Time’s measured in meals, in solitary yard breaks, in the lights flicking on and off. Hamish inhales the meat and gravy in the cage opposite mine. His choking pulls me away from staring at my usual dry biscuits. I pad closer to the bars, gauging whether to call for help while he hacks; my lips part. The food dislodges, and he licks the bowl clean. He whines and resumes pacing, his shaggy coat brushing a circle into the concrete.
Heavy footfall echoes on the row. The clank of bolts and squeak of hinges. In the end, most go without a fuss; otherwise, the restraints go on. Hamish’s eyes lock onto mine, making my heart ache worse than my body. It’s the last look he burns into me as they take him down the long walk. His cries cut off, leaving nothing but buzzing.
The boots return. More this time. They spread out, preparing the cages for new arrivals, taking a wide berth of mine. Every time someone gets too close, I snap at them.
The warden approaches. “Is Oscar ready?”
A snarl escapes me when the one carrying Hamish’s scent reaches in to remove my bowl.
He straightens. “He needs more time.”
“Gary—”
“I know. I’ll get him ready.”
There’s a low rumble building deep inside me, and before I release it, Gary presses the button. Yard break.
I turn for the hatch, bolt from my cage, and head for the weak spot in the fence. I’m clawing a hole in the dirt when a little voice in the distance makes my ears prick.
“Mummy, why do they never pick me?”
“The right one hasn’t found you yet.”
People pass beyond the fence to the nearby car park. With each vehicle starting up, I dig faster.
“Oscar.”
I bare my teeth at Gary.
“Mummy, look, it’s a sheep dog.” A little boy tugs his mother this way. “Aw, he’s smiling.”
The breeze wafts their clothing. I close my eyes and breathe in warm wool, hay and sweet grass after rain. I ease back into a stillness I haven’t felt since before the headlights.
“Moira.” The boy’s mother flags her down.
She jogs over, clutching a clipboard. “Oh, I wouldn’t get too close.”
The boy stiffens. “Why not?”
“He isn’t friendly.”
I growl at Moira.
She frowns at me, then her face softens. “Thank you for coming. Will we see you at the next one?”
His mother holds him tighter, but nods. “Come on, Joey, say goodbye to Moira.”
“Bye, Moy-ruh.” He gives me a little wave. “Bye-bye, doggy.”
Gary’s been watching me the whole time. “His name’s Oscar.”
Joey whispers to his mother as they stroll to their car. “He’s perfect.”
“It’s not our choice, baby.”
Joey’s glance back jolts me into the hole.
Gary claps. “Stop that.”
Dirt’s flying.
Their engine hums away. If I keep going, I can still reach them.
A sharp toot makes me freeze.
I wheel from my tunnel and make myself big. There’s no wire between us.
The whistle glints between Gary’s lips; he pinches it, and for a split second it looks like a cigarette. The marks hidden beneath my fur burn. Before I can stop it, the rumble tears free, rolling out of me like thunder.
He makes no attempt to restrain me, to silence me, to put me in my cage. Instead, he holds the space between us, waiting for me to get it out of my system.
My voice loses strength. The sharp edges of my defences weaken. I slump in the grass.
“Oscar.” He steps toward the gate, without taking his eyes off me, then slides the bar across. “Let’s go for a walk.”
I’m up and over to him in a flash, eager to get out of the yard, but he unhooks the rope hanging from his belt. I shrink.
“I have to put this on.” He holds up the loop. It’s coated in the oils of every neck it’s been around. The cord slips over my head, and I flinch when Gary touches the knot. “All done.”
It’s loose.
Once we’re out of the gate, I’m by his side, matching his stride. He never tugs me close, just leaves the gap I’ve created between us. I keep checking his grip on the lead, wondering when my breath will be stolen from me. It doesn’t happen.
Nor does it the next time, or the time after that.
Day after day: Biscuits. Yard breaks. Gary. Lights.
I’m listening for a familiar hum among the engines filling the car park when a metallic clatter echoes along the row. The rich scent of beef pulls me from my hatch. I pad to the bars, stomach grumbling. The bowl slides through.
Meat and gravy.
I sit. One last time.
Bile rises, and I swallow it down.
Every heavy footstep makes me tremble, but I dare not move.
Shadows appear, and my chest squeezes; Gary’s brought the warden.
When the bars part, I fight the instinct to run. The rope’s in Gary’s hand, the loop ready for my neck. I suppress a whimper and hold firm as it slips over my head.
The warden nods.
“Walk on.” Gary’s foot shifts; I raise and turn onto the row. The warden falls into step behind us.
Each cage reveals a face I haven’t been given a chance to know. Their eyes follow me on my long walk, but there’s only one set I keep coming back to.
The light’s brighter on the other side. Quieter too.
Moira lifts her gaze from behind a desk. Her hand reaches beneath it. The doors ahead buzz open, flooding my nose with the scent of bodies.
I press against Gary when I see them. They all look like they’re sleeping upright. The warden closes us in, but waits at the door, leaving us to wander around the room. No one raises their head.
Gary frees me from the rope and steps back. “Break.”
I search for another exit, taking a wide berth of a person covered in cigar smoke. There’s only one way in. I return to it and sit.
The warden mutters to Gary, “Take him around again.”
We complete our slow parade, and I hover by the door.
Gary slips the lead back on me. The moment the doors part, I’m pulling him toward the row. I’m about to cross the threshold when Moira’s voice carries across the room, “It’s open, Fiona.”
There’s a whoosh of sweet air. “Moy-ruh.”
I double-take.
Fiona follows after her son. “Sorry, we’re late.”
Barks, howls and whines come from the row, making everyone look our way.
Joey sucks in a hard breath, drops and sits cross-legged, bowing his head.
Fiona crosses her hands over her heart. “Is he?”
“We will see.” Gary removes the rope and whispers, “You know what to do.”
I glance along the row; my cage is at the end. To the warden, whose mouth is turned up on one side. To Gary. I nose bop his leg, then turn away from the one place I’ve known for all these days.
Moira and Fiona are holding hands, standing a few steps away from Joey. I edge closer, then lower to my belly. I crawl a little at a time toward him.
“Mummy?”
“It’s okay, baby.”
He’s shaking, so I take it slow. When I get to him, his eyes are shut tight. I rest my head in his lap and whine.
“Oscar?” He opens his eyes, one at a time. His lips turn down, and his nose starts to run.
Fiona places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Joey.”
A tear rolls down his cheek, landing on my face. He wraps his arms around my neck and buries his head against my shoulder. Between chokes, he manages to get out, “He chose me.”