bush. Whenever he wanted a snack, he just had to go out on the sidewalk. Such a person was Alvin Egg.

     For the present, that is all that the reader needs to know about Alvin Egg. You are now asked to turn your attention to a host of other characters. Do not dwell on Alvin; but on the other hand, do not forget him, either --- for he will play an important part in the plot later.

2. Nobody Home

     Boz, the collie, sat upon the cold front porch. The time was a little after four in the morning. Boz had been patrolling the neighborhood for stray cats or overturned garbage cans since midnight. The thick dew of dawn dampened the dog's shaggy coat. Boz wanted indoors. He was cold and hungry.

     Lights shone from the living room windows, where Boz imagined his Master sitting up still, staring at books. The thought of the warm rug before the burning stove or, better yet, sneaking onto the couch pervaded the collie's consciousness. Yet no amount of scratching, whining, or even barking at the door drew any response from the usually attentive human. This worried Boz.

     Only Ted, the puppy, paid any attention to Boz's persistent appeals. Ted placed his fuzzy black face against the inside of the door and sniffed softly. "Who is there?" he called, sleepily.

     "It is I," Boz replied, in dog language.

     "Who?" Ted asked.

     "It's Boz."

     "Who?" Ted implored, once more. Due to his young age, he had a very limited vocabulary.

     "I'm Boz!" the elder dog barked impatiently. "Don't you remember? I live here! Where is my Master?"

     "Who?" Ted repeated.

     "Oh, my goodness!" Boz exclaimed in exasperation. How, he wondered, could Ted be so dumb? Although by nature a tolerant animal, Boz emitted a low growl.

     Alone on the porch, Boz thought back to his own puppyhood. At a very early age he had been abandoned. Although only vaguely able to remember his parents and infancy, Boz clearly recalled the lucky day his Master came into his life. It was a rainy day in February; Boz, a mere puppy, was serving time in a cold, crowded dog pound. He had been there three long days when a friendly young man with curly brown hair stepped up to his cage to choose him. The happy puppy traveled home in a warm canvas knapsack which, to this day, remained one of the dog's favorite scents.

     Boz lifted his head quizzically. At the time of the rescue, he had been about Ted's age. Boz wondered, there-fore, if he was once as silly a puppy as Ted.

     Another thought slowly dawned on the dog. Just a little over a week ago, Ted had arrived home in the Master's canvas knapsack. The new arrival had soon accumulated two new food bowls, a box to sleep in, and even an old blanket - just like Boz had been given when he was young. This meant something, but Boz could not determine what. In fact, he could not quite remember what he was thinking about in the first place.

     "Heck," the elder dog thought. "I outgrew my blanket years ago."

3. Blue

     Suddenly, like a blast from a cannon, two cats shot from behind the house. Their claws scrambling madly, they made for the protection of the porch - for chasing them was a loudly barking dog.

     The cats, whose names were Simon and Toob, darted between the forsythia bush and the blue bicycle into a cat-sized hole beneath the steps. This did not stop the dog, who was no larger than a fox, from jumping up and down on the sidewalk like a Mexican jumping bean.

     Boz stared at the stranger with some surprise. "Who are you?" the collie inquired.

     "I'm Blue!" the little dog barked. Then he turned a somersault in the air. That a dog with such short legs could move them so fast amazed Boz.

     "You're not Blue," the collie observed logically. "You're chestnut."

     Then the collie came over and they sniffed each other. Boz liked Blue right away, and Blue liked Boz, too. Dogs form friendships a little faster than people do, don't they?

     "What do you want to do, Boz?" Blue asked. "Want to chase some cats?"

     Under the front porch steps, Simon and Toob stirred uneasily.

     "I don't think so, Blue," the collie said. "I have to check something..." The loyal collie dutifully scratched at the front door again. Why wouldn't his Master answer?

4. The Getaway

     Inside the house, Ted felt very hungry. He glanced from his box, where he had been sleeping, into the next room, where his feeding bowls stood. The black puppy climbed from his warm bed and padded to the kitchen. His dark body moved like a shadow through the house.

     Ted stooped over his water bowl, lapping the liquid with his soft pink tongue. It was a slow way to get a drink. Ted admired the way his Master drank water, from a tin cup, in huge gulps.

     Unfortunately, his food bowl now stood empty. Ted put his fuzzy little face completely inside the yellow bowl, sniffing for a few fragments of last night's dinner. The young dog did not know it, but a scrap of ham clung to the fur right above his eyebrow when he emerged.

     The puppy's ears did not quite match; one pointed skyward, the other flopped down against his face. But at the sound of voices from the front porch, both ears stood directly on top of Ted's head. He moved into the foyer to hear better.

     "Well, it makes me nervous," said the voice of Boz, Ted's protective pal.

     "Nothin' to worry about..." another animal voice answered. Although Ted had never heard this dog's voice before, he did not seem at all curious to identify the owner of the indifferent drawl. He did not, in fact, consider the conversation concerned him at all. With a shrug of the shoulders, Ted slumped down beside the front door to sleep.

     Outside, Boz paced the front porch in earnest. "Doggone it, Blue! I sense danger! It smells like trouble!"

     Blue gazed admiringly at Boz's long nose. His hairy tail curved around like a question mark. "It's okay, Boz. I'll help you!" he promised.

     The collie stopped frowning. He was sure glad Blue came along.

     Boz ran to the door and scratched loudly with his paw. Then he kicked it four times with his hind legs. Blue hurled his body against the hard barricade, unsuccessfully, time after time. The door would not budge. The two dogs even tried biting it. Ted, resting on the other side, moved back to the living room, where it was less noisy.

     "Why is it so important to get inside?" Blue finally asked. He stood panting from his efforts.

     "We must get inside to hunt for clues," Boz explained. "Besides, I can't very well leave the puppy locked up."

     "There is a puppy inside?" Blue asked, aghast.

     "My Master brought him home last week," Boz related. "He calls the puppy Ted."

     "Listen, we can't have an infant on this mission," Blue grumbled, sounding like an army sergeant. "That would only slow us down."

     "I'm sorry, Blue," Boz said firmly, "but I have no choice. My Master would expect me to protect the puppy. Left alone, Ted would parish. Besides, he may prove helpful to us at some future time."

     Once again both dogs threw themselves at the door. It jiggled and jiggled but the latch would not give. Boz glared at the door knob dubiously. He tried to hold the fixture between his jaws, but the porcelain hurt his teeth.

     "We need human hands to turn the knob," the collie said, sitting down.

     Blue bristled his fur . "Leave it to me," he said and, turning, scampered down the sidewalk.

     While he was alone for a moment Boz could have made a plan. Or he might have felt guilty for leaving the house unattended while he roamed the neighborhood, looking in trash cans. But Boz was a dog, so he did neither of those things. He patrolled the porch silently.

     Then the still night was shattered by barking and the course curses of a human being! The sounds grew louder and closer until, like a little whirlwind, Blue led the town dog catcher, of all people, into the front yard!

     The dog catcher was chasing Blue with a long net. Blue kept dodging from the man, moving behind him, and barking insults. "You ninny! You klutzy clown! You can't catch meeeeee!!!" he taunted.

     Boz dashed from his post to help. "Aw, roo-roo-roo!" he shouted, standing the fur on his back in a menacing manner.

     Showing their fangs, the dogs chased the dog catcher three times around a tree; but the dog catcher, who thought he was being very clever, suddenly turned around and started chasing the dogs in the opposite direction. That is exactly what the two dogs planned. They led the angry man onto the porch, then turned and, pinning him against the door, began to tear his pants leg.

     "Hey!" the man screamed, pounding on the front door. "Is anybody in there? Call your dogs off me!"

     The poor, alarmed human pounded frantically on the front door of the house; then, as the dogs growled louder, he grasped the door knob desperately and pushed the door open.

     Boz bounded quickly inside. He dashed from room to room, finding his Master in none of them. He did see, however, the signs of a hasty departure: an upturned chair, a single sock hanging from one drawer, an untouched piece of cinnamon toast (which Boz hastily swallowed), and the most prized of his Master's possessions, which he never left the house without tying to his wrist, was ticking on an end table.

     While Boz roused Ted, Blue valiantly held the dog catcher in the foyer. He clamped his teeth into the thick material of the man's trousers, and tugged mercilessly.

     "Stop that!" wailed the miserable man. Then, remembering his job, the dog catcher slammed shut the door and advanced on Blue with his net.

     Boz was urging Ted to hurry. The groggy puppy did not want to leave his warm box and blanket. "Hurry!" Boz insisted. "We must flee!"

     He pushed Ted toward the foyer, but their way was blocked. The dog catcher was screaming and yelling and knocking things down. Blue bounded all about, but there clearly seemed no way to escape. The dog catcher had them trapped in the house.

     The human, his net hovering, herded the dogs toward the corner. Ted whimpered piteously. Then, like a quick brown fox, Blue dashed past the dog catcher and, with a determined effort, threw himself at the double window in the foyer. The dog hit the glass with a smack, but it did not break - the windows parted, opened, and Blue flew through to safety.

     "Come on, Boz!" he called. "It's your only chance!"

     Boz couldn't leave the puppy. He stooped and, clutching the nape of Ted's neck in his teeth, rushed directly at the dog catcher. The powerful collie pushed the man down and launched out the window after Blue.

     Electric lights came on in all the nearby houses. Many people ran outside to see what the commotion was. The foyer windows of Alvin Egg's house stood open, swinging in the morning wind - but Boz, Blue, and Ted were gone.

5. In The Oak Grove

     The dogs ran down Davis Street, which was lined with cypress trees. It was not quite dawn. Blue ran far ahead of the other two dogs, his short legs pumping as fast as the pistons of a hot rod, and his little tufted tail bobbing above his body like a cheerleader's pompom.

     Boz lagged behind, urging Ted to hurry. The dowdy black puppy was experiencing reservations. "I don't want to go," he whined, stopping to examine a loose tree limb which had blown onto the sidewalk overnight.

     "Hurry, Ted!" Boz barked. "This is no time to dawdle."

     As they approached the point where Davis Street was crossed by a concrete bridge, Blue ran back to report. Very silently, Blue indicated up the hill on the other side of the bridge - there stood the city dog catcher's yellow van. Boz and Blue stepped back in the shadow of a telephone pole, but Ted continued doggedly down the sidewalk, completely open to view, and oblivious to peril.

     The dog catcher saw Ted and started his engine. Blue ran after the puppy. "This way, stupid!" he said, harshly.

     Realizing the danger at last, Ted followed the older dogs up a side street that led to the public grade school. They ran across the deserted playground, halting near the monkey bars.

     "Where do we go now?" Blue asked.

     "Follow me," Boz indicated. He led his friends behind a huge spruce tree where a path led down an ivy-covered staircase. Boz hurled himself gracefully down the steep steps, but Ted stopped on top.

     "I'm scared!" he cried.

     "Hurry up, you!" Blue snarled. He gave Ted a shove and the pudgy puppy rolled down the long stairway; luckily the thick ivy softened his fall. In fact, Ted tumbled harmlessly to a stop, got up giggling, and obediently followed Boz.

     Boz had led them deep into a forest of oak trees. The ground lay littered with acorns. There were no paved paths in this part of town, and the dog catcher seldom left his automobile. Boz knew they were safe there. He sat down in some tall grass and carefully licked his paws.

     Blue sat down beside him. "This is a pretty place," he declared, viewing his surroundings.

     "This oak grove is a favorite place of mine," Boz replied. "My Master brings me here to chase sticks. "

     At the mention of his Master, however, Boz remembered the matter at hand. "We have got to make some plans," he said, soberly.

     "What for?" asked Blue, who was rolling on his back in a pile of dry leaves. "I never make plans."

     "Then how do you know where you are going?" Boz asked.

     "Who said I was going anywhere?" Blue retorted, touchily.

     "We have to take a direction, at least," Boz declared.

     "What's a 'direction'?" asked Ted, who was unfamiliar with words of more than two syllables.

     Blue snorted loudly. "Why do we have to take this tenderfoot along?" he insisted, turning on Ted. "He will just goof things up. He can't even handle stairs by himself."

     "I can, too!" Ted bleated.

     "You can not!" Blue snarled.

     Boz realized he had better show some authority. Time was slipping away.

     It was dawn. The sun's first few rays filtered through the trees, warming the dogs. All three animals turned in the direction of the sunrise. That's when they decided in which direction they would proceed.

     The collie stood and stretched. He led his friends to a water hole underneath a wooden footbridge for a cool drink of water. Still smacking their lips, the dogs set off from the oak grove. Boz was all alert, Blue was all excited, and Ted... well, Ted was thinking with fondness of last night's dinner.

6. The String Of Sausage

     After carefully crossing town, the three dogs found themselves in the industrial section of Pootersville. Unlike the tree lined lanes of Boz's neighborhood, here only tall smoke stacks poked into the sky, from noisy factories below. Activity was everywhere. Large muddy trucks rumbled down the street, stacked high with supplies. Railroad tracks crossed the sidewalk every twenty yards or so, and large, slow-moving trains clattered by, as loud as a cyclone.

     "Where are we?" Ted asked anxiously. He felt scared.

     So did Boz, but he tried not to show it. The older dog had seen the industrial area before, on walks with his Master. But they had always moved by the factories quickly, to get to quieter, less messy environments.

     Blue, on the other hand, seemed quite at home amid the tumult and din of machinery. He walked perkily along, sniffing the air independently. "This is my kind of place," he said.

     "Do you mean you like it here?" Ted asked incredulously.

     Boz nudged the puppy with his long nose. "Mind your manners," he indicated.

     Blue laughed harshly. "You dumb puppy! You have had it so easy all your life - you don't know what real living is! Let me tell you. Travel makes you smart. Neither of you know the pleasure of hopping a freight train, and waking up in a different place the next morning."

     Boz looked at Blue admiringly. It amazed him that the frisky red dog, although barely larger than a breadbox, could do so many things. "Have you ridden a lot of trains?" inquired Boz.

     "Are you kidding?" Blue bragged. "I know more about trains than most engineers. In fact..."

     Blue stopped speaking in mid-sentence. His nose detected food.

     They stood before a large fenced in area, covered with rows and rows of parked cars. Beyond them stood the biggest building the animals had ever seen. It loomed before them like a monster, and all the people passing through it's single massive door seemed to be swallowed. (Well, it seemed that way to the dogs, anyway!)

     Had the dogs been able to read, they would have known from the big billboard over the building that this was a sausage factory. The dogs did not need to read, however, to know this fact. The enticing aroma of cooking meat told the dogs exactly where they stood.

     "That smells good," Ted said, longingly.

     Boz licked his lips. "We must continue with our mission," he dictated.

     "Oh, come on!" objected Blue. "We have to eat, don't we?"

     Boz had to admit, he felt hungry as well. "All right," he agreed, against his better judgment. "Let's move a little closer."

     The dogs ran toward the shelter of some parked cars. Boz and Blue's eyes shone excitedly as they crouched to make plans. Ted's eyes, on the other hand, had the glossy look of a young child's at Christmas. While the older dogs disputed over the safest way to approach the factory, the spellbound puppy wandered drunkenly forward. Before either Boz or Blue could stop him, Ted stepped directly through the main entrance of the sausage factory!

     Blue instantly lost his temper. "That does it!" he cried. "I warned you that the little ninny would be nothing but trouble. Now he's going to spoil our chance of sneaking any wieners!"

     "Not so fast, Blue," Boz warned. "Ted may be in trouble!"

     They moved up a few rows of cars to a place where they could see inside the factory without being seen themselves. But what they saw surprised them.

     Inside, several men were gathered around the little black puppy, patting his head, feeding him meat scraps, and smiling. The humans had obviously been affected by the puppy's cuteness.

     Boz shook his shaggy fur and sat down. He felt pleased that Ted was safe. But Blue bristled with anger. "Why, that little upstart," he muttered. "He's stealing the show!"

     Blue marched indignantly into the factory, barking protests at the top of his lungs. "You fellows are making a big error!" he exclaimed. "Don't waste your attention on him - I'm the real star here!" Blue stood on his hind legs and turned a backward somersault to prove it. "I will accept food! he hinted"

     Unfortunately, the factory workers did not understand dog language, and mistaking Blue's demonstration for the ravings of a mad dog, actually began to chase him. Many more employees left their posts to pursue the pest.

     Meanwhile, Boz had herded Ted away from the men. He led the pup out in the parking lot, and directed him to lie still behind an old car. Ted's black fur was dotted with meat bits.

     "Tidy yourself up, Ted," the collie commanded. Sometimes Boz wished the puppy would act a little more mature.

     Inside the sausage factory, all production had stopped as more and more employees joined the chase to block Blue's path. The sound of the angry workers, combined with the factory machinery and the dog's barking, was so loud that it registered 6.8 on the Richter scale at a nearby university.

     Blue was chased around and around the factory floor, dodging behind piles of packing crates, and leaping over expensive pieces of machinery. Blue eluded his pursuers for a good five minutes but finally, running up a pile of cardboard boxes, found himself cornered - with no means of escape!

     The humans, who were all quite tired, moved in on the cornered canine. Just then, Blue saw a long string of sausage dangling from a meat hook high above his head. He zoomed straight up, caught the wieners in his mouth, and swung, Tarzan style, across the factory. The people yelled angrily as he swept out the door, still trailing the tube sausage string!

     His victory was short lived. Parked in the middle of the gate, blocking their escape, was the yellow DOG CONTROL van, and the city dog catcher came clambering from the cab to capture them.

     The dogs quickly regrouped. The odds were against them. They could hear the people's flat feet slapping the pavement nearby.

     "Run for it!" Blue barked.

     Trailing the sausage string, the dogs ran deep into the maze of parked cars. They scooted from car to car, sometimes losing their attackers, while other times running right into them again. The three dogs were greatly outnumbered, however, and were eventually cornered by the humans.

     Snarling menacingly, Boz backed his friends behind him. The hair on his back stood straight up. The infuriated factory workers crowded forward, poking sticks and jeering. Then, as if that weren't bad enough, the city dog catcher strode forward, his net raised triumphantly to capture the canines.

     At precisely that moment a loud, low sound, similar to a fog horn, or a thousand cows mooing, boomed across the parking lot. Everyone turned to see. The sound came from a big old freight train, whose head light shone on the dog catcher's van, which had foolishly been parked in the middle of the railroad tracks!

     Trembling violently, as pale as a ghost, the dog catcher dropped his net on the ground and, fumbling frantically for his keys, ran towards his truck. He barely got the machine in gear and safely over the tracks before the long freight train cut him off from view.

     The dogs were quick to seize the opportunity to escape. Still clutching the chain of wieners, Blue skillfully jumped into the open door of one of the box cars on the passing freight train. Equally as graceful, the collie joined him there. But Ted, whose body was not as conditioned, could not keep up. Both dogs heard his pitiful cries beside them, and rushed to the door. The puppy, although trying hard, lagged a few paces behind them, and seemed to be slowing.

     "I have to go get him!" Boz whined, above the clatter of the train. "I can't leave Ted behind!"

     "Hold on!" Blue barked. He lowered the long string of sausages over the edge of the box car; smelling them, Ted began running faster. Ted, who was always hungry, caught up with the sausage, and eating his way, link by link, scrambled safely onto the freight car.

     Although Ted appreciated the assistance, Blue didn't care to be thanked. "Leave me alone, Ted," he growled.

     "Blue, you were both brave and generous," Boz said.

     "That's not going to get my sausage back!" Blue bitterly complained.

     Ted moved to the back of the boxcar, away from the other dog's sight. He felt bad for messing up Blue's plans. A tear of regret trickled from the puppy's short nose to the cold floor boards below.

     But soon Ted forgot about feeling sorry and sad for himself, and started sniffing the stacks of sacks packed in back of the car. Ted discovered that the refrigerated box car which the dogs had chosen was loaded with T-bone steaks!

     All three animals had a nice big supper before arranging themselves to sleep. The train carried them East, across Oregon, as they slept. And although the box car was cold, the dogs liked it that way.

7. Meanwhile

     Simon, the black cat, appeared from under the front porch steps where, only hours earlier, a stray dog had chased her. Simon did not like to be chased. She was a very sensitive cat.

     An observant reader might now be asking: why is a female cat named Simon? The truth of the matter is that her Master, Alvin Egg, mistook Simon for a male cat throughout her childhood; only after her first litter of kittens did the human realize his error, but by that time it was too late to change the cat's name. So Simon her name remained.

     Simon moved gracefully up the stairs to the door of the house, which hung open. She stretched herself, as was her habit, before entering. When all but her long, twitching tail had slipped inside, Simon stopped, and sniffed carefully. Then she backed slowly out the door and sat down on the porch.

     The bright, mid-morning sun made the cat blink. She licked a paw and, wiping it delicately across her nose, calmly surveyed the scene. Her short fur was as dark and shiny as a panthers. "You can come out now," the black cat called quietly.

     She was speaking to her young son, Toob.

     "Meow!" cried the kitten, thrusting his fuzzy gray and white face through a gap, no larger than a grapefruit, in the top step.

     This hole had, in fact, been formed by a baseball which was accidentally knocked off course in a neighborhood game. Toob, who was large for his age, easily outsized the hole; nonetheless, the stubborn kitten wanted to make his entrance through the tiny opening.

     Toob thrust mightily with his big back feet, and pushed his head and front legs through. His hair puffed out and made him look like an odd hunting trophy suspended between the steps.

     Simon said, "You silly kitty. You could get stuck."

     Which, unfortunately, turned out to be true. Toob was stranded with all four feet in the air, kicking and scrambling wildly. He meowed loudly for his mother. Instantly, she stood by her son's side.

     Simon licked Toob's trembling head. "Have no fear," she murmured. "I'll get you out."

     Simon slipped quickly behind a forsythia bush, where a secret entrance, known only to cats, led beneath the porch. The cat's eyes rapidly adjusted to the underground darkness, revealing her son's whereabouts.

     Toob's wildly waving legs and large bushy tail projected comically from one wall. Not that Simon was laughing. Cats never laugh in the face of discomfort.

     Simon was a superb mother. During her first three years of life the prolific black cat had given birth to no less than fifteen kittens, of every color and marking imaginable. After her last litter (which had been a particularly exhausting one), Simon's Master took her to the veterinarian, who fixed it so that she would not become pregnant again. The human considered this the responsible thing to do, but just to make sure the solitary cat shouldn't become lonely, Simon's Master allowed one kitten to stay when he gave the last litter new homes. Simon was glad of this.

     Of all her children, Toob was Simon's favorite. Perhaps the mother cat preferred the hardy gray and white youngster because his fancy face markings reminded her of a former boyfriend. Toob's father was a wild mountain lion who, lost one night, wandered into Pootersville and saw Simon sitting on the porch as straight and pretty as an Egyptian vase. For nine nights the mountain lion came to court Simon; but one night he was seen by men who hastily chased him away, never to return.

     Considering his heritage, and the fact that his mother never refused his demand for milk, one would not be surprised that Toob had developed into such a husky cat. It was also for this reason that his mother stood, proud but perplexed, by his wiggling rear end beneath the porch steps.

     "Toob, dear," she meowed. "Can you hear me?"

     "Yes, Mother," Toob's reply came, muffled from outside.

     "Can you feel me wrapping my tail around your foot, sweetheart?" the cat asked casually.

     "Uh huh," he replied.

     "Very well," said the mother cat. "I want you to imagine that it is actually the tentacle of a big slimy octopus..."

     "OH, NO!" Toob cried. "Not that!" And the poor frightened thing popped from the hole, bounced down the steps, rolled across the sidewalk, and stopped, upside down, at the base of a quince tree.

     His mother quickly appeared to console him. "Are you all right?" she asked, anxiously.

     Toob opened his eyes. His feet flopped automatically to the ground. He licked his paw and felt right side up.

     "There's a lesson to be learned here," Simon said, nuzzling her son. "Come over to the steps with me."

     Simon stood by the gap in the front porch steps and waited for Toob to dawdle over; as simple a thing as a gnat, or a dandelion blown by the wind was apt to distract the young cat's mind.

     "Son," she said, "pay attention to your whiskers! They serve an important function." She patted the thick black hairs projecting from her cheeks for emphasis. "Every cat knows how wide they are by the width of their own whiskers. If you had paid attention to your whiskers, you would have known never to enter that small hole."

     To demonstrate, Simon poked her nose in the hole where Toob had been held. "See, it bends my whiskers - even if I were in a hurry I would know not to enter a space my whiskers wouldn't clear."

     "Oh, wow!" Toob exclaimed, stroking his long gray whiskers. "I always wondered what these are for."

     "Now you know," Simon replied. She was proud of her teaching methods.

     Toob laid down on the porch. He was feeling a little drowsy, and hungry. The kitten meowed in a special way.

     Simon settled down beside him. Toob began to purr as his mother's milk filled him. His bright green eyes, exactly the color of his mother's, slowly began to close. Soon he stopped feeding and slipped, still purring, off to sleep.

     Simon did not slumber. She remained awake, her senses on alert. Where, she wondered, was her Master? She wished the dogs had left some food; Toob would be hungry when he awoke.

     Simon stood and stretched, then scratched her left ear with her right hind foot. She shifted her weight and, folding her feet beneath her, lapsed into a trance of purring. Her small face gently lowered until her chin nestled in her warm chest hair. Slowly her large green eyes closed. Although it looked like she slept, Simon remained aware of everything occurring around her. Mother cats seldom sleep. They merely rest.

8. Down The Railroad Tracks

     When Boz woke up, he could not believe the change in the scenery. By now, the train had traveled 150 miles due east, carrying the dogs far from Pootersville. Accustomed, as he was, to the tree lined streets and the bustling orderliness of a small town, Boz was confronted with a landscape as different to him as the Moon would seem to you.

     They were moving down a wide valley formed by the Columbia River; the sun sparkled on the water like Christmas tree glitter. Huge hills rose from either bank, but unlike the tree-covered rolling hills of Boz's homeland, these mountains were not green but brownish pink in color and, aside from a slight splattering of small, spindly shrubs, were bare of vegetation. Although surrounded by high mountains, the sky seemed to stretch so far above that Boz felt, for the first time in his life, the true meaning of the phrase, "wide open spaces". Boz was used to an urban landscape, where the sky always appeared slightly obscured by tall brick buildings, thick trees, and telephone poles.

     The collie's sensitive nose detected a difference in the smell of things. The air was warm and fresh and sweet, from the sage brush. Boz breathed deeply. The scenery seemed to roll past like a spectacular show of nature arranged especially for his own pleasure.

     Boz looked at his two companions, sleeping nearby. Blue lay on his side, the wind whipping through the dark auburn hair trimming his muscular body. Ted was curled up in a tight ball, his breath rising and falling to the rhythm of the train tracks. Suddenly, the puppy began to bark in his sleep.

     Blue was instantly on his four feet. He eyed the box car warily. But all he saw was Boz comforting the confused pup. Blue viewed the scene of the collie soothingly licking Ted's face with mixed feelings. Inwardly, he felt touched by the tender display of friendship, while an outward expression of disinterest was displayed.

     Still slightly stunned, the puppy sat on the boxcar floor. One long black ear stood straight up, the other jutted goonily at a ninety degree angle from his head.

     "Where am I?" he asked.

     "You're in your mommy's tummy!" Blue jeered sarcastically. "You haven't been born yet!"

     "Don't be cruel, Blue," Boz said, quietly. He turned to the puppy. "We are on a train, Ted. You just woke up from a nightmare."

     The black puppy blinked. "I dreamed I was falling! I was afraid I wouldn't wake up before I hit the ground!"

     Blue snorted scornfully. He was about to say something insulting, but Boz gave him a warning look.

     "Let's eat some breakfast," the collie suggested helpfully.

     The train was moving uphill, away from the cool river. The mountains ahead of them were very smooth and seemed to roll on like a continuous carpet. The constant sunshine had bleached the prairie in nice pale shades. There were no trees to obscure the sky, because there was no soil to support them; in the place of dirt and grass was gravel and brush.

     The air seemed lighter, as indeed it was - they were rising in altitude. Boz felt his ears pop as they moved up the mountains.

     "I'm thirsty!" Ted complained. His long pink tongue, hanging far below his chin, attested to this.

     "Have another steak," urged Boz, nudging one forward with his left front foot.

     "I think that's why I'm so thirsty in the first place," Ted said, burping loudly.

     Boz lowered his long nose sympathetically, but Blue could not tolerate the puppy's sign of weakness.

     "Grow up, Ted," Blue grumbled, despite the fact that he was perilously thirsty as well.

     "I want to go home!" Ted bleated. "Where is our Master?" he entreated, turning to Boz.

     The collie stood up and stretched; his body was long and strong. "Ted," he said, "you must remain calm."

     Blue sat down, grumpily. Boz realized that the group's morale was dipping dangerously low. The success of their mission depended, to a great extent, on teamwork. The collie sighed, and watched the scenery roll by.

     When Boz woke up, he instantly detected a difference in the air - it smelled of pine trees. Indeed, looking out the boxcar door, there was nothing but trees to be seen. While they were sleeping, the train carrying the canines crossed Oregon, Idaho, and continued through the thick forests of the state of Montana. The train tracks rattled and clattered constantly.

     "We should be stopping soon," Boz announced. "There will be water to drink at the next train station."

     Ted wagged his tail happily. He hoped the water would be cold.

     But Blue, who had been watching the scenery silently, knew they would have to depart well before the train stopped. He had hopped enough freight trains to know better than to ride right into the station where men might seize them for freeloading.

     "We've got to jump off here," Blue spoke, over his shoulder.

     Boz understood the command, but Ted balked.

     "Can't we wait a little longer?" he asked, sheepishly.

     Blue looked levelly at the puppy, turned, and jumped nimbly from the moving boxcar. Ted watched him land, running, down the sloping track bed. Blue's short legs moved so fast that they could hardly be seen at all.

     Ted turned to Boz for support. "You will do just fine," the collie told him, encouragingly. "Just keep your legs moving. I'll be right behind you."

     Ted took a deep breath, then hurled his body out the door. For an instant, he hung suspended, seemingly motionless in the air, while the whole world whirled noisily by him. Just for a second he felt as free as a bird - then the ground reached up and pulled his body, abruptly, down to earth.

     Although very scared, Ted forced his legs to move. He had to run frightfully fast to keep from falling. The puppy felt like a fly who had flown in the eye of a cyclone. Then things slowed and, bit by bit, he gained control of his footing. Seconds later Ted was stepping slowly, safely, and happily down the rocky track bed, while the long train whooshed loudly past.

     "You made it, Ted," Boz called proudly, coming up behind him.

     Ted wagged his tail proudly. He was very pleased with himself. He would show old Blue a thing or two! Then, smiling smugly, Ted stepped straight into a telegraph pole.

9. Toob Learns A Lesson

     A comforting clink stirred Simon. The milkman was advancing up the sidewalk, jiggling four bottles of fresh cream in a wire basket. Simon stood up and stretched seductively.

     The friendly milkman lowered his hand to pat the cat's head. He scratched behind Simon's ears and slapped her back affectionately. The cat responded by purring, which humans find irresistible.

     Simon's eyes did not stray from the cream containers; the beautiful bottles were as frosty and white as snow.

     Being such an early hour, and having so few to talk to, the milkman chose to address Simon like a real person: "Good morning, Simon. Lovely day! I see you are enjoying the sunrise..."

     He put a quart of cream on the porch and continued. "I guess only you and I really appreciate these early mornings. I notice 'Junior' is still asleep," he said, pointing to the back of the porch where Toob was slumbering in a box of old newspapers.

     Simon moved against the back of the man's long legs, toward the milk bottles. "Now, where is the note?" the milkman asked, scratching his chin. "Where are the empties?"

     Simon sniffed the cream container appreciatively.

     "I wonder if I should still deliver?" the milkman mused. "Alvin likes a lot of cream in his coffee. Of course, cats like cream, too!"

     The black cat nuzzled next to a cream bottle, making its falling seem unintentional.

     "Look out!" the milkman exclaimed.

     The bottle bounced down the stairs and broke, spilling cream on the sidewalk. Toob jumped joyfully forward to help lap it up.

     "What a mess," whined the milkman. "I haven't got time to clean this up."

     Both cats sat, serenely sipping the cream.

     "Well, thank you for coming to the rescue, kitties! I better be off!!!" he added, and hopped down the steps. The milkman was whistling when he went away.

     After breakfast, Simon and Toob had a serious talk. The mother cat explained to her son that they would have to leave their home to search after and rescue their Master. She had heard enough of the dogtalk to sufficiently sum up the situation. Simon considered herself far superior to the clumsy canines. "As far as I am concerned," she told Toob, "this rescue mission must not go to the dogs. The canines couldn't conceivably succeed. We will look for our Master ourselves."

     "Why don't we just find another master?" Toob suggested.

     Simon was offended by his impertinence. "Another Master, indeed!" she sniffed. "I am totally dedicated to that man. Why, he saved my life once! I was trapped in the top of a tall tree, and he shinnied up the trunk to help me down."

     Toob wasn't listening. He was studying a ladybug positioned on a plant within pouncing range.

     Intent on impressing the importance of their predicament on her son, the mother cat brushed the bug aside with the sweep of her tail. "Toob, listen to me! If we don't find our Master, we will starve," she said sternly. "There is no one to feed us."

     "Well, why didn't you say so?" Toob replied, bounding down the sidewalk. "Let's go!"

     Simon moved next to her son. Having never strayed far from her home, she possessed a limited scope of existence. "Let's look at the supermarket," she suggested.

     On the way to the store, Simon stalked nervously down the sidewalk, dodging from bush to tree to telephone pole, sure someone would stop them. Toob, to the contrary, experienced great delight in seeing some new territory. Everything was new to the kitten. The air smelled fair.

     Toob took off after a Monarch butterfly and chased the colorful insect across a lawn. A big brown hound slept soundly nearby, tethered to a house with a strong rope. The flying insect circled around, causing Toob to collide clumsily into the sleeping form.

     "Bow-wow! Bow-wow!" erupted the dog, scaring the kitten silly.

     Toob's fur fizzed out as if from static electricity. Every muscle tightened in his body. The inexperienced kitten was so alarmed that his whiskers shook. "Help!" he howled.

     Simon intervened instantly, challenging the canine with all her feline fury.

     "Bag of bones!" she hissed. "How dare you harm my son!"

     The dog stood very still, smiling condescendingly. He knew better than to challenge an angry mother cat, and wagged his tail in apology.

     "Sorry, Simon," said the dog. "I did not know this was your baby."

     "I'm not a baby!" Toob yowled.

     The dog patted Toob's shoulders with a big brown paw. "Heck," he said, "I remember when you were born. I barked the message all over the neighborhood."

     Trying to cover for her son's bad manners, Simon proceeded to formal introductions: "Toob, this is Elvis."

     "What kind of a name is Elvis?" Toob asked, impertinently.

     The dog stuck out his chest proudly. "I was named after a great singer. I sing all over town. I'm famous!"

     "Aw," Toob said, "you ain't nothing but a hound dog,"

     Elvis ignored this impertinence, turning to more important matters.

     "You've got to untie me!" he barked. "I want to join Boz too. All the dogs are barking about it. I want to follow too-ooo-ooooo!"

     The hounds voice turned to an unhappy howl.

     "Hey!" Simon shouted. "Don't fall to pieces! We'll get you loose."

     Cats are, in fact, quite dexterous with their paws. Elvis stretched out on the ground, and the cats went to work on his collar. Although unable to undo the buckle, the cats managed to wrestle the loose collar over Elvis' face. Toob stood on top of the hound's head to manage this.

     Elvis stood up and shook happily. He had been hearing reports barked about Boz, Blue, and Ted's journey and was anxious to pursue their path.

     "Which way are you going?" Simon asked.

     The hound pointed his tail East. "That-a-way!"

     "When you see Boz," Simon instructed, "tell him that Toob and I went West."

     "I will," the dog promised.

     "Say hello for me, too," Toob added, friendily.

     Off the hound bounded, leaving his leather leash laying limply on the lawn. Elvis brayed loudly, feeling his freedom.

     Simon and Toob continued to the grocery store. When they reached the highway Simon stopped, but Toob walked right on, taking no heed to the traffic. He had not seen a highway before. Cars had to swerve into the wrong lane to avoid hitting him. Other drivers honked their horns irritably.

     Toob's mother darted forward and dragged the confused kitten to safety. Their hearts beat as fast as bats' wings.

     Simon lectured her son sternly. "Watch where you are going! You can get flattened by an automobile," she warned him. "Always be careful around man-made machinery."

     "Don't worry," Toob said, making light of his carelessness. "We cats have nine lives, don't we?"

     Simon smiled scornfully at the superstitious youngster. "You just worry about this life," she suggested.

     Then the cats looked in both directions before safely crossing the street.

     The grocery store was a low brick building surrounded by parked cars. People came through the sliding front doors holding huge bags of food. Neon signs buzzed in the windows. Cash registers rang inside.

     The impulsive kitten wanted to go in the front door, but Simon showed him around back, by the loading dock, to the service entrance. Here she was often met by the friendly baldheaded butcher, who saved his best scraps for her. The butcher called Simon 'Black Beauty'.

     Today, however, the thick back door was closed, so Simon sat down to wait. She purred patiently, thinking of chicken livers.

     Toob took a look at some empty cases of pop bottles and decided to climb them. The pile was very wobbly and nearly toppled under his weight.

     "Watch your step, son," Simon called, warily.

     Suddenly, a strong smell struck Toob's nostrils. It was the fragrance of fresh fish. Toob leaped lightly to the ground and followed the enticing aroma.

     The scent emanated from a large wooden box in the back of a red pickup truck. Toob hopped onto the tailgate and took several deep, delicious sniffs. He noticed the top of the fish locker was wide open and wagged his tail eagerly. However, he did not notice the driver sitting inside the cab, smoking a pipe.

     Simon did. She rushed forward, crying, "Stop! Get away from there!"

     But the warning did no good. Toob was mesmerized by the fish smells. All good sense failed him. He moved like a zombie toward the box and climbed inside.

     Without warning, the truck engine roared to life. Before the cats could react, the machine lurched forward, slamming the lid of the fish locker shut.

     Toob was trapped! Simon ran around the truck bed, howling, but the driver could not hear anything over the loud noises the motor made.

     "Mother!" Toob cried. "Who turned out the lights?"

     With a grinding of gears, the truck pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway. Simon sat grimly upon the wooden box, the wind whistling through her hair as they picked up speed. The worried mother wondered whether her young son would ever learn not to act so impulsively.

10. Down By The Seaside

     The pickup truck sped west. Simon sat in back, straddling the wood fish locker containing her wayward son. The road took them up some mountains toward the Oregon coastline. As they neared the ocean, Simon noticed the scenery shift to a landscape dominated by pine trees. If she hadn't been so worried about Toob, the sight of big blooming rhododendrons and the smell of salty sea air would have been more exhilarating.

     Inside the cab, the driver took one hand off the steering wheel and opened his lunchbag. He had had a hard day and deserved a sandwich. The name of the man was Dan.

     Dan sighed and filled his mouth with egg salad sandwich. He had arisen at 4:00 a.m. to catch some salmon. The dedicated fisherman had stood in the cold breakers for four hours to collect his limit, then driven inland to sell them. For all his trouble, Dan had barely earned enough money to pay for the gasoline.

     Although already terribly tired, the hard-working man was faced with more hard chores at home. Dan was building his own boat right on the shore of the sea. An accomplished carpenter, Dan had lovingly labored over every square inch of the huge hull. When finished, the boat would take him far out in the Pacific Ocean, where the good fishing was. Every cent the fisherman earned went toward this project.

     However, Dan the fisherman did not waste much time worrying. He liked living by the seashore and enjoyed catching fish. Although the work was long and hard, he enjoyed the feeling of being self-employed. Dan dug in the lunchbag for a bright red apple to eat on the way along the tree lined highway.

     But just before he bit into the apple, Dan glanced into the rear view mirror and saw Simon sitting on the fish box, yowling madly. The man stopped the truck instantly and rushed back to the cat's aid.

     "Shiver my timbers!" the human exclaimed. "What are you doing in my truck bed?"

     Simon's nerves were shattered. The black cat crouched menacingly, showed her sharp teeth, and hissed. The mother meant for no one to tamper with Toob.

     "I won't hurt you," Dan assured the incensed animal. He thought the cat must be crazily craving the contents of the fish locker.

     "I'm sorry, Missus, but there's no food in there. The box is empty."

     Naturally, Toob took that opportunity to speak up. "Help me!" he hollered. His voice echoed in the hollow chest.

     Dan sprang the lid and let Toob free. Simon pushed past the man to examine her son.

     "Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle!" Dan exclaimed. "How did you get in there? Are you a catfish?"

     Toob went to the side of the truck and looked directly at the man. Then he put out one paw as if to shake hands.

     So Dan put the two cats in the cab for the remainder of the ride. He was worried where the animals came from and concerned for their comfort. Maybe the fisherman was a little hungry for company.

     Sitting on the seat by the window, Simon smelled the strong scent from the pine trees, and a totally unfamiliar aroma, completely different and stimulating, of the Pacific Ocean.

     Utterly unabashed, the kitten fiddled around the seat beside the driver. Toob put his big front feet on the dashboard and stared forward interestingly; then he fell back and took playful swipes at the fisherman's beard. Sometimes he would snake down by the floor petals, causing commotion in the cab.

     Dan had no food to give his passengers except a banana left from his lunch. He peeled the banana and squashed the fruit to the consistency of canned cat food, but neither Toob or Simon would eat.

     "Don't worry," Dan said. "There will be plenty to eat at home. I saved the biggest fish I caught this morning for supper!"

      Dan lived aboard the unfinished ship, supported by several stumps on the sandy shore. The vessel measured fifty two feet from bow to stern; yet very small when compared to the vast ocean. Two small masts jutted from the wooden deck. The cabin inside was decorated with highly polished woodwork and comfortable furniture. There was even a stove.

     In fact, the boat had everything but an engine. Dan, the fisherman, had not planned on it costing so much to construct the rest of the boat. The sailor was landlocked until he saved enough money to purchase a powerful motor.

     As soon as the cats arrived, they began to explore their quarters. They climbed all over and stuck their noses into everything. Simon found a good place to sleep.

     "Ahoy!" Dan yelped. "You can't sleep in my hammock!"

     After all three had a salmon supper, Dan took Simon and her son up on deck. He let them explore some more while he performed a few chores.

     Both cats were captivated by the sea. They sat as if in a trance, their tails rising and falling to the rhythm of the waves. When they had watched the breakers long enough, they ran from the boat to the edge of the surf and back again before the water could splash them. There was so much sand that the naive kitten was prompted to proclaim: "Gosh! This must be the biggest litter box in the whole world!"

     While Dan worked, he wondered what to do about the cats. He hoped whoever the cats belonged to weren't worried. Tomorrow, he would drive them back to Pootersville to find their owner.

     At bedtime both cats tried to lie in the hammock with Dan, but he would not let them. The human knew the cats could not stay and didn't want to get too attached to them. Simon and Toob settled on a soft seat cushion below a porthole overlooking the ocean. Soon the sound of the sea soothed everyone to sleep.

     In the middle of the night Simon woke up to a noise that did not belong aboard. It was not the reassuring sound of wooden walls creaking against the night breeze. Nor was it the booming foghorn or the lapping of the surf. This was the menacing sound of scurrying mice. She was certain this noise did not belong aboard.

     Simon moved silently through the dark confides of the moonlit cabin, stalking the intruders. She followed the disturbing noise to a small forward hold where supplies were stored. Gnawing diligently on the edge of a wooden hatch cover were four gray mice.

     "All right, you rats," Simon snarled. "I've got you now!"

     Like lightning, she trapped their tails with her fast front paws, pinning them in place.

     "Have mercy!" the rodents squealed.

     Toob trotted over, taking an immediate interest. "My, my," he meowed. "I could use a snack."

     "Don't eat us!" squeaked the mice.

     Simon showed her sharp teeth. "For sneaking aboard this boat, you all deserve to be devoured," she observed.

     One mouse kneeled despairingly. "We were just leaving," pleaded the horror-struck rodent. "We want off this ship! Let us leave peacefully."

     It seemed unlikely the mouse was telling the truth. Simon suspected the mouse of employing reverse psychology.

     "That you are leaving the ship is certain" she hissed. "The question is whether you depart dead or alive."

     Simon could be ruthless when she wanted to.

     At precisely that instant, an unusual movement among the planets occurred, placing the earth between the sun and the moon. A full eclipse of the moon took place. Such an event is rare, happening only once or twice a decade.

     It was a lucky coincidence for the mice. As the cabin was plunged into total darkness, they scattered in opposite directions. The cats were after them in an instant. The chase caused such a commotion that Dan woke up.

     "Jumping cats!" boomed the human.

     Around the doghouse (which, incidentally, is a nautical term meaning: interior of a boat) sped the animals. Dan watched their antics with the rooted attention of a television viewer. The chase led up and across the chart table, scattering papers haphazardly; around and around the steering column; and in and out the small spaces and hiding places of the hold. One mouse ran right across the end of Dan's bed. When Toob came tearing after, it set the hammock swinging!

     Soon all of the intruders were cornered before the vandalized hatch cover. Simon loomed sinisterly over the trembling trespassers. Dan dashed forward, bringing a broom to bash the mice mercilessly.

     "You will all perish," Simon hissed through clenched teeth, "unless you leave here and never return. Should you..."

     "May I say it, Mom?" interrupted Toob.

     "Very well, darling. But hurry!" Simon replied.

     The human was almost there.

     "Should you," Toob continued, pointing a paw at one of the captives, "or you, or you, or you," he said, poking at the others, "or any of your family, or even your friends," he added with a dramatic sweep of his arm, "set just one toe aboard this boat, then plan on immediate, uh..."

     "Recriminations," Simon prompted him.

     "We promise!" the mice blubbered hysterically. "Really, we were just leaving! We wouldn't stay on this ship for a million wheels of cheese!"

     Simon reached up to release the latch just as the fisherman brought the broom down, pushing the hatch open for the mice to flee. The cats chased them across the deck and down the gangplank into the night darkness.

     Naturally, Dan greeted the cats gratefully when they returned. He let them sleep on his hammock with him. It was very late and all three were tired. Dan was so sleepy that he didn't even set the alarm clock.

     All three slept soundly, oblivious of any peril. The ocean seemed extra quiet and so, of course, did the cabin.

     Outside, however, the tide was turning. The total eclipse of the moon had caused the tide to rise unusually high.

     The mice should have warned them. They laughed naughtily as they ran across the sand to safety. The mice had known all along that the rising waters would cause the unfinished boat to float away. They had actually been intercepted in the act of abandoning ship.

11. Big Again

     The three dogs padded down the warm wooden railroad ties outside hilly Billings, Montana. Blue ran on and off the tracks, sniffing around the ground and marking trees and flushing out fowl. Boz strode strongly along, whiffing the wind in hopes of a new lead. Ted lagged behind, often distracted by new sights, chasing after butterflies, or halting to hear the melodies of the meadowlarks - then clomping clumsily forward to catch up.

     Blue spotted the pond first. The little lake stood surrounded by cedar trees six hundred yards off the railroad route. He ran, yelping, across a grassy pasture toward it, and the other dogs followed thirstily. Blue and Ted stopped at the shore and lapped the cool water gratefully, but Boz walked right into the shallow pool, up to his chest, and sat down.

     "Oooo," he said dreamily. "That feels good."

     Boz leaned forward and allowed all but the tip of his nose to slip underwater. He felt some fleas flee his body.

     On shore, Ted looked up from drinking and, giving a start, barked. "Where did Boz go?" he bleated.

     Blue saw an opportunity to make mischief. He lifted his head and, smacking his lips, glanced around casually. "He was here a minute ago," the naughty dog teased. "I hope an alligator didn't get him."

     "Alligators!" Ted cried. His eyes got wide and his long black ears stood out sideways. The puppy dashed knee deep in the water, and called the collie's name plaintively.

     Ted's bark was startlingly loud. Animals from all around heard the sound. Boz monitored it underwater, and slowly rose to survey the commotion.

     The sight of the collie's long nose and thin head submerging from the depths of the pond scared the confused puppy more. Ted thought he was seeing an alligator, and began to run dizzily in circles. Blue fell over laughing.

     Boz stood, his body drenched and dripping, revealing his strong, angular frame. "What is going on?" he asked.

     When Ted recognized Boz, he was so glad that he rushed right into the water. After a few steps his feet did not meet the bottom of the pond, and he sank beneath the surface only to resurface instantly, squirming and shrieking. Kicking his legs very fast, Ted propelled himself toward Boz.

     "Why, Ted," the collie said encouragingly, "you are a natural born swimmer!"

     Ted paddled around with pleasure. "Look at me, Blue!" he called proudly.

     Blue gave in, and swam out to join them. Boz floated on his back, extending as little energy as possible, while Ted and Blue splashed and chased around him.

     Blue chased Ted to the muddy shore and tackled him. Both dogs rolled, yipping and nipping, in the mud. They rolled back and forth, with Ted on top, then Blue, getting muddy and muddier. Ted began to slip every time he tried to stand up. The puppy got so muddy that he looked like a little brown bear cub.

     Blue chased Ted back into the water, and Boz joined them for tag until they were all washed off. Then they went back to shore to muddy their paws before moving on. Boz, Ted, and Blue each stood in the soft mud to soothe their aching feet. The dogs instinctively knew that mud was a natural healer.

     What the dogs did not know, however, was that the sounds of their roughhousing carried very clearly; many nearby creatures heard them, including four local dogs, whose job it was to protect the area from intruders.

     Boz and Blue both smelled the sentinels before they arrived. Blue pushed out his chest, scratched the ground with his hind legs, and growled nervously. "We are not alone," he snorted.

     "Ted," Boz said, "come stand beside me."

     The puppy obeyed gratefully.

     A deep voice barked gruffly from nearby. "Beware!"

     "Stay where you are!" two similar sounding voices echoed from either side.

     From behind them, a fourth dog cleared it's throat, and woofed a final warning. "We have you surrounded," she said, sharply.

     Blue jumped about, his fur bristling furiously. "You don't scare us!" he barked bravely. "We have as much right here as anybody!"

     Out of the brush rushed four furry forms. The foes clearly outnumbered our heroes. Boz stood as tall as he could and growled menacingly. Blue moved like a Mexican jumping bean, hopping up and down, his lips pulled back to reveal two rows of sharp, shiny fangs. Ted cowered behind Boz, his eyes bright with fright.

     Crouching and snarling, their eyes narrowed to thin red slits, the four opponents circled around the three strangers several times, allowing them to size each other up. The hostile dog pack consisted of two identical Dalmatians, an old, cunning black mongrel, and a muscular tan water dog with a strong, broad snout, who appeared to be the leader.

     Boz watched the leader warily. Although the collie hated violence, he knew enough about survival in the canine world to at least act unafraid.

     "I am Thales!" the big dog snarled, shaking his jowls ferociously. "You have intruded on our territory!"

     "I can explain," Boz began, but the black mongrel nipped him from behind, ending any chance of peaceful negotiation. The collie whirled around, crying painfully, and backed in an aggressive stance.

     Blue rushed forward, cursing furiously, and bit the bad black dog's ear. She ran off, crying wildly. This signaled the beginning of the battle.

     Thales charged forth, roaring like a warlord, and his troupe followed, rowdily. All the dogs began fighting one another at the same time. Their frenzied scrambling raised a dense dust cloud.

     Thales bit Boz and Boz bit back. Then Thales pushed Boz down and tore at his throat, brutally. The collie scratched fiercely with his strong hind claws. Blue flew to the rescue, snapping his fangs ferociously; but the twin Dalmatians, Dash and Flash, dragged the feisty foe away, and began to throttle him mercilessly. Old Rosebud, whose ear was wounded earlier, joined the melange, madly craving revenge. All the dogs barked and groaned in gruesome ways. Dog flesh was gashed and bodies bled. Gosh, it was awful!

     Ted tumbled from the rumbling mass of quarreling canines. He rolled like a crochet ball up against a big boulder. The puppy trembled with fright at the sight of the wild fight. His best friends were getting tromped.

     "Where is my Master?" Ted wailed frantically. "Where, oh where could he be?"

     Suddenly a large dark shadow crossed the battleground. The shadow had the shape of the immense snout of a savage beast. When Ted realized that the boulder he'd bounced against was actually an animal, he began to bawl. The other dogs stood still and stared with scared, bewildered faces. Towering above them was a humongous dog.

     Big Dog's voice sounded as deep as if it came from a cave. His powerful jaws were as threatening as a bear trap.

     "Cease this senseless squabbling!" spoke the Great Dane.

     All the dogs were scared except Boz and Blue. They stepped forward, smiling gratefully.

     "Are we glad to see you!" the panting collie exclaimed. "Now, let's all make peace!"

     Thales, Dash, Flash, and Old Rosebud wagged their tails in a consolatory manner. Big Dog's size made him a natural peacemaker.

12. A Sure Sign

     There were now eight members to the rescue party. After Boz described their dangerous mission, all the dogs set aside their differences and devoted their interests to the search. The current entourage consisted of the collie, little Blue, young Ted, Big Dog, Thales (the tan water dog), Dash, his twin sister Flash, and Old Rosebud. The dogs got to know one another better on the long walk across the wide lands of Montana. It took several weeks for the canines to cross the state.

     Boz was the undisputed leader. His unfailing common sense kept them out of trouble and on course. For instance, Boz made the rule that they never take food from garbage cans or harm farmer's livestock, because this would get them in trouble with the humans, perhaps slowing their progress; instead he led his friends on exciting hunting excursions for wild game. Boz and his buddies would rush, panting with pleasure, through forest and field, flushing out pheasants and chasing chipmunks. It may seem barbaric to some readers that the dogs devoured a few bunny rabbits, but they needed nutrition to continue with their task.

     Blue liked to act like a real big shot. Although smaller in stature than the other dogs, Blue made up for his size by the sheer force of his personality. Constantly barking commands, he saw to it that nobody slept in, lagged behind, or stepped out of line. No one ever complained of Blue's bossiness, because they knew that he just liked to hear the sound of his own voice. Besides, Blue knew more about travel than the lot of them. Acting like a field commander, he often dispatched patrols to look for clues and spread the news of their search among the animals they met. All the others admired Blue's acrobatic abilities, and put up with his personality quirks.

     The addition of Big Dog to the rescue party helped in many ways. His height and fine eyesight made him more valuable than a telescope. He was strong enough to carry any of the others on his back if they grew too tired. One time Big was sleeping in a pile of pine needles while the other dogs chased among the trees, playing tag, when he was aroused by the sound of angry, frightened barking. A big brown bear with terrible, sharp claws had attacked the dog pack! Big rushed to the rescue. Bellowing like a bull, he charged upon the wild beast and chased it away.

     Thales was appropriately named after the Greek water god. He loved to swim. Whenever he came within a half mile of any river, lake, or slough, Thales would run off and get himself wet. His shaggy tan fur was constantly coated with mud. Because his body had a thick layer of fat, the Labrador could keep warm while swimming even in the coldest water; unlike most of us, he preferred rainy days to sunshine. In fact, the only form of water Thales didn't like was bath water!

     Dash and Flash were twins; but although they both looked alike, the two Dalmatians acted as different as day and night. Dash was a speedy runner, the fastest in the pack. Once he ran so fast that all of his fur blew off, and it took him three months to grow a new coat. Flash, his sister, must have had springs in her feet. No fence or hedge was too high for her to vault.

     Ted tried very hard to act more grown up. It was a rough request for such a young dog. His short, stocky legs had to work twice as hard as his elders'. Because his undeveloped mind tended to wander, he was often in trouble. Sometimes he would forget where he was walking and stray off in the wrong direction to examine a deserted bird nest or an old shoe someone left behind. As punishment for his many mistakes, Ted had to make the beds every night, crushing down patches in tall grass pastures or digging holes in the hard ground, an activity he actually enjoyed. Ted's mellow, unassuming personality kept him from getting too troubled by the rigors of travel. Besides, when he grew too tired, he had Old Rosebud to comfort him.

     Old Rosebud took to Ted in a motherly way. They both walked slower and often kept behind the group, talking. In dog years she was eighty-eight; being so much older she knew many interesting things about human nature which she taught to Ted. She was in good shape, able to run and play as gracefully as the other dogs. Her small black body looked like someone had playfully splattered pancake batter over it. Although a few gray hairs adorned her face, the eyes of Old Rosebud sparkled like a puppy's. Few dogs possessed as wise a mind as hers.

     The dogs might have found the trek across Montana much more monotonous had they not had each others' company. For days at a time they would trod among the tall pine trees, never seeming to mind the sameness of the scenery. They played wild games of tag and chased squirrels and ate raw fish which they learned to flip from the shallow streams.

     As the dogs neared the border of South Dakota, the going got slower. The trails twisted up and down and around mountains thick with trees. The forests were so thick that sometimes the sky would become obliterated - that is why they were called the Black Hills. Each time the canines climbed to the top of one high ridge, there seemed to be an even steeper obstacle beyond. Every day they covered less distance, and every night they felt more tired. Fortunately, the dense forests provided the hunters with better bounty.

     One day Dash and Flash, who had been off exploring, came barging back to the pack, barking frightfully. Dash was scared out of his wits. His spotted tail was tucked between his legs in terror.

     The other dogs quickly gathered, and Flash, still shivering with fright, tried to explain. "We saw gi-giants!" she stammered. "There were four of them, staring at us from behind high stony peaks! We escaped unnoticed. Their huge gray faces..."

     "What should we do?" Ted whimpered, worriedly.

     "Let's fight them!" Blue barked, belligerently.

     "We must remain calm," replied Old Rosebud.

     "Are they as big as me?" asked the Great Dane.

     "Ten times as tall," Dash decreed. "Compared to those giants, we look like fleas."

     "Oh, wow!" Boz sighed.

     "Too much!" Thales exclaimed.

     The canines crept carefully closer, keeping a tight formation. They were careful not to rustle any brush. Ted was most nervous and kept moving between the bigger dogs' legs for protection, which several times caused them to stumble into the others who all began barking and chasing in circles. To avoid more confusion, Big Dog picked Ted up by the scruff of the neck with his teeth, and carried him.

     So Ted was the first dog to get a clear view of the most monstrous sight any of them had ever seen. Four big heads stuck up from a nearby mountain, looming so large that the details of each man's face could clearly be seen. The dogs got so scared and confused that they jumped up and down and howled. They did not know they were seeing Mount Rushmore.

     As all Americans know, Mount Rushmore is the largest statue of its kind anywhere. Carved into the rim of the mountain's granite bluffs are enormous sculptured heads of four great United States presidents: George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and Theodore Roosevelt. Each head measures sixty feet tall, about as high as a five story building. The memorial statue covers nearly two square miles of mountainside. The heads are so large it is possible for a person to stand in Jefferson's eye.

     Naturally the dogs were very scared. They mistook the monument for monsters, and all began to bark and howl in an alarming manner. The noise they made echoed across the canyon, rumbling around the rocks so menacingly that all the tourists visiting the park got back in their cars and rolled up their windows.

     The dogs continued to bark challenges across the canyon and did not notice when a little fox, as white as snow, stepped from the trees behind them. The white fox attempted to address the dogs several times before actually attracting their attention.

     "Hey!" she shouted at the top of her tiny voice. "Hey, you domestics!"

     Boz and Thales and all the others stopped barking and stared at the fox. They were so confused that they did not even think of chasing her.

     "What is going on here?" the fox demanded.

     All the dogs spoke at once: "Run away! Go warn your friends! The giants are coming!"

     "Those aren't giants," the fox explained, calmly. "That's something the humans made. Your 'giants'", she laughed, lifting a paw, "are only stone statues!"

     The dogs sniffed the air skeptically. Then, realizing their error, turned their attention to the interesting animal before them. The fox had beautiful white hair and a long pointed nose. Her eyes were as red as rubies.

     "Tell me," Box asked the fox. "What function do these statues serve?"

     "Those figures represent four of this country's greatest thinkers," said the fox. "People stare at them for inspiration."

     "We could use some of that," the collie admitted.

     Now that they were no longer scared, the dogs sat and stared at the statues in admiration. It was no wonder the dogs had been fooled; each face looked very realistic.

     "Could you take me up there?" Boz asked the fox.

     So Boz and Sophie, the wild white fox, set off to scale Mount Rushmore. Blue went, too. He found the fox unusually attractive. The rest stayed below and watched the forms of their friends grow smaller and smaller as they moved up the mountain.

     Sophie led them along steep paths which only she knew. Blue kept right up with the fox, impressing her with his agility, but Boz, with his bigger body, had a harder time. The granite was smooth and slippery, and the wind was strong, so he had to be careful of each step.

     As they scrambled across the stony strands of Washington's hair, which were as thick as tree trunks, the collie faltered and fell. Boz skidded down the President's forehead, dragging his toenails helplessly. Blue leaped loyally after him. Sophie shut her eyes; when she dared look again, the two dogs were perched perilously on the edge of George Washington's right eyebrow!

     "Hang in there, Boz!" Blue whispered.

     Boz looked over his shoulder and gasped. They were hanging miles in the air. The roads below looked like thin gray threads; an entire farm seemed shrunk to postage-stamp size; and the other dogs, anxiously watching, appeared as tiny as specks of sand.

     What am I doing here?, Boz wondered. He had led such a quiet life, previous to his Master's disappearance.

     As usual, the mere thought of his Master made the collie brave. Boz and Blue leaped all the way from the edge of the eyebrow to the inside of George Washington's ear. It was a long leap. Sophie soon joined them there, chattering gladly. The dogs below barked with glee.

     The inside of the ear was like a deep cave. The three animals sat on the ledge, listening to the wind whistle by.

     Boz was looking for an answer. The collie wanted just one sign that they were going the right direction.

     Directly across from them hung Jefferson's gigantic nose. It was so large that you could fly an airplane up the nostril. Boz's gaze fastened on the tremendous creation. Everything else seemed small compared to that nose.

     "Does this mean we should follow our noses, or something?" the collie pondered.

     But Blue and Sophie did not hear Boz. They were engaged in a staring match.

     As the ship drifted further from shore, the currents caused the craft to pitch and roll, gently rocking the hammock, containing Dan and his two new friends, like a cradle. Simon lay curled in a furry black ball by the fisherman's feet. Toob shared half of Dan's pillow and had pulled the man's thick beard over his belly like a blanket.

     Although utterly unconscious, Toob's mind was active with images. The kitten was dreaming; he saw himself as Long John Whiskers, the swashbuckling pirate and seasoned sailor of the seven seas. Being prosperous plunderers, he and his crew wore flamboyant costumes and ate only tasty tuna. Woe to any rodents captured aboard! The pirates forced mice to walk the plank, prodding the pests with the points of sharp sabers. Toob's dream also contained a song sequence. Captain Whiskers and his buccaneer buddies sang this salty song to the sea:

                 I am a pirate cat!

                 What do you think of that?

                 I plunder the seas

                 And take what I please.

                 I act like a brat,

                 And that is that

                 For I am a pirate

                 Yes I am a pirate

                 I am a PIRATE CAT!!!!!

     Behind him, pirate kitties played accordions, fiddles, and harmonicas, while others tap danced on the hard wooden deck. To the side, two mice danced an impassioned jig, their last dance before dying.

     Simon slept less soundly. Her dreams came in waves. Pictures of her past washed over her mind like waves across the shore; each image mounting and dissolving into the next. She saw herself as a kitten, playfully clinging to her Master's pant leg; chasing birds off the backyard fence; batting walnuts across the hardwood floor; and sunning herself atop the hood of a warm automobile, all things that cats enjoy. Simon purred in her sleep, content in her thoughts. Then the scenes in her dream shifted, becoming totally unfamiliar to her, full of spooky shapes and sinister shadows, until the only thing for her to do was wake up. The mother cat opened her eyes and stared out the porthole. Outside the surface of the sea swelled and fell to the same rhythm as the gentle breath of the fisherman sleeping nearby.

     Dan's dream was simple enough. He dreamt of landing lots of fish. The dedicated fisherman visioned a lovely lake so stock full of fish that each cast received a response. Not only that, but each cast bagged a different breed: trout, bass, salmon, mackerel, ling cod, flounder, crappie - Dan even landed an octopus! Then the dream took a terrible turn. He ran out of bait in the middle of the splendid spree. The fisherman woke up feeling frumpy.

     "Shiver my timbers!" he exclaimed, almost instantly. "We are moving!"

     All three hurried through the hatch and landed on deck. The ship had drifted too far for the shore to be seen with the naked eye. They were as totally stranded as two cats and a man could be.

     "Where are we?" Toob meowed.

     As if Dan understood kitty talk, he answered solemnly, "We are in the middle of the largest ocean in the world."

     The Pacific Ocean measures sixty-four million square miles, which is twenty-five percent larger than all the land surface of the world combined. In places it is seven miles deep. And full of fish. A strong Japanese current coursed through the ocean, carrying the craft containing the cats along at a rate of almost twenty-three knots, or twenty miles per hour. Without a motor, Dan's boat was completely at the mercy of the winds, currents, and tides.

     It took Toob a while to acquire 'sea legs', or the ability to walk around the rocking boat without falling down. He had to learn to place his feet further apart, which made him look bowlegged. Simon seemed to have less difficulty adjusting to the rolling seas. She walked with perfect grace all over the ship. Dan dubbed her a natural born sailor.

     The fisherman spent most of the first day at sea sewing together several canvas sheets to attach to the ship's tall masts. Not only would the sails increase their speed, they would also act as a funnel to collect fresh rain water for drinking during the long voyage.

     Dan put out a few fishing lines to collect some supper. In no time the deck was littered with perch, tuna, and Chinook salmon. Then the fisherman lowered a net to scoop up sardines, which the cats enjoyed eating. "Save a few for bait, mates," Dan cautioned them.

     As soon as darkness fell, the seaman put his sextant on the deck, under the stars. A sextant is a navigational tool used to determine ones position in the ocean. First Dan made a mark on his map where he guessed the ship to be; this estimate is called a 'dead reckoning'. He next pointed the eyepiece of the instrument at Capella, a sighting star, and noted the angle indicated on a scale. Then the sailor looked at a clock (or chronometer), referred to a navigational manual, and used trigonometry to find their exact bearing. According to his calculations, they were headed toward Japan.

     So Simon, Toob, and Dan the fisherman spent six months adrift at sea. Aside from the missing motor, the ship performed perfectly. Dan divided his time between upkeep and repairs (even on a perfect ship things need tending), landing lots of large, exotic fish, and the weaving of nets. This last activity fascinated the feline crew, who sat for hours absorbed in the graceful movements of the human's hands twisting and tying the cord in complicated patterns. Toob could not resist taking playful swipes at the dangling lengths of string.

     The slow pace of each succeeding day suited all three passengers perfectly. It was peaceful all alone on the ocean. The sound of the sea was soothing. The cats took frequent naps. Dan liked to light his pipe and watch the sky. The sunsets were splendid.

     There was nowhere aboard the cats did not explore. The curious creatures were constantly crawling into drawers and lockers and climbing gracefully along even the narrowest ledges. Simon enjoyed perching atop the ship's mast, with a view for miles in all directions, while Toob's favorite pastime was playing peek-a-boo. Dan found enough enjoyment in the animals' antics to make even the most monotonous moments more memorable.

     Over the course of the long voyage, Toob grew out of kittenhood. Already taller than Simon, the maturing male no longer required his Mother's milk. Naturally, the cat's diet consisted entirely of fish, causing his fur to grow thick and shiny.

     Late one afternoon, the sky darkened and the water grew unusually choppy, indicating an approaching storm. Large drops of rain pelted the deck, chasing the cats to the cabin for shelter. Dan ran around his boat, securing hatches and tying down any loose articles. Then he lowered the sail before the powerful wind could wreck it.

     Soon the storm was upon them. The angry sea tossed the ship about like a toy. Gigantic waves swept across the deck, thoroughly soaking the seaman. The cats cried wildly inside the cabin, but Dan knew they were safer there than anywhere.

     Then the skipper of the ship got the shock of his life. Off starboard he spied a wall of water forty feet high. It was a tidal wave headed straight toward the ship!

     Grabbing a length of rope, Dan shinnied up the main mast and tied himself tightly to the top. Lashed to the mast, Dan prayed the wave wouldn't reach too high, but within ten seconds the boat was completely engulfed by the roaring water.

     The ship was as powerless as a sock engaged in the spin cycle of a washing machine. Dan held his breath as the boat tilted sideways, then turned completely upside down in the wake of the terrible tidal wave.

     Inside the cabin, the cats tumbled helplessly to the ceiling, now located beneath them, followed by a shower of books, pillows, cooking utensils, and anything else that wasn't bolted down. Cupboards and drawers emptied themselves of their contents, spilling staples of sugar and flour sloppily downward.

     To Dan's credit, the ship he'd designed righted itself the instant the wave passed, bobbing back like a duckling. Dan felt so proud of his boat that he did not mind almost drowning.

     The cats weren't as pleased, however. They had been tossed around like jackstraws. Only their ability to land on their feet kept the cats from serious injury. Regardless, they were pretty sore with Dan when he appeared at the doghouse door.

     "Confound it!" Simon hissed. "Look at my coat!"

     Both cats' fur were splattered with food. The cabin was in shambles. The soggy seaman sat on the steps and surveyed the scene. He shook his head sadly and ruffled Toob's matted fur.

     "We're a mess, aren't we?" the man chuckled, good naturally.

     By the time Dan changed clothes, bathed both cats, and restored order to the cabin, the storm had passed - and so, he assumed, had their troubles. The cats were fed, then Dan went to sleep.

     The next morning the sun was shining and the ocean was considerably calmer. Therefore, the crew chose to lay in bed late. The last time all three stayed in bed beyond the normal makeup time resulted in the boat floating away. Although tired after the storm, it should have been someone's responsibility to check their course at daybreak. Perhaps a less lazy attitude would have prevented the ship from running aground.

     Around 9:30 Dan pushed the blankets back, his eyes wide open. "Hold everything," he announced. "This ship is standing still!"

     The human, along with the animals, hurried on deck, anxious to inspect some solid ground. The cats hoped they had landed some place nice that had dairy cows.

     Instead they saw sand bars - small grey islands bare of trees, houses, or even flowers - floating in the empty sea. The ship was snuggled up to a sand bar like it was a comfy couch.

     "We're marooned!" Dan cried dismally. "This is worse than floating adrift!"

     The seriousness of the situation slowly dawned on Dan. The cats tried to comfort their friend by rubbing their bodies against the back of his legs.

     Finally the fisherman threw a ladder over the side of the ship and climbed down, shovel in hand, to examine the sand bar.

     Although barely the size of a tetherball court, the empty island supported the ship solidly. Dan consulted a tide chart; unfortunately, the water was currently at its highest mark.

     The fisherman gazed at the other islands. They looked like little stepping stones that didn't lead any place. Suddenly, one of them sent up a geyser of gurgling water and sank slowly from sight.

     "Well, blow me down," Dan remarked, lamely.

     He slapped the surface of the sand bar which held his ship with the shovel. This action caused the land mass to rise even higher in the water.

     "Holy mackerel!" Dan exclaimed, clambering back aboard. "Those aren't sand bars! Those are whales!"

     For years afterward nobody believed Dan's story about the gam of friendly whales that carried his craft safely across the rest of the ocean. People were sure the story was the delusion of a lonely man lost at sea with no one but two cats to talk to.

     If only the cats actually possessed the ability of speech. They would testify to the truth of the tale. The whales were wonderful. They sang lovely sad songs about being beneath the sea as they pushed the boat forward. There were always at least eight whales in sight, and at times as many as twenty of the great creatures would join the progression. Sometimes they passed the craft gamingly between them.

     To repay the whales kindness, the human tended to their wounds and the cats scratched bothersome barnacles from the massive mammals' sides. Although gentle creatures, their tough skin was terribly scarred from run-ins with predators.

     In no time they were within eyesight of Japan. The whales released the boat in an excellent fishing channel thirty miles off the coast. The cats gazed sadly seaward as their benefactors floated away.

     "I like their class," Simon said.

     "Me, too," meowed Toob.

     "Let's drop anchor," Dan suggested. "We'll go ashore tomorrow, after I catch some fish to sell. When I am in the market I will buy some milk and meat," he added hungrily.

     The Oriental waters are warm and clear, perfect for spearing fish. Dan did good business, enough to buy supplies and make improvements on his boat. Every afternoon after work he swam along the ocean floor, collecting fresh oysters for dinner.

     The cats, of course, went absolutely insane over oysters. They ate them uncooked, bowl after bowl, and meowed for more. Dan couldn't shell them fast enough.

     In fact, the fisherman grew so tired of diving for their food that he designed little diving helmets so the cats could collect their own oysters. The diving masks were made by removing the bottom from the round glass fishing floats the Japanese use to hold their nets, so they fit over each cats' head.

     Simon and Toob took to the water faster than frogs. With the glass masks they could see the sea clearly. Simon sought the savory shellfish, while her son pursued the various tropical varieties.

     Simon's favorite way of eating oysters was on the halfshell. At one meal she discovered a large, shiny pearl in her oyster. The finicky cat pushed it aside and continued chewing. When Dan spied the jewel, he became extremely elated.

     "We're rich!" he hooted. "I can always count on you cats for bringing me luck. With a few more of these pearls I can afford an engine!"

     Dan's dream was not as farfetched as it seems. In time enough pearls were collected to purchase a powerful diesel motor for the troller. To show his gratitude, Dan made a little string of pearls to go around Simon's neck. Her short black fur set the natural pearls off exquisitely.

     One of the more notable features of the Badlands region of South Dakota is the abruptness with which they begin. Boz and the rest of the pack were slightly startled when the landscape changed from rolling grasslands to a tumult of spires and battlements practically within miles. Although French fur traders nicknamed the area "les mauvaises terres a' traverser" (translation: bad lands to cross), the canines were captivated by this barren land.

     The Badlands of South Dakota consist of deep mineral deposits that have been carved into amazing shapes by centuries of wind and water. Long periods of hot weather have baked and tempered the eroded shapes, followed by short showers of hard rain that have slowly smoothed the stone. Layers of clay as pale as beach sand were juxtaposed against brick red bands of rock, giving the region the startling appearance of the Grand Canyon in miniature. The landscape looked so unusual that Ted was tempted to ask, "Do you think we will see any dinosaurs?"

     There were actually an astonishing assortment of wild animals present, from the bull buffalo to the pronghorn sheep and turkey vultures, but the prairie dogs were the most amusing to watch. These hardworking rodents lived in holes they tunneled in the ground, from which they popped up and down like little brown yo-yos.

     Naturally the first impulse that the hungry, travel-weary canines had was to eat the cute creatures. Blue organized every offense imaginable, but not even Dash could catch one.

     "Leave us alone!" the prairie dogs chattered angrily from their burrows. "We are an endangered species!"

     It was a shame the canines could not consist on the prairie dogs' vegetarian diet of plains grass!

     Forward the dogs forged, facing such hardships as hunger, thirst, heat exhaustion, and big mean fleas. There were tricky box canyons and dangerous quicksand pits, scorpions as large as lobsters and horntoads as big as a man's hand! The Badlands terrain was treacherous and tiring. Many men who enter this rugged region never return alive. But the dogs did.

     On the eastern edge of the Badlands the dogs discovered a gigantic junk yard. The owner of this dump was named Clancy. He was a happy junk collector. The inside of Clancy's trailer was filled with items from other peoples' garbage cans. Although considered eccentric by most humans, Clancy was well liked by both dogs and cats. He let stray animals hang around the junk yard to ward off rats, raccoons, and other unwanted intruders. The trash man took good care of his helpers, providing good food and tending to their wounds.

     Clancy's pets were as protective of the dump as if it were a palace. Among the dump dwellers was a dog named Ellie, who had a very sharp sense of hearing. Ellie detected the arrival of Boz and his eight confederates in time to organize a very loud reception committee.

     When Clancy saw Boz's dog pack, he exclaimed, "Upon my word! What a bunch of skinny dogs!"

     Indeed, the dogs had grown lean in the preceding weeks. At the same time, Ted had grown taller, although he still had the gangly look of a puppy. The long trip had been hard on Ted, but when he saw the high garbage heaps he forgot his complaints.

     Ted's favorite memories would always remain his days at the dump. How he enjoyed rooting around the garbage, unearthing delicious bones; chasing big black crows in large lazy circles; and taking long, luxurious naps. Although Clancy grew fond of all the travelers, he took a particular liking to Ted, and spent some time stroking the puppy's long black ears, cooing compliments.

     The outgoing pup made friends with many other dump dwellers, including the billy goats, whose beards he admired - to Ted's amazement, the goats ate tin cans!

     To Ted's thinking, Ellie was by far the most interesting of the refuge residents. She reminded him of a dust mop. She had such long hair, including bangs completely covering her eyes, that Ted could hardly tell her head from her tail.

     "What kind of breed are you?" Ted inquired.

     Ellie shook her shaggy coat proudly. "I am a Lhasa Apso. My ancestors are from Tibet. My kind are known for our acute sense of hearing."

     Despite the junk yard's many attractions, Blue was soon rearing to go. "Let's blow this dump!" he suggested, roguishly.

     But some of the others were opposed to leaving the comfortable refuge.

     "We just got here!" Thales complained, voicing a common consensus.

     "If you ask me," said a small voice from behind, "you should not be complaining. Most dogs never see further than their front porches. You are all lucky to be free. I wish I could go with you. There is more to life than this dump."

     The voice belonged to Ellie. Her speech gave the dissenting dogs the encouragement to continue their crusade, taking Ellie along with them.

     Across Minnesota, the land-of-ten-thousand-lakes, they moved. The dogs passed through the Red River Valley, so named because of the rich red soil on the ground.

     To be accurate, the lakes of Minnesota number about five thousand more than the ten thousand of legend. The dogs crossed the state with increasing difficulty. Although able to swim the smaller lakes and streams, they often had to walk around the wider ones, which took more time. Their course became as twisted and complicated as a maze. Sometimes an entire afternoon would be wasted wandering along the lake shore, only to encounter an emerging river, forcing the dogs to retrace their steps and try another route.

     More time passed. Their progress was so slow that the travelers began complaining and arguing among themselves. Some of them wished they had never left the comforts of home in the first place.

     Finally, dirty and discouraged, the dogs stood at the shore of a vast expanse of water. It looked like an ocean but was, in fact, Lake Superior, the first of the Great Lakes of North America.

     Boz slumped sadly to the ground. For the first time since leaving Pootersville, the collie felt truly defeated. "Oh, no," he groaned. "We will never get across."

     The other dogs rallied around their leader.

     "Don't worry, Boz," Big Dog drawled.

     "A little water never stopped anybody," Thales added encouragingly.

     Suddenly, Blue started jumping up and down. "Our troubles are over!" he exclaimed.

     Not fifty feet up the shore a big barge was moored. All the dogs ran up the gangplank and hid inside a lifeboat, beneath a canvas cover. Luckily, none of the crew was on deck; they were all in the hold, playing dominoes.

     That afternoon the ship set off across Lake Superior. For the most part, the dogs stayed hidden in the life boat, which was as comfortable as the Captain's cabin to them.

     Occasionally one or more of them would sneak out on deck to snatch food or relieve themselves over the edge of the ship. The crew on board spent their entire voyage chasing the food filchers, without once managing to locate the crafty canines' hiding place. One could not call the sailors a swift crew.

     To pass the long hours inside the lifeboat, the dogs told entertaining stories of their pasts. Or tall tales, is more like it. Blue once insisted he'd enlisted on an Arctic dog sled team, where he had learned actual Eskimo words for forty varieties of snow.

     Until one day, halfway across Lake Erie, Ted tugged at a dangling rope and accidentally dropped the dogs' lifeboat over the edge of the barge. Unfortunately, the inattentive crew did not even notice the loose lifeboat. The drifting lifeboat looked very small compared to the Great Lake.

     Cramped inside the canvas covered craft, the canines complained constantly of Ted's incompetence. Even Boz considered the puppy solely responsible for their present predicament.

     Luckily, they had saved plenty of food, and the canvas cover kept the animals warm and dry.

     The dogs drifted for days. Every once in a while one of them stuck their nose outside to sniff for shore.

      Then, a few days later, Ellie's sensitive ears heard an ominous sound.

     "Attention, everybody!" she barked. "We are approaching an enormous waterfall!"

     In fact, their lifeboat was approaching Niagara Falls, and moving swifter every second. Soon the roar of the rushing water grew louder than the dogs' terrified yelps.

     Niagara Falls spills two hundred feet where Lake Erie empties into Lake Ontario. Every minute more than 465,000 tons of water pour into torrents over Niagara. As the water plunges from the brink of the falls it fills the air with a silvery mist which under the sunlight displays many rainbows.

     Meanwhile, inside the lifeboat, the dogs ran around and around in circles, considering options. None of them had any prior experience in similar situations. Even Thales, the water lover, was worried.

     "Let's all climb aboard Big Dog and hope for the best," Blue suggested.

     Boz began frantically tugging at the canvas covering the lifeboat. "We've got to get out of here!" the collie whined. "How does this confounded cover come off?"

     All the dogs leaped at the lid, trying to release it. The boat was tottering on the edge of the falls, preparing to plunge downward to destruction. There seemed no escape from doom when Ted noticed a sign attached to a white cord dangling right in front of his big black nose.

     The sign said, "PULL TO REMOVE COVER". Of course, Ted could not read, but he pulled the string anyway, loosening the lid.

     "Quick, troops!" Blue barked. "Everybody grab a corner!"

     Each dog sunk their teeth into the canvas cover. As the lifeboat slipped over the precipice, plunging to the roaring rapids below, the dogs gripped the edges of the taropan tightly. The craft's canvas cover converted into a parachute to carry the canines safely over Niagara Falls. The dazzling sight of the dogs drifting over the misty waters attracted the attention of several sightseers, including a photographer who sold a picture to a post card company for a small fortune.

     The parachute landed them lightly outside Buffalo, New York. After shaking off, the dogs felt quite feisty. So they went to the train station and hopped aboard a train. Soon the travelers were moving swiftly down the tracks.

     "It seems to me," Big Dog suggested, once everyone settled down, "we might have been a little rough on Ted. All things considered, we owe our lives to the kid."

     All the dogs came, one by one, to thank Ted. Even Blue felt grateful for Ted's good judgment on the waterfall; but he was too embarrassed to praise him in public.

     Of course, Boz was particularly proud of his gangly ward.

     "How does it feel to be a hero, Ted?" the collie asked.

     Ted smiled humbly, and thumped his thick tail. He was pleased to have redeemed himself.

     New York City is a very busy place. The streets are full of honking automobiles, the sidewalks as crowded as an anthill. The buildings are so tall that sometimes the sky is completely obscured. There are many old stone structures, ornately decorated, standing right beside buildings built of modern materials like glass, concrete, and steel. A million smells confront one's nose, from savory streetside stands selling countless kinds of food, fruit, and flowers, mingled with carbon monoxide fumes.

     The vast variety of people present is impressive: old and young, stout and skinny, short or tall, all are on display daily in New York City. Every nationality is evident, from the American to the Zulu. Citizens from every corner of the country come to contribute in the city's rich culture, commerce, and charm. Many foreigners fly here, others arrive by boat, or bus. Another steady stream of travelers take trains into town, converging in colossal terminals, such as Grand Central Station, which is where the train containing Boz and the rest of the rescue party pulled in.

     The canines were absolutely awestruck by the architecture of the train terminal. Not even Blue had seen anything equal to it.

     Grand Central Station occupies forty-eight acres of property, most of it underground. There are thirty-four miles of railroad track running beneath the building. The task of excavating this area would have appealed to the dogs, who loved to dig holes - so much dirt was dug that it took four hundred railroad cars working every day for ten years to haul all the waste away.

     Unable to handle their excitement, all the dogs started barking at once. Even in the noisy train terminal, their bow-wow-wows attracted attention. People crowded around to see the unusual assembly of animals.

     "Look at all the doggies, Mother!" exclaimed a child.

     "There must be a circus in town," suggested a man who was wearing a tyrolian hat.

     "What are those people gawking at?" Thales demanded gruffly.

     Up strode an official of the railroad company. "No dogs allowed!" he ordered, waving a regulations manual in the air.

     But the dogs did not care one iota about the rules of the railroad. They clambered off their car, anxious to explore the massive train station.

     Acting as a tour guide, Blue led his companions across the platform crowded with commuters. The dogs were instantly absorbed into the thick throng of travelers. Although the canines did not intend to cause a commotion, their lack of manners complicated matters.

     Dash darted through the crowd, snatching sandwiches from startled spectators. Big Dog accidentally bowled over a cart containing a large load of luggage. Uneasy in large crowds, Old Rosebud jostled her way through the human horde, growling grouchily. Boz searched the sea of faces for any sign of his Master. Ted kept jumping up on people, putting his dirty paws on their clothes, licking the strangers friendily. This upset enough people that the police were summoned, who arrived, blowing whistles shrilly.

     The riot which resulted was reported in The New York Times, only the editors did not take the dogs' side, instead endorsing stricter shipping procedures of pets. Several other publications ran stories on the subject, completely missing some rather charming aspects of the occurrence.

     For instance, Blue led his fleeing friends up a flight of stairs, which turned out to be a descending escalator. The dogs looked very confused, running in place as the moving stairs worked against their efforts.

     Finally emerging from downstairs, the dogs found themselves inside a vast chamber. Grand Central Station's main concourse had a vaulted ceiling 125 feet high, on which was painted 2,500 stars (of which sixty-three are lit by electric light bulbs).

     "We've got to get outside!" Sophie, the fox, cried.

     "I thought we were outside," said Ted, staring at the ceiling.

     Followed by a mob of men, the dogs fled the train station, bursting out onto the busy sidewalks of New York City. None of them had ever heard as much noise in their lives as compared to the bustle of business on Park Avenue. All the smells of a thousand restaurants made the dogs dizzy.

     Barking boisterously, the canines ran right past the Chrysler Building, famous among skyscrapers for it's stunning Art Deco style. Many innocent people standing by had to jump aside as the renegades rushed past, pursued by determined NYC dog catchers. One man landed in a garbage can!

     By now dogs were communicating in other neighborhoods, barking messages back and forth about Boz's progress. Strays from every borough were converging on mid-Manhattan to join the rescue party. The streets and sidewalks were utter noisy chaos.

     Blue assumed command, leading his followers on a difficult path of tricky twists and turns. Changing direction, they charged down 42nd Street toward the New York Public Library, which houses one of the nation's most illustrious book collections. However, the dogs were not at all interested in reading. The hot, thirsty animals lapped water from the large fountains in Briant Park - except Ted, who stopped to sniff the pink marble lions flanking the front steps.

     But they barely had time to digest their drinks before several squad cars, with wailing sirens, converged on them. The visiting canines, whose ranks were swelling as more dogs enlisted, dispersed in the direction of Times Square.

     Although visited by millions of tourists every year, Times Square is one of the city's smallest parks and, in all accuracy, is shaped more like a triangle than a square. It is situated in the center of the city's Broadway district. There are so many bright neon lights on Broadway that they even hurt one's eyes in the daytime.

     "Good heavens!" Old Rosebud remarked.

     The sidewalks were swarming with slow moving sightseers, busy businessmen, serious shoppers, and well-dressed theater-goers; the streets were clogged with honking automobiles. It was hardly an ideal setting for so many dogs.

     The canines continued down Broadway, toward Macy's Department Store. Filling an entire city block, it is the largest department store in the entire world! But the dogs were turned away unceremoniously at the main entrance.

     They then moved further downtown, stopping only to leave their mark at the Empire State Building, which they could not resist weeing against.

     By this time many NYC Dog Patrol officers had been called to capture the canines. But Boz and his pack were in such great shape that they led the law enforcers on a wild chase through Greenwich Village, dodging in and out the dark doorways of old apartment buildings, through the asphalt streets and across the shady public parks without being caught. More and more dog catchers joined the chase, wearing stark white suits, and bearing big nets.

     At the same time, canines of every breed and description came to hinder the NYC Dog Patrol. The local dogs acted as decoys, occupying the officers so Boz's squad could continue their journey.

     Picking up speed, the dogs darted downtown, past City Hall and some vast green gardens. Then they turned west, on a beeline to the Brooklyn Bridge. Just as they reached this structure the drawbridge went up, forcing the dogs back in another direction, down Wall Street.

     When the dogs saw Wall Street they stopped dead in their tracks and gawked. No other place in the world gets as crowded as this illustrious street during rush hour, when a hundred thousand New Yorkers cause terrible traffic troubles trying to get home in a hurry. The street was lined with high skyscrapers, containing the countries greatest financial institutions. Most of the merchants were wearing crisp business suits and carrying briefcases or newspapers. Their brows were furrowed from concentrating on career concerns. The commuters were crowded together so closely that the sidewalks seemed to seethe with a steady stream of human beings.

     "What a jam!" Boz exclaimed. The collie was both astounded and appalled. "We can't go down there!"

     "We have to," Blue declared. "The Dog Patrol is after us!"

     Keeping close together, the dogs plunged headlong into the crowd. This made the animals almost invisible to their pursuers. Slowly the dogs crept through the crowd. Then a most miraculous act happened.

     One would think that the normal New Yorker would be annoyed to feel a furry stray scurrying beneath their feet, but for some reason this was not the case. The people were delighted by the dogs' descent.

     Not even The Wall Street Journal could analyze what happened on Wall Street that day. Perhaps the people were tired of their normal routine, and responded so amiably because the dogs represented a sense of adventure missing from their daily schedules. One participant commented: "This is the biggest thing to hit the Street since The Great Stock Market Crash of 1929 !"

     The sea of people parted, allowing space for the dogs to race by. The humans stood aside, waving their tyrolian hats and rooting the dogs successfully forward.

     Lots of people saw stray dogs that they thought were just right for them. Scores of strays found new homes this way that day. Isn't that nice?

     When the dog catchers brought up the rear, they were crowded out by the protective pedestrians. The blue collar workers went after the frustrated Dog Patrol, battling them with rolled up newspapers.

     This left Boz and his buddies free to run the rest of the way down Water Street to Battery Park, at the southern tip of the island. The number of dogs in the pack had swelled. Boz now found himself responsible for one hundred and seventy-nine volunteers.

     They all sprawled on a large lawn overlooking the harbor. Sophie, the white fox, unwound from around Big Dog's neck, where she had been clinging ever since leaving the train terminal!

     Boz realized the importance of moving soon, before more authorities arrived. The main problem confronting him was where to turn. The collie had come as far East as he could. They had completely crossed the country.

     The collie rotated his long nose seaward, and took a deep breath. To come so far, and still be no closer to his Master, was hard on Boz. His powerful eyes searched the shore for a sign.

     Off in the distance Boz saw a solitary figure, draped in robes, pointing her arm across the ocean. Of course, the dog's gaze was concentrated on the Statue Of Liberty, towering three hundred feet above New York Harbor, on Staten Island.

     The statue's statistics are incredible. Her right arm is forty-two feet long. Her index finger measures eight feet. Each eye is two and a half yards wide. But Boz did not know he was seeing a stupendous statue in the distance - he thought he saw an actual person standing directly before him, pointing the way.

     Boz turned to face his friends. "I think we can trust her," he said, indicating the Statue Of Liberty. "She is holding a book, as my Master often does."

     Just then, up skidded an ominous white Dog Control van. Thus alerted, Boz and the rest of the renegades jumped off the wharf and swam out to sea. They then dog paddled across the Atlantic Ocean, landing in Portugal. Although it took a very long time to swim, the crossing of the ocean occurred without incident.

16. Eurasia By Air

     Although the cats loved living on the boat with Dan, the day came when they knew it was time to leave. Since the animals could not speak, they rubbed their furry bodies affectionately against the back of the fisherman's legs to show how grateful they were to him for ferrying them across the ocean, and sorry they were to go. Simon would always wear the pretty pearl necklace to remind her of the friendly fisherman.

     The cats were in Japan, an unusual land. Pagodas, tall rickety houses made of paper, dotted the landscape. All the trees grew twisted and knotted in impossible shapes. The streets were packed with a vast, fast moving stream of streetcars, taxis, buses, bicycles, pedestrians in both Eastern and Western dress, and people pulling rickshaws. A funny, tinkling type of music could be heard, sounding like windchimes or kitchen utensils tapped together, close yet far away, adding to the Oriental atmosphere.

     Simon and Toob walked down a crowded wharf, past open stalls selling flowers, vegetables, fragrant herbs, tea, and fresh fish. All the activity scared Simon, but Toob was not at all intimidated. He pushed a path through the crowds, and his mother followed, closely and cautiously. Of course, due to all the exercise, fresh air, and fish, Toob had grown even bigger, which may have had something to do with his brave attitude.

     But not even Toob's tremendous size made much difference when, suddenly, he and his mother found themselves confronted with several sinister adversaries!

     Out of nowhere, an aggressive gang of Japanese bobtailed cats surrounded the foreigners, and began hissing insults. Obviously outnumbered, Toob and Simon stopped where they stood, arched their backs, and growled defensively. The challenging cats had husky bodies which were white with black and orange spots, and stumpy little tails, like bunny rabbits. Their leader stepped forward and, leering nastily, pointed a long claw at Toob.

     "Gleetings, stlangels," the leader sneered. Due to a curious speech characteristic of the Japanese, the cat pronounced his r's as l's.

     "Hi," Toob replied, nervously.

     Another opponent, with big buck teeth, moved in behind them and pulled at Toob's bushy tail.

     "Nyah! Nyah!" he taunted. "What a couple of crods!"

     "What's a crod?" Toob inquired, timidly.

     Rather than reply, the cat pack advanced forward, pushing the newcomers against a stack of wooden packing crates. Simon and Toob crouched uncomfortably, unable to flee, victims of the mean bullies.

     The leader started clicking his claws, which was repeated by the rest of the gang, setting a snappy rhythm from which the following song sprang:

                       "We do not like stlangels in Tok-e-o,

                       No stlangels in this town allowed;

                       Keep to your own kind if you do not mind,

                       We are a very ex-clu-sive clowd!

                       Let me be plain...

                       You are a pain;

                       We think that you

                       Belong in a zoo.

                       So lun along home and leave us alone,

                       Or we'll stomp on your little toes!"

     Toob did not take to the tune. He stood as tall as he could and strode forward.

     "Hey!" he huffed. "Let's not get personal..."

     Simon stopped her son's advance by holding the end of his bushy tail down with her paws. She knew that nothing would be accomplished by fighting.

     "Just ignore them," advised Toob's mother.

     But the big bobtailed cats were closing in, meowing meanly. There did not seem to be any escaping, when all of a sudden the stack of crates started to shake and rumble like a sleepy volcano.

     A gap opened up between the boxes, right behind Simon. Two wide green eyes peered out.

     "I am Apricot," a voice explained calmly. "Follow me!"

     Then the whole pile of packages blew apart, scattering the enemy in one direction, while Simon and Toob sprinted in another, behind a big cat the color of mustard.

     The three raced around and around, working off the fright of the fight. Gradually they slowed their pace. The yellow cat was a good guide. Simon and Toob realized that there was nothing to worry about if they stayed behind Apricot.

     Apricot definitely knew the ins and outs of Tokyo. He took the travelers deep into the city, talking like a tour director. To tell the truth, he was happy to meet emissaries from his homeland.

     "You've got to be careful here," he warned them. "Cats can get crushed in the crowds. As a general rule, avoid the humans here. Fortunately, there are not too many dogs. On the other hand, I can count the number of friendly felines I have met on one paw! Present company excepted," he hastened to add. "I shouldn't generalize."

     They came to a public park, filled with people flying kites. There were many man-made brooks with tiny, tinkling waterfalls. Apricot led Simon and Toob to a pond full of fish.

     "Help yourself," he offered.

     Simon ate two goldfish. Toob had a tender toad.

     Then the three cats came upon a huge hot air balloon anchored to a gazebo. Seeing the brightly colored object got Toob very excited. Acting on impulse, Simon's son rushed up and jumped in the basket hanging beneath the balloon.

     Apricot and Simon jumped in after him. The basket was woven of straw. Inside was a small stove, with a fire burning, to keep the cats cozy.

     "This is nice," Simon said.

     Shortly after all three cats fell asleep, the hot air balloon somehow came unconnected and drifted high in the sky. By the time the animals woke up they were well aloft over the city of Tokyo.

     The three cats had a spectacular view from the basket of the hot air balloon. From high over Tokyo Harbor the city seemed reduced to a patchwork of colorful roof tops.

     As the cats watched, the city grew smaller, dimmed by the disappearance of daylight, until all that remained of Tokyo was a distant glimmer of lights against the sunset.

     "How do we get down?" Toob casually inquired.

     Apricot laughed in amusement. "Don't worry," he said. "I know how to fly this bucket. After all, I own it."

     "How is that possible?" Simon asked, awed.

     "This is my balloon," Apricot assured the astonished passengers. "My Master is an eccentric millionaire. He built this vehicle especially for me, to aid in my search."

     "What search?" both Simon and Toob responded at the same time.

     "I am searching for my missing mate," Apricot explained seriously. "Raisin is her name. About a year ago she disappeared from our mansion. My Master knew that I could not manage without her, and outfitted this balloon for my personal use. Would you care for some caviar?" their host asked, pushing a pot of the delicacy forward.

     Simon said, "I don't believe this. What good luck we are having!"

     Then Simon told the tale of their travels, describing her own Master, and all their efforts to locate the man.

     Then it was Apricot's turn to tease, "Your story sounds like a fairy tale, too!"

     The next morning the balloonists were floating off the Asian coast, carried by a warm Japanese air current. By mid-morning the craft passed over South Korea, then floated off across the Yellow Sea, which took a terribly tedious time to transgress.

     Later, moving across Mongolia, a peculiar thing happened. Toob was on watch when a wandering white moth flew by. He swatted at the insect with one paw. Then another fluttered past, and another, and yet another, colored pink, purple, and pale yellow.

     By the time he had alerted the others, the insects had increased in number. Now there also were moths with wings of as wide a variety of colors as are contained in a child's crayon collection.

     Evidentially the balloonists had inadvertently intersected a major moth migration path. For two days and two nights the moths swarmed past, their powdered wings flapping faintly, sometimes completely enveloping the floating vehicle like a colored cloud.

     The cats stayed in the bottom of their basket, sleeping safely until the strangeness stopped.

      * * * *

     At first, when the cats noticed the snow was falling, they thought it was more moths. This, however, was no illusion. The balloon had crossed a ragged mountain range into Russia.

     "We are flying pretty low," Apricot observed. "I think the chilly air is affecting our altitude."

     "Can't we do anything?" Simon asked.

     "We might make plans to land," Toob suggested, sourly.

     Slowly the balloon descended. The ground below looked very desolate. The cats crashed in a deep drift of snow, which prevented them from being badly jarred.

     Toob had never seen snow before, and jumped out to play in it. He laid on the ground and, stretching out his front and hind legs, formed the impression of an angel in the snow. Then he kicked a clod of the cold substance at Apricot.

     "Cut it out, Toob!" the tabby snapped. "This is no time for levity."

     Simon shivered, sensing the seriousness of the situation, saying, "Darn! I wish I had a thicker coat."

     "I don't mean to alarm anyone," Apricot ventured, "but if we don't act fast, we will soon freeze just as solid as icesickles. We must be in Siberia!"

     The crash landing had extinguished the kerosene burner in the balloon, their main means of warmth. Around them loomed an icy landscape, as formidable as a dense desert. The forest floor was blanketed with a thick cover of snow. All water puddles were frozen solid. The tall bare trees looked as burdened by snow as people packing heavy parcels. Above the trees, great gray clouds gathered, giving a gloomy forecast. To add to their discomfort, the temperature was well above freezing.

     All three animals agreed that they need to keep moving in order to generate body heat. Simon, Apricot, and Toob marched around and around and around, meowing and meowing.

     For hours they marched, stopping only long enough to listen for an answer to their appeals. The more they marched the harder and slippier the path became. Their feet got sore from clutching the cold ground with their claws.

     Although the cats knew the necessity to keep moving, each completion of a circle grew harder. Each time they slipped on the hard packed snow it hurt worse than the last time. The cats' cries grew pitiful to hear.

     By the time darkness fell, only Apricot continued to call. Toob tended to Simon, who was so weary that she could hardly hold her head up.

     "Don't worry," Toob encouraged his mother. "Things may seem a little bleak right now, but..."

     Simon stumbled to her knees. Her breath came in gasps. "I cannot endure another moment," she shuddered, before collapsing to the cold, hard ground.

     "Mother!" Toob cried. "Get up! Please, Mother! Oh woe! Oh woe!"

     Apricot dashed over and knelt beside the stricken traveler. He knew she needed shelter immediately.

     "Help!" he hollered. "Someone save us! Isn't anybody out there?"

     Then, from a distance, heavy footsteps thudded toward them. Simon lifted her head feebly, to see two humans hurrying forward, holding a lantern.

     In the lamplight the cats saw two Cossack children, bundled in so much clothing that only their red noses showed. The two girls were wearing long wool coats, mink hats, mittens, several scarves, and tall leather boots; they were obviously just as astonished to see three cats and the crumbled balloon as the animals were to see them.

     The taller of the two, who was named Pasha, kneeled next to Simon. "Do not fear," she said, touching her tenderly.

     "Let's take them to our warm home," suggested her sister, Sonya.

     None of the cats knew Russian, but they could tell that the hospitality being offered them was sincere. As it turned out, the crash had not occurred in Siberia after all, but in Gorky Park, in the middle of Moscow. The girls lived in a nice neighborhood nearby. Soon the voyagers found themselves in front of a warm fireplace, fully fed, and feeling refreshed.

     Up to the moment of removing their mink caps, Pasha and Sonya had appeared to be identical twins; then the older sister released her long red hair, while Sonya revealed golden locks.

     The children decided it was best to keep the cats a secret from their parents, and smuggled the animals into their bedroom. Here the cats were happy, eating leftovers from the dinner table, and napping on pillows.

     Apricot, however, could not quite relax. He paced the space of the bedroom, cagily.

     "I must be getting soft," he scoffed. "We have done nothing but sleep and eat since we arrived. I need to hunt something!"

     To their credit, the Schraughurnaugh sisters sensed some of Apricot's anxiety, and attempted to appease him. One day, after school, Pasha and Sonya took Apricot, Simon, and Toob on a fishing expedition.

     The girls put the cats in a wicker picnic basket and carried them to the edge of a frozen lake. Without hesitating, Pasha and Sonya marched off across the frozen surface. The cats watched from the shore as the girls drilled a hole in the ice, down which they dropped a fishing line. Then they built a campfire, right on the frozen surface of the lake. By the time the fish were frying, the cats overcame their apprehension, and joined the girls on the solid surface of ice for the fish feast.

     Just the same, by the following Friday both Simon and Toob felt as restless as Apricot. The girls also had grown less enchanted as the novelty of the situation wore off, so they called their funny friend, Nickoly Fedoravich, to help them decide what to do.

     As an example of just how quirky Nickoly Fedoravich was, the youth appeared at the doorstep wearing the full regalia of a Major-General.

     Through the bedroom window, the cats watched and wondered as the girls marched Nickoly into the garage, where the deflated balloon was stashed. Then the children marched back outside and pointed their fingers in the air.

     Before they knew it, the cats were back in their basket, ready to resume flight. Nickoly Fedoravich, the person responsible for the repairs, stood to the side, at attention, like a little toy soldier; while the girls leaned inside the basket, petting the kitties good-bye. The cats breathed in the fragrant aroma of Pasha and Sonya's long dangling hair.

     After a few more farewells, the boy made one final adjustment on the heat regulator, and slowly the balloon lifted up in the air.

     The cats craned their necks to catch one last glimpse of their friends. The good sisters were running back and forth, scattering flower pedals in the air. Nickoly Fedoravich played upon a snare drum. The boy's drumroll followed the balloon as it drifted aloft, in the general direction of Portugal.

17. The Brain Police

     By the time they swam across the Atlantic Ocean, the dogs were very hungry. The rescue crew came ashore in Portugal, having just missed the British Isles in a thick fog.

     Of all the countries in the world, Portugal is one of the lesser known. The entire country is smaller than most American states. The people speak their own language which is, of course, Portuguese. The landscape is dominated by oak trees, whose thick, light bark has made Portugal the world's chief source of cork.

     All of which meant nothing to the hungry canines. They ran up and down the coastline, looking for food, but found only slimy strips of kelp. No matter how starved they felt, the dogs would not eat seaweed!

     Up on a cliff overlooking the ocean stood a huge castle.

     "If that dwelling is inhabited by humans," observed Boz, "then there is likely to be food."

     "That does not mean the inhabitants will be eager to feed us," Thales cautioned. "We can't just go up and knock on their front door."

     "That is exactly what we will do," Blue declared. "First, we must devise a disguise."

     The dogs twisted some seaweed to form a false mustache and beard for Boz to wear. The fact that the beard was green did not occur to the dogs, who were color blind.

     The collie went up to the castle door, walking on two feet, posing as a foreign ambassador. Fortunately, a stately dinner was in progress, and one guest had not arrived. Boz was promptly ushered by the butler to an empty seat beside a grand dining table.

     The dining hall itself had a vast ceiling stretching so high it seemed to disappear in the misty distance. All the walls were decorated with fabulous woven tapestries and long stained glass windows. The table was set with the finest china, sparkling crystal, gleaming silver, and a lovely linen tablecloth. The company consisted of a sinister league of lawyers, wearing expensive suits, and smoking cigars. Properly attired servants circulated the area.

     When Boz saw the spoils - piles of steaming steaks, mounds of mashed potatoes and gravy, candied yams, pasta, and other delicacies - he could not contain himself. The collie placed both front feet on the table, and put his teeth around a lamb chop.

     Before he could swallow it, a human hand slapped Boz's shoulder. The man sitting beside Boz was wearing a dark business suit which fit him too tightly.

     "Why don't you use a fork?" the man rudely remarked.

     The collie chose to ignore the impertinent question. He licked some mashed potatoes thoughtfully, trying to devise a way to sneak a snack back to his pack.

     "I think you could use a haircut," the man said, snidely.

     "Grrrr," the dog responded.

     "What's the matter, Ambassador?" the human insisted impertinently. "Cat got your tongue?"

     That was about the nastiest thing anyone could say to a dog! But before a full fledged fight broke out between Boz and his stuffy dinner partner, a dignified senior lawyer in a light blue pinstriped suit stood up, signaling for silence. Boz felt a shiver run up his spine. The man had the shiftiest eyes he had ever seen.

     The Chief of the Brain Police took a deep breath. "Gentlemen, our time is at hand. With our telepathic technology, we will reign the world! Ha! Ha! Ha!" His laughter echoes eerily in the huge hall. "We were smart to hide out in Portugal," he added, pleased with his own craftiness.

     Boz had hear enough. He started barking as loud as he could. All eyes, including the leader's evil gaze, turned in the dog's direction.

     "So, collie!" the Chief exclaimed sinisterly. "At last you reveal yourself. Your stupid disguise fooled no one!"

     Thoughts of escape raced through Boz's brain. But the instant he decided to dash to the right, a guard appeared to prevent him; as soon as he thought of another escape route, more guards prevented that move.

     "It is just as if these humans are reading my mind," Boz thought to himself.

     "That is exactly what we are doing," said the Brain Police Chief. "We are monitoring your unspoken thoughts!"

     Boz had fallen prey to a group of demented litigators with a grudge against the system. Somehow these madmen had discovered a way to actually eavesdrop on another person's thoughts. It is hard to defeat someone who know your plan almost as soon as you think it.

     "Soon!" the Brain Police Chief chortled, wringing his hands fiendishly. "There is no stopping us! We lawyers will be the law..."

     Sinister laughter erupted around the table. Guards grabbed Boz from behind and dragged the collie from the table.

     "A toast!" the chief of the Brain Police called gleefully.

     The lawyers in their suits lifted their wineglasses in salute.

     "Gentlemen!" the evil senior partner leered. "Name you own fees! Ha! Ha!! Ha!!!"

     As Boz was dragged down the long stone stairway to the dungeon, strains of the Brain Police National Anthem drifted after him. It was almost a relief to be placed in a cell, where he couldn't hear the obnoxious rap music.

     "Bon voyage, Ambassador," a guard muttered nastily, as he bolted the thick steel door from outside.

     As his eyes adjusted to the dark prison cell, Boz's keen nose detected a strangely familiar smell. The dog advanced toward a man, with a long brown beard, sitting on a plank, scribbling furiously on a notebook.

     Even with the thick whiskers all over his face, Boz knew his Master! Even wearing wilted seaweed, Alvin Egg recognized his beloved dog!

     They hugged one another and cried for a long time. Then, still stroking the collie's fur with one hand, Alvin Egg showed Boz a stack of notebooks he had filled.

     "I've written everything down," Alvin explained excitedly. "I'll expose the Brain Police for what they are."

     Alvin leaned closer to the collie. "They've got to be stopped, Boz. It's bad."

     Boz went over and scratched the massive cell door. This meant he wanted his Master to let him out.

     "Sorry, boy. I can't let you out now," Alvin Egg sighed, and, picking up a pen, returned to his writing.

     Outside the castle, Blue, Ted, Thales, Big Dog, and all the others were worried. They knew Boz should have returned by now.

     "I smell trouble," Big insisted.

     "Now, calm down," Blue assured everyone. "I will take Ted to take a look. We'll be right back."

     Being very careful, Blue and Ted snuck up on the castle. The dogs intended to sneak a look in a back window, but before they knew what was happening, the Brain Police apprehended both of them.

     As the guards hauled the struggling dogs down the dungeon stairs, Blue growled to Ted, "This is embarrassing! How did we get caught so fast? Have you ever had the feeling that someone knows your next move even before you do?"

     They were thrown in the same cell as Alvin and Boz. Ted went wild when he saw his Master, and squealed with joy.

     "Is this Ted?" Alvin Egg asked, petting the big black animal before him. "You've grown up, Ted. The puppy only shows in your eyes!"

     Ted shook his head happily, basking in the warmth of his Master's praise. Then he remembered the seriousness of the situation and stood up straight and tall, on alert, as Blue had taught him. Alvin marveled at Ted's long black ears, both of which pointed upward, forming a flattering profile.

     The next attack on the castle was waged by Dash and Flash. Unfortunately, neither the great speed or the amazing vaulting abilities of the twin Dalmatians did any good against the Brain Police.

     Ellie and Old Rosebud, being pacifists, did not want to fight anybody. They decided to try the white flag approach. But the Brain Police threw them in the klink with the others, anyway.

     Meanwhile, Thales and the remaining dogs were digging a tunnel leading under the fortress. The excavation went fast, due to the number of dogs, and their dedicated diligence. The aid and advice of Sophie, the fox, helped the construction considerably. Naturally, the Brain Police were aware of their activity, and apprehended the invaders when they surfaced inside.

     By now the prison cell was getting crowded. Big Dog was the last to remain free. It took the Brain Police a long time to capture Big; even though they could read his thoughts, they could not match the strength of his huge body. Big Dog broke through their thickest nets like they were cobwebs. He led the humans on long chases across the countryside, moving with the stamina of a stallion.

     Eventually, using helicopters, the Brain Police overpowered Big Dog, delivering him to the prison cell, wearing a leather muzzle over his snout.

     Boz and the others stared with horror at the muzzle. There is nothing a dog dreads more than a muzzle. The Brain Police perceived this, naturally.

     "Let this be a warning!" the guards threatened. "We have enough muzzles for every one of you!"

     After the guards withdrew, Alvin took the horrible harness from Big's head and pitched it in the darkest corner of the cell. Then he gave each dog a pat on the head.

     "At least we are all together," Alvin observed, optimistically.

     Later that night, after all the canines were captured and confined, a big balloon drifted silently past the castle walls. None of the guards heard it land. By the time the landing was discovered the following morning, the basket beneath the deflated balloon was empty of passengers.

     The castle was massive, with vast vaulted ceilings supported by polished marble columns. Everything was constructed of sculpted stone and varnished timber. Stained glass windows let in streams of light.

     The cats tiptoed past the entrance to the dining hall, where the Brain Police were breakfasting on buckwheat pancakes slathered in syrup and stacks of steaming Spam. Because the Brain Police could read one anothers minds, they never had to ask aloud when they wanted the butter passed. So the only sounds at the table were chewing noises. It was rather revolting.

     The cats continued down a windy stone stairway into the castle's deep, dark dungeon. It got so pitch black that the cats eyes glittered like cut gems.

     Now, besides being small and smart, there was another reason the cats could pass across enemy lines so effortlessly. Everyone knows it's impossible to tell what a cat is thinking.

     Soon Simon, Toob, and Apricot sat underneath a big Bishop's bench occupied by two guards outside the prison cell containing Alvin Egg and all 180 dogs, and put their heads together.

     Inside the cell, dogs sprawled all over the stone floor. Their empty stomachs sometimes gurgled. Alvin Egg moved among the canines, cleaning cuts and removing burrs from their fur. The human hummed. At least we are all together, he thought, optimistically.

     Simon leaped silently to a windowsill, climbed through a broken pane, leaped from balcony to balcony, walked along a little ledge, climbed up a rain gutter, scaled a wall, and slipped between the bars of the only window in Alvin Egg's cell. Silhouetted in the window, Simon's sinister shadow quite captured the captives' attention.

     Tears of joy and relief rolled down Alvin Egg's cheeks as he hugged the purring cat. He had been terribly worried about his cats' welfare since being abducted.

     The dogs viewed the reunion dispassionately. They did not understand why the feline species had such an intoxicating effect on Homo sapiens.

     Ellie heard the two guards approaching before the others, and woofed a warning. When the Brain Police swung open the door to the prison cell, Alvin and all the animals pretended to be sleeping. Several snored.

     "You don't fool us!" one of the guards sneered. "We're mind readers!!!"

     Yet the mind readers didn't see Toob and Apricot sneak in behind them. All the guards knew was, one second they were standing there tormenting their captives, and the next thing they knew two fearsome felines were scratching and biting them, while the dogs dashed out the door!

     Pandemonium ensued. Hundreds of enforcement’s, summoned by telepathic power, attempted to overpower the prisoners. The animals ran up and down the stone staircases, chased back and forth by the Brain Police, who anticipated any evasive action before it even happened. The dogs dodged around the dungeon, their barking echoed loudly down the long labyrinth of corridors..

     There were other prisoners also held captive by the Brain Police, and they were all yelling from their cells, adding to the chaos; among them were world leaders, noted sociologists, industry giants, a few famous actors, as well as some ordinary people, who all wanted out, too.

     Boz and Blue fought bravely at the front of the dogs' attack formation, aided by Big Dog, Thales, and Ted, who had grown as big and strong as anyone else.

     The dogs fought very hard, but the Brain Police, having the advantage of mind control, were rapidly rounding up the escapees. They were so nasty that they booted the captured canines in the behind, pulled their tails and ears, and whacked their big noses, all actions which should never be inflicted on dogs.

     The prisoners were herded into a courtyard, completely enclosed by high stone walls. A hideous sight assaulted them there. The Brain Police had erected a dog kennel! The idea of being confined behind barbed wire fences didn't appeal to the dogs - they all yelped in alarm.

     All of a sudden, Ted's ears pricked up, as if from some other calling. Then Ted took off! Running so fast that his ears flattened against his head, the black dog streaked across the cobblestone courtyard like a rocket. Around and around he ran. No one, not even the Brain Police, could tell what Ted was doing.

     Ted tore around the yard, faster and faster, sniffing softly. He started circling around one spot, spinning like a whirlwind, and before anybody knew what was happening, Ted tore some cobblestones loose and started digging.

     Dirt flew in all directions as Ted tunneled. The Brain Police did not know what to make of it. Try as they might, they could not read Ted's thoughts. That is because the puppy’s brain was so small that there was nothing for them to read.

     Ted tunneled straight down to the magma layer of the earth. Without warning, a huge, hot geyser of molten lava erupted from the ground. Rather than stand there gawking like the stupid Brain Police did, Alvin and all the animals moved to a safe distance, to watch the fireworks.

     The lava came down, completely covering the bad guys, making solid stone statues of their likenesses. And that was the end of the Brain Police!

     As the lava cooled, and the dogs all danced around the stone statues with delight, Alvin Egg realized something was not quite right.

     "Ted!" he called. "Here, boy!"

     Everyone stopped celebrating, and waited for Ted to topple forward, flopping his ears comically. But it didn't happen. Ted was nowhere around...

...some more

     The whole world welcomed back Alvin Egg and his amazing animal entourage with parades and award ceremonies. Being treated as famous heroes was different than any of them had ever been treated. For instance, there was a state dinner at the White House held especially in their honor, where each dog sat on a chair at a long table set with elegant china usually reserved for heads-of-state, attended by butlers, while the cats sat directly on the table, with individual saucers of cream, between Alvin Egg and the President of the United States.

     "You did well, Alvin," the President conceded. "I thank you, the whole country thanks you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!"

     There truly was cause for celebration. Besides being heroes, Alvin Egg was cured of his writer's block, and sold his first manuscript to a publisher for an astonishing advance. (Which is, in fact, the very book that you are reading right now!) He had enough money to buy a big farm in Oregon for all his pets to populate, while he wrote more books.

     But Ted's absence badly bothered everyone. Boz was the most distraught. The collie could not be commiserated over the loss of such a close companion.

     Blue seemed subdued as well. He wished he had shown Ted how much he really liked him, instead of acting like such a hot shot. To the surprise of all, Blue stayed on the farm, with Sophy, his mate. "My traveling days are over," he told everyone.

     So, life settled down to normal. Even though a few of the travelers went home to their own Masters, there was still quite a crowd. The dogs were free to roam Alvin's vast acreage to hunt, or play. The cats were happy; Apricot suspended his search for Raisin indefinitely, staying with Simon and Toob.

     Although TIME magazine printed Ted's picture on their cover as "Dog Of The Year", the victory seemed shallow, somehow, without him.

     One afternoon, all the dogs were sitting in front of the farm house. The pleasant aroma of autumn filled the air. A few bees buzzed around.

     Suddenly, all of the hairs stood up on Boz's spine.

     The shape of Blue's tail changed from a question mark to an exclamation mark.

     Ellie's sensitive ears started receiving a strange signal.

     When who should walk up but Ted!

     "Ted, is that you?" Boz barked. "Am I seeing a ghost?"

     "It's really me!" Ted laughed, shaking his head happily. "I'm so glad to be home."

     The noise that the joyous canines created, celebrating the return of their comrade, brought Alvin Egg rushing outside, followed by the cats.

     "What is happening?" the human asked.

     When Alvin saw Ted he began blubbering. Everyone jumped all over him. Simon even consented to one of Ted's slobbery kisses.

     "Tell me, Ted," Blue asked, with admiration in his voice. "Where did you disappear to? We thought you were goners."

     "I wasn't dead," Ted said. "I traveled through the center of the earth."

     All the dogs became very excited at this announcement. "Tell us about it, Ted," they begged.

     Ted laid down on the lawn, and yawned. "Let's save that story for another time," he suggested sleepily. "Right now, I am dog tired."

     True to his word, Ted soon started snoring softly.