Scout: A tail of Babylon Gardens

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter selection:

Chapter 1 ‎ | Chapter 11 | Chapter 21
Chapter 2 ‎ | Chapter 12 | Chapter 22
Chapter 3 ‎ | Chapter 13 | Chapter 23
Chapter 4 ‎ | Chapter 14 | Chapter 24
Chapter 5 ‎ | Chapter 15 | Chapter 25
Chapter 6 ‎ | Chapter 16 | Chapter 26
Chapter 7 ‎ | Chapter 17 | Chapter 27
Chapter 8 ‎ | Chapter 18
Chapter 9 ‎ | Chapter 19
Chapter 10| Chapter 20


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Chapter 1: Open range

Clouds drifted lazily through the sky as the Wyoming winds gently rustled the grasses through the fields. Boulders stood here and there, breaking up the landscape, offering great vantage points to view the babbling creek, the mountain views, the edges of the trees, and the golden grasses.
A slipshod fence stood just before the treeline, marking the edge of the territory with its wooden posts leaning against each other, going around the entire field and then back up and over the hill. Just at the top of the hill, barely visible from here in the valley, stood the silo and barn; just beyond, down the hill a ways, sat the house.
Sheep grazed peacefully inside the fence, munching the sweet, ripe grasses. This field was too rocky, too uneven, to be cleared for planting, so it had instead been planted with the best grasses for the sheep to eat, sweet-smelling and juicy and rarely going to seed before it had reached at least a foot tall.
Perched atop a rock, not too far from the flock, sat a border collie, his red bandana covering a plain gray collar and tag shaped like a straw hat. He had a simple black and white fur pattern, his decently fluffy fur blowing in the breeze as he allowed himself a moment with his eyes shut, tilting his head back to let the wind cool under his neck. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again and scanned the landscape, looking over his sheep and counting them once more.
Fifty, eighty, one-ten, one-twenty-five, one-twenty-seven. All there. He picked up his staff, little more than a crooked stick, and slung his bag over his shoulder, jumping down off the rock and darting to another one. The herd barely even looked up at him as he mounted the rock and looked down at them.
He grinned happily as he counted once more, naming each of the sheep as he did. He knew each one by name, by sight, by scent… these were his sheep, he’d been with them since he was a pup, his whole life for some of them, and their whole life for others. This was what he was born for. This was what he loved doing.
Something caught his eye. Not movement, so much as… not movement. He stared just beyond the fence at the patch of grass that didn’t sway in the wind quite the same as the rest of the grass. Almost like something was stopping it. Without removing his eye from the spot, Scout reached into his bag and withdrew a long, leather cord, made of multiple strips of leather wound together, with a wider, spoonlike piece in the middle.
When the patch moved, coming closer, Scout narrowed his eyes. A quick flash of gray fur darted up to the fence. Scout moved closer, jumping from his rock to sheep, sheep to another sheep, quickly and silently. The sheep he jumped to barely even noticed him; he was light on his foot, and he did this all the time, so they weren’t worried. Once he was downwind of the suspicious spot, Scout reached into his bag again and withdrew a single clear marble. He inspected it for blemishes quickly; now was not the time to use a cracked marble and have it explode before it could do its job.
Another flash of gray fur, closer to the herd this time. Scout narrowed his eyes and loaded the marble in the slingshot, winding it up slowly, letting it out as it went faster and faster until it hummed from the strap displacing air so rapidly. Coyote. They never learned, did they? Scout raised his slingshot to aim, and-

-Banged his hand into the door of Paw’s truck, causing a short, sharp burst of pain and waking Scout from his dream. He winced and rubbed his hand, pinning his ears back and sitting up. It was nearly nighttime, outside the truck window. The air smelled funny, and he didn’t like it. He looked in the seat next to him, at the bag containing his slingshot and shot. All that was left of the farm where he’d grown up.
The new owners hadn’t even waited for the old owners to leave town before they’d started to demolish buildings to put up new-fangled technological machine doodads. Scout had had the misfortune to see the barn get knocked down as they drove past and out of town.
Ma peeked back at him, then passed back a food bag from some fast food place. “Here, Scout, now you’re awake, we got you some dinner when we stopped. It’s probably still somewhat warm, if you hurry up and eat it.”
Scout accepted the bag and forced a smile. Keep smiling, no matter what. Ma and Paw need you to. “Thanks, Ma. Ah’ll be sure t’ eat it quick, then.” He opened the bag and unwrapped the burger inside. It was pretty good, a little greasy and stone cold, but good. He ate it thankfully, his empty stomach happily accepting the food. After nearly two days straight in Paw’s truck, Scout was itching to get out and run around, but he knew it was impossible. They were racing the movers, after all. Gotta clean the new house before the furniture arrived, and Ma’s new job started the day after tomorrow, so they couldn’t be late.
Ma looked back. “We’re entering River Ridge now, so it’ll only be about twenty minutes before we’re there. Then you can stop fidgeting and run around awhile before bedtime. Okay, Scout?”
Scout nodded quietly. Had he really been fidgeting that much? “Yes, ma.” Force a smile. Be happy. Don’t think about the sheep. He looked down at his slingshot bag again, rubbing a thumb over a small series of red stains on one side of the leather. He remembered the fight that had put them there. They still smelled faintly of blood. He smiled fondly at the bag and opened it up to peek inside. There was his slingshot, coiled neatly on top. Inside was a mix of marbles, river rocks, and small metal balls.
The truck slowed and turned, then went through a series of turns in a row before stopping. The engine powered off. Paw cleared his throat and spoke in that deep, gravely voice of his. “We’re there. Everybody out.”
Ma stepped lightly out of the car and opened the back door for Scout, since the child lock was engaged to keep him from opening the doors. Scout climbed out, clutching his shot bag, and looked up at the house. It was blue, unfamiliar, and strange. A garage opened onto the driveway, with a porch to one side- a swing was already installed, but definitely needed the cushions cleaned. There was a second story, Scout could see, with a big window looking out over the yard just over the garage.
Ma was what one might expect of a country woman- tan skin, hair done up in a tight bun- a few streaks of gray starting to sneak in, but otherwise brown and shiny like fresh chocolate- blue jeans and a plaid button-down shirt, over her boots, so she could move about easily. Eyes as blue as a summer sky.
Paw, likewise, looked as one might expect- light brown hair, like the dust that blows up during a windstorm, moving around to his chin as a scruffy beard, all with streaks of gray starting to sneak in. He wore his suspenders over his plaid shirt and blue jeans- just like his Paw had done, and HIS Paw before him. His eyes were brown, the color of a pumpkin pie.
The air in this new neighborhood smelled strange- it took Scout a few minutes to realize that what he was smelling wasn’t that there WAS a strange smell, but rather that there WASN’T a smell- there wasn’t a trace of manure smell in the air, nor hay, nor the musky scent of horses, cows, sheep, chickens- any livestock at all. Scout pinned his ears back, looking around. He spotted a pair of eyes watching him from the window across the street, but they retreated as soon as they saw him look their way. He moved around to the back of Paw’s truck to help unload. Not much had been brought along- Ma and Paw’s bedframe, Ma’s vacuum and mop, various other cleaning supplies, and a basket with Scout’s name on it- a large one, with a big cushion sewn right into it, and a blanket with it.
Scout knew what the basket was, of course- it was his new bed. He carried it in and placed it in front of the fireplace as instructed, standing back and looking at it distastefully. This house smelled like dust and stale air. He didn’t like it. He went back out to the truck and dutifully unloaded the lighter stuff while Ma and Paw unloaded their bedframe, setting it aside and laying the mattress on the floor in their new bedroom for now. It was late by now, no time for setting up furniture, and beside that, they still had to clean the house first.
Scout climbed into his basket and lay there, hugging his knees and staring at his shot bag. He could hear Ma and Paw setting up their bed. Then, the lights went out, and the house went silent. Scout was left in his basket, awake. Sleep didn’t come. Scout hated the basket. He wanted his old bed, the pile of hay up in the loft. This house was too quiet. He listened for any sound. He could hear the refrigerator running, now that Paw had plugged it in; the water heater was getting started with its duties; they’d have to run the water for a while tomorrow to get the old stale water out of the pipes. Scout gave a little whimper. He missed hearing the horses and the cows breathing as they slept, occasionally making little noises. He missed hearing his sheep in the distance, in their protected pen.
“No cryin’, Scout. No need fer cryin’...” He whispered to himself, blinking back some tears. “Yer a sheepdog. You fight coyotes, wolves, and mountain lions. You don’t cry.” The tears kept threatening to come, and he blinked them back. “Sheepdogs are too tough t’ cry. YE’RE too tough t’ cry.” He kept fighting back the tears and an occasional weak sob, staring off into the darkness until finally it engulfed him, and he fell asleep, curled up in his new bed and dreaming of his missing flock.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I think that you have made a good start with this story so far! I can't wait to see what else you are gonna post!

[NHWestoN]

Wait'til he meets the neighbors! Good start.

[CunningFox]

Strong start. Looking forward to seeing where it goes.

Funnily enough, I've got a dog named Scout.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I honestly think he will get along well with Fox and Bailey as they have both been brought up on farms. Maybe they will help him to acclimate to his new home.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

A bonus chapter this week, because I had it ready and I have no patience.

Chapter 1
Chapter 2: You are here
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7

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Chapter 2: Moving in

Scout dodged around the movers, helping to point them to where their various boxes and furniture needed to go. His shot bag was slung over his shoulder and hanging at his hip. All day yesterday had been spent cleaning; he’d vacuumed the whole floor six times, scrubbed the bathtub and toilets, and done anything he could to help. He’d been woken up this morning by the sound of the movers arriving, and had so far been helping Paw direct them the whole day while Ma was at work. Scout took a moment to wonder how she’d got there, since Paw’s truck was still here.
One of the movers stepped on his paw, and he yelped, darting out of the way. “That goes upstairs, t’ the left!”
It took the movers until noon to move all their stuff in and leave, so that meant that Scout didn’t have a chance to eat until then. No big deal, he’d had to skip breakfast before. He sat across from Paw on a folding chair, sitting at a folding table, picking at his burger. Just a few days ago, fast food had been a rare treat, but after nearly four days of eating it exclusively, Scout was kind of tired of it.
Paw watched him. He wasn’t much one for talking, but he could tell Scout wasn’t really enjoying the process of moving. To be fair, who did? He cleared his throat. “Scout, how you likin’ the new house?”
Scout looked up at Paw. I hate it and I want to go home, he wanted to say. But this WAS home now. And Paw wouldn’t be sympathetic for tears. Hadn’t been when Scout was a pup, anyway. Force a smile. Act excited. “It’s great, Paw. Ah can’t wait ‘til we’re all set up.”
Paw eyed Scout. He was putting on a brave face, but Paw was smarter than that. Of COURSE he didn’t like it. At least, not yet. Scout had been raised on a farm, with acres of land to run around in and a flock of sheep to tend since he was barely more than a pup. He could see the homesickness in the dog’s eyes. He felt it a bit himself; he’d been running that farm since he was a young man. But, broke is broke, and he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He and Ma had no kids to pass the farm to, or at least none that wanted it, so it had been sold, and the livestock sold off to the neighbors. “... Good. Yer job’s gonna be to unpack, say, at least two boxes per day, until they’re all unpacked. Take stuff out, find a place fer it t’ live, fold th’ boxes flat an’ lay ‘em in a stack somewhere fer us t’ take care of.” He gave a firm nod and returned to his food.
“Yes, Paw.” Scout nodded quietly and finally took a bite of his burger. The grease didn’t taste as good as it used to. He sighed and put it down, washing down the bite with a drink of water. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Focused on lunch. Paw didn’t want to hear his worries, he wanted his dog to be obedient and quiet.
Sheepdogs are tough. I’m tough. Too tough for tears.
“After lunch, I want ye t’ check out th’ backyard. Clean up any trash ye find, sweep off th’ deck, rake th’ leaves.”
“Yes, Paw.”
He ruffled his ears with a smile. “Yer a good boy, Scout. Remember that.”
“Yes, Paw.”

Ten minutes later found Scout in the backyard with a trash bag, picking up and throwing away months’ worth of blown-around trash that had gotten trapped in the bounds of the privacy fence. He sighed. This moving stuff was hard work, and not the fun kind he was used to. He could hear Paw putting the dishes away in the kitchen through the open window.
Scout’s cleaning revealed patches of yellow grass where the sun had been blocked, dead flower beds, and various bugs. He tied off the full bag and put it aside. They didn’t have a bin yet, so there wasn’t anything else to do with it.
He sighed and sat on the deck stairs, looking out over the yard. It was cleared out now- the yellow patches had started to fade already in the sunlight, the leaves were gone, and he’d swept off the porch.
“Paw?” Scout put his ears back, pausing at the door. He’d never been BANNED from entering the house, not exactly, but he had never really cared for being indoors. He was more of an outside dog. He found Paw resting against the wall with his hand on his back, the way he had been doing the past year or two when he’d been working too hard. Scout flinched; it was a reminder of one of the reasons they were here now in the first place. Paw wasn’t as young as he used to be. “Paw, ah’ve finished with th’ backyard. What else do ya need me doin’?”
Paw gave Scout a little dismissive wave. “Y’er good fer th’ day, Scout. We got plenty ‘a time t’ get unpacked. Why don’t ya go an’ explore th’ neighborhood, see if y’ can make any new friends?”
Scout hesitated. “Uh.. yes, Paw… Ah can… explore.. Ah suppose…” He slung his slingshot bag over his shoulder and wandered out the front door. The eyes across the street disappeared when he looked at them again. He put his ears back and started walking along the sidewalk.
There was a wolf in a leather jacket walking down the street toward him. He had his slingshot out and a marble loaded before he even realized what he was doing, the sling whirring to a gentle hum of displaced air as he wound it up. The wolf glanced at him, giving him a glare as if daring him to, then turned and walked up to a house. The mailbox read “Wolf House.” Scout watched her go inside, then let his slingshot wind down and put it away. There were wolves living here? This place was weird.
None of the neighborhood pets seemed too interested in meeting Scout, not that Scout was interested in meeting them. Soft, lazy, squishy housepets that wouldn’t know a day’s work if it bit them on the tail. He scowled at a tan corgi with his half-husky puppies playing ball in a yard. Bet HE never had to deal with any kind of real stress in his life. Just sunshine and rainbows and playtime, all the time.
He huffed and kept wandering around. How long did he have to stay out before Paw wanted him back in the house? Or should he even GO back in? He could just stay outside, in the backyard and… do what? Shoot his slingshot at the fence? Smell the flowers? What did housepets even DO?
A few moments later, horror struck him. ‘Wait a second… I’M a housepet now!’ He made a disgusted noise and turned right back around to head back to the house. Maybe Paw would have more work for him. Maybe there was something he could guard. ANYTHING to keep him from becoming soft like.. Like… He glanced around for an example, spotting a white husky with a yellow bandana. Like HIM.
Scout’s horror faded into sorrow as he walked up the steps to the house. This wasn’t home. This wasn’t HOME. It was a house. Home was in Wyoming… but, no it wasn’t. He’d seen the barn get destroyed with his own eyes. Home was gone. Forever.
Scout sat on the porch and scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. He could feel tears trying to force their way onto his face. Paw wouldn’t cry though, would he? No, Paw was tough. He tried to picture the big man with his grizzled beard streaked with gray, crying. He couldn’t. It just looked wrong. What would Paw say if he saw Scout now, fighting back tears? Scout shakily impersonated Paw out loud. “What’re you cryin’ fer? You got a roof over yer head, a warm place t’ sleep, an’ food in yer belly! There’s no call fer tears! Buck up! You call yerself a sheepdog?!”
The impersonation cheered Scout up for a few moments, and he smiled at his impression. It was pretty good, he thought; he’d even managed to get Paw’s gruff tone just right. But then he remembered WHY he had been impersonating Paw, and his face fell. Because he was sad, fighting off tears. Because home was gone. His sheep were gone. And Ma and Paw had dragged him halfway across the country, to this place full of pets, made HIM a pet. And it wasn’t home, probably would never BE home, and felt all wrong.
Scout sucked in a deep breath, held it for a few moments, and then whispered to himself. “Ah have a roof over mah head, a warm place t’ sleep, an’ food in mah belly. There’s no call fer tears. Ah have a roof over mah head, a warm place t’ sleep, an’ food in mah belly. No call fer tears. No call fer tears…” He curled up, hugging his legs and letting his tail cover his toes, leaning on the porch’s support post and repeating it to himself over and over and over again.

[Chieris]

That is a very nice chapter, I'm definitely looking forward to see Scout's interactions with the pets of Babylon Gardens

[Amazee Dayzee]

One thing I want to ask is if Scout only dealt with the sheep. Or did he also work with the other animals and did other chores (like scooping up cow manure)?

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3: You are here
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7

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Chapter 3: Home Alone

Ma gently shook Scout awake, running her hands through his fur. Scout sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking at her. “... Ma? ‘S there a problem?” He looked around quietly.
Ma shook her head. “No, I just wanted to let you know I was leaving for work, and Paw is already gone. I didn’t want you to wake up and be home alone without knowing it.” She stroked his head lovingly. “You can go back to sleep, if you like. Be a good boy for me today?”
Scout nodded, leaning into her for a hug. “Ah love ya, Ma. Have a good day at work fer me?”
“Mm. Of course. Go on back to sleep now.” She kissed his head, giving his ears one final stroke before standing up and heading toward the door.
Scout watched Ma go, listening to her locking the door before laying back down. He didn’t go back to sleep; he couldn’t. He listened to the hollow sounds of the house. None of Paw’s snoring, no sounds at all other than the fridge and the heater. He sat up again. The silence sat in his gut like a rock, unnerving and uncomfortable. Why did Ma have to wake him up to tell him he was all alone?
He knew in his head it was because she was worried that he would panic if he woke up and found nobody there, and maybe she was right, but now he couldn’t go back to sleep. After nearly an hour of trying, Scout sighed and climbed out of his basket, tucking the loose corner of his blanket back into the basket before he sighed and wandered the house once. He was really all alone. His tail went between his legs.
Back on the farm, he had never really been all alone. Sure, he was often the only person in sight, but he’d had a little whistle he could blow if he ever needed anything, and someone working in a nearby field would come to check on him. He’d never been ACTUALLY alone.
After contemplating the implications for a while, he decided that there was nothing to be done for it and went to the kitchen. He was old enough that he shouldn’t NEED supervision, after all, he was sixteen, a fully-grown border collie, and a trained sheepdog. He dug his bowl out of the pile of clean dishes, went to the cupboard, and filled it with kibbles before taking it to the table.
It was odd to him, being able to eat his breakfast in peace. Back on the farm, he’d always been in a rush to get the sheep out to pasture, so he’d always brought his breakfast with him, usually in the form of a sandwich or some other portable food. He ate his kibbles in silence, the sound of them crunching filling the empty air. TOO QUIET.
He put his bowl in the sink and stomped off upstairs. Picked a room. Started unpacking boxes. Still too quiet. He pinned his ears back and growled in frustration. Why did the quiet bother him so much? He finished unpacking three boxes, then stomped outside and sat on the porch.
He closed his eyes and listened to the wind in the trees, the birdsong, the gentle sounds of suburban life. Better. Not great, but better.
After a while, Scout gave a bored grumble. He fetched his slingshot bag and did a few laps of the front and back yard, looking around for danger. That took up a good fifteen minutes. Only… six hours to go, before Paw would be back from work. He sighed heavily and took off, roaming the neighborhood from sheer boredom.

Martha Edwards got off the bus and started walking home. It was her second day at her new job, and her feet were killing her from the shoes they made her wear at the factory. She was glad to be back in her well-worn boots. George’s truck was in the driveway as she approached; good, he probably had supper about ready.
“George, I’m home!” She called as she stepped inside the house and started unlacing her shoes. “Scout, sweetie? You here?”
“He ain’t. Ain’t seen ‘im, neither.” George’s gruff voice sounded as he approached. “He’s prob’ly out, exploring th’ neighborhood. Been alone all day, after all.” He gave her a hug and a kiss. “He’ll turn up soon, I reckon.”
Martha kissed George back, then looked around. “Well… he doesn’t seem to have torn up the house, so that’s a good sign. I was worried he would get upset, being all alone like that. We’ve never left him alone for long stretches before.”
George huffed. “He’s a smart dog. Knows better. Unpacked a bit upstairs.” He turned to head back toward the kitchen. “Chicken about ready.”
“Okay, hun, I’ll be there in a second.” Martha took off her boots. The only thing that felt better than her own boots, was no shoes at all. She sighed happily, then paused when there was a knock at the door. She turned around and opened it. “Oh, dear. Hello, officer.”
Standing at the door was a largish black dog, dressed in a K-9 officer vest, complete with a little badge, and a bandage on his head, right between his eyes. He looked up at her. “I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but is this the Edwards residence?”
Martha’s heart sank. That little bandage right between the officer’s eyes, and him looking for her and George by name, could only mean one thing. “Why, yes, I’m afraid it is. This is… about our little Scout, isn’t it?”
The officer tugged a little leash he was carrying to pull Scout out from behind him. Scout was sulking, letting himself be led around, and looked like he’d been in a fight. “I’m afraid so, ma’am…” He started undoing the leash from Scout’s collar. “We found him down at the dog park, taking pot shots at some of the neighborhood pets with a slingshot. When we tried to apprehend him, he led us on a merry little chase. Got off a few good shots, too.” The officer paused to rub at his bandage. “Good arm on him. We kept him in custody down at the station until a patrol reported that someone had come home.” He handed Scout’s shot bag to Martha.
Scout huffed and stomped into the house. The officer lowered his voice. “Ma’am, your family just moved here, did you not? From a farm? It might be best to keep the slingshot away from him for a while, until he’s settled in a little better. Nobody was seriously hurt this time, but that misplaced aggression is going to get him into some trouble if he doesn’t get it under control.”
Martha stammered. “I’m terribly sorry, officer, I’m not sure why he did that. He’s USUALLY so well-behaved…”
“It’s probably just stress from the move, ma’am. I can provide him some therapy if necessary, as I am also a licensed pet therapist. Some pets will act out a little when undergoing large life changes, such as a move.” He shook her hand, a little too firmly, and gave her a card. “I’m Officer Mungo. I’d better get back to my patrol, but give me, or anybody down at K-9 headquarters, a call, if you have any questions.” With that, he turned and started back down the sidewalk to his little K-9 scooter. He had another bandage on his left hindquarter.
Martha closed the door, hefting Scout’s shot bag as she wandered into the kitchen. Scout was sitting at the table, looking extremely guilty. After a few moments, she sighed and put the leather sack up on top of the cupboards, well out of Scout’s reach. “We’ll talk about this AFTER supper.”
George set a plate of food in front of Scout, then glanced at Martha. “Talk about what? What happened?”
Martha quietly took a seat across from Scout, smoothing out her jeans before answering. “Scout has just spent most of the day in a holding cell down at the K-9 police headquarters for using his slingshot to take shots at the neighborhood pets, and leading the K-9 officers on a chase when they tried to stop him. Apparently, he shot several of them before they were able to catch him.”
George scowled at Scout, but didn’t say anything.
Scout hung his head. “Ah didn’t HIT any of ‘em. Ah just hit NEAR ‘em. Th’ regular dogs, that is. Ah DID hit th’ police dogs, but they was chasin’ me.”
“We will talk about it AFTER supper.” Martha repeated as George set down a plate for her and a plate for himself.
“... Yes, Ma…”

[Amazee Dayzee]

After reading this chapter this story appeared in my newsfeed on AOL so I figured I might post it here. It sounds almost like what Scout was doing minus the property damage.

https://www.aol.com/lifestyle/serial-sl ... 40217.html

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4: This is it
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7

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Chapter 4: Grounded

“Grounded?! That’s so unfair! Ah ain’t do nothin’!” Scout howled out angrily.
“You shot a police officer in the face! And the butt!” Ma scolded angrily. “Two weeks- front yard, back yard, house, unless your Paw or I are with you. Understood?”
“But Ma-”
“UNDERSTOOD?” She looked down at him sternly, and he nodded, huffing and looking down. “And no slingshot until I think you can behave yourself with it. Understood?”
“... Yes, Ma.” He grunted and stomped off to his basket, plopping down inside and glaring across the room at her. She sighed and shook her head at him. “What’s gotten into you? You’re usually such a good boy. And taking shots at the other dogs? You know better than that.”
“... They’re just housepets. Probably the most exciting thing to happen around here in months.” He muttered to himself.
“Scout Atticus Edwards! No!” She snapped at him and gave him ‘the look.’
Scout flinched and lay down in his basket to pout.
“You can pout at me all you want, but you’re still grounded, and you’re still not getting your slingshot back until you can behave. That is FINAL.” Ma stalked out of the room with a grunt.
Shade huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, sitting cross-legged in his basket and grumbling to himself. “Unfair… Ain’t do nothin’... Jus’ havin’ some fun…” He glared in the direction Ma went and stuck his tongue out at her.
“You wanna make it three? Put that tongue back in, young man.” Scout squeaked and sucked his tongue back into his mouth. He had no idea how Ma did that. She wasn’t even in sight.

The next morning, Ma and Paw were both already gone by the time Scout woke up. He scratched his cheek sleepily, and his hand bumped something unusual. He felt it with his hand and frowned. A smooth square, attached to his collar, rounded corners. It barely stuck out off his collar a quarter of an inch. He wandered to the bathroom to have a look, then put his ears back, cheeks burning. It was a GPS tracker for pets, complete with a little speaker on it that he assumed would be irritating if he went out of bounds.
He tugged at it, trying to remove it, but it wouldn’t so much as slide along his collar. He took his collar off and glared at it, then grimaced. There was a pin with a flat plastic backing keeping it in place. It must be electronically locked. He put his collar back on with a huff. Ma didn’t trust him to stay grounded without a GPS tracker? He huffed crankily. He was tempted to go out of bounds just to see what would happen, but decided not to. It would DEFINITELY tell Ma if he did, and then he would be grounded longer.
He stomped over to the couch and flung himself on it. Fine. If he was to be grounded, then he wasn’t going to be doing the job Paw had given him. Ma and Paw could unpack their boxes their OWN selves. It was THEIR stuff, anyway. Scout’s tiny box of his own belongings was already sitting next to his bed, still packed, but open.
He lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The clock ticked at him relentlessly. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. His resolve started to melt. This was boring. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. He grumbled and sat up. He would watch TV, but it wasn’t hooked up yet, and he didn’t know how to work it anyway. Tick. TICK. TICK. He stomped out the back door and onto the porch. He glared around. Not much out here. He stomped back inside, out to the front yard. Not much here, either. He stomped over to the tree. Maybe he could find a stick to swing around. He looked around. Nothing. Not so much as a twig. Stupid suburban neighborhood with their stupid suburban trees that didn’t have any sticks under them.
There was a forest, a small one, behind the houses across the street. Definitely some sticks over there. Unfortunately, that was out of bounds. He tugged at the GPS tracker.
He could take his collar off, run across the street, find a stick, and then come back to put his collar back on. Nobody would ever know. But if he was caught, he would DEFINITELY end up at the pound. And he didn’t know Ma’s new cell phone number yet.
He grumbled and stomped back in the house. Upstairs. Pick a room, start unpacking. Nothing better to do. He grumbled to himself and tossed things haphazardly to roughly where they should go.
Angry tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t FAIR. He couldn’t stay on his farm with his sheep, he couldn’t play with his slingshot, he couldn’t go out and wander. This house smelled like cleaner and dust and stale air. He hated it here. He just wanted to go home.
Scout stomped his foot and left the box half-unpacked, growling in frustration as he scrubbed the tears out of his eyes and went back downstairs. He glared at his slingshot, way up out of reach on top of the cabinets. He glared at the little box on his collar. He glared at a photo of Paw and Ma, already hanging up in the living room. He glared at his basket. He hated the basket most of all. He hated the way his name was embroidered into it. He hated that it wasn’t his straw pile in the hayloft. To him, that basket represented him being taken from his home.
With an angry growl, he picked up the basket, opened the door to the basement, and threw it down the stairs, slamming the door after it. He stood panting after his fit of rage, then snatched up the blanket and threw that down the stairs too, just for good measure. Then he stomped out the back door, crawled under the balcony, lay down, and stayed there until he heard Ma and Paw come home.

The first thing Martha noticed when she walked in the door, was that Scout’s basket was missing. She wasn’t particularly alarmed at this; she thought maybe Scout had decided to move it into her and George’s room so he wouldn’t be so lonely at night. Or one of the spare rooms. When she didn’t find it there either, she checked the basement. It was lying, upside-down, at the bottom of the stairs, with his blanket lying on top of it. She sighed. She knew a temper tantrum when she saw one; she’d had kids once.
She gave George a kiss. “... where is he?”
“Tracker says backyard. Think he’s under the porch. Didn’t crawl down there to check.” George kissed her head. “He’s still mad.”
“I know. I saw. Poor thing, I didn’t think he’d have such a hard time adjusting. It breaks my heart to have to punish him, but we can’t just let him act out just because he’s upset.” She grimaced, starting toward the back door. “I’m gonna go see if I can get him out of there. Talk to him. If he’s under the porch, he’s gonna need a bath. He’ll be even more mad about that.”
Martha walked outside and down the stairs, crouching next to the porch to peer under. Scout’s green eyes stared back at her. “Hey, sweetie. Wanna come out of there, talk to me?”
She watched his eyes sway back and forth as he shook his head. “Aww, come on out, Sugar Lumplin’. Come talk to Ma.” She sat her rump directly on the ground and patted her lap. After a moment, Scout’s eyes started getting closer, and the filthy border collie crawled out and sat in her lap, leaning forlornly against her chest. She stroked his back, holding him like she had when he was a pup, and their old sheepdog, the one that had trained him, had passed. She was quiet for a while, holding him.
“I saw your basket. You sleeping in the basement now?”
“Ah don’ WANT a basket. Ah want mah straw pile. Ah want mah sheep. Ah wanna go HOME.”
“I know, I know…” she spoke softly and soothingly. “It’s hard to leave our homes, I know. It’s going to take a while before this feels like home.” She started slowly rocking in place, rocking him with her. “But I need you to stop misbehaving. Okay? You know better.”
“Yes, ma…” He lay his head on her shoulder, then gasped when she stood up, pulling herself up with her free hand on the porch, supporting him with a hand under his rump like a child.
“And now, you’re filthy from crawling around under the porch and you need a bath.” She put her hand back on his back and started carrying him inside.
“Awww, maaaa!” He whined, but didn’t try to squirm away from her, turning his head to watch as she carried him through the house, then plopped him down in the tub.
She put out her hand. “Collar, bandana.” Scout removed the requested items and gave them to her, and she started the water, letting it warm up a little bit before she plugged the drain and turned to dig out the dog shampoo from a box on the counter. Scout gave a dejected sigh and sat down in the tub, kicking at the rising water with his toes. Back on the farm, he’d only had to take baths for special occasions, and it didn’t matter how dirty he got.
Just one more thing he hated about being here.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5: You are here!
Chapter 6
Chapter 7

------

Chapter 5: Coco

Scout spent the next week sulking around the house. He helped to unpack as he’d been asked, but did so only for lack of anything better to do. Slowly, the boxes started to disappear as the house got set up.
By the end of the first week of his grounding, Scout had finished unpacking most of the upstairs and part of the downstairs. Paw hooked up the TV and showed him how to use it, but told him he could only watch for two hours a day, since he was grounded. This being the case, it wasn’t really that odd that he should be outside, laying under the tree in the front yard and staring at the clouds.
Scout closed his eyes and let the wind ruffle his fur. It felt nice. It reminded him of the fields. It reminded him of- Something rustled, interrupting his thoughts. He could hear breathing, not his own. The scent of something, someone on the breeze. Someone was trying to sneak up on him. He pretended he hadn’t noticed, his hand slowly closing on a rock that was laying on the ground next to him. It wasn’t his slingshot, but it would do.
He waited. The steps got closer slowly. Closer. Closer. Almost… He jumped up with a yell and grabbed the strange dog standing over him by the arm. He had her on the ground on her back and his rock raised high overhead before she could even react. “Who are you?! What’re ye doin’ in mah yard?! You comin’ t’ hurt Ma ‘n Paw?!”
The face that stared back up at him was NOT the face of a hardened killer or assassin. It was, in fact, a startled-looking chocolate lab, wearing a brown collar with a tag shaped like a coconut. The eyes that belonged on that face appeared to be the eyes he’d seen so frequently watching him from the window across the street. And they were half-full of tears. “What’d you do that for?! That hurt!” She pushed him off and sat up, rubbing her shoulder, giving a little whimper. “I only came over to say hi and introduce myself! I would have yelled to you, but you looked like you were asleep and I didn’t wanna wake you up if you were! And then you nearly yanked my arm off. Rude!”
Scout opened his mouth to say something, but she kept going. “And what’s with the rock? You gonna smash me in the face with it or something? You’re really aggressive. I like you. My name’s Coco.” She squirmed out from under the confused border collie and stood up, batting his rock aside and giving him a hug. “Ooh, sorry, did you wanna sniff first? My manners sometimes, I tell you what…”
Scout stammered, then sniffed politely. “Ah.. um.. Mah name’s Scout. Sorry about.. Ah.. grabbin’ ya. Ah thought ye were sneakin’ up on me.”
“Grabbing… oh yeah, you DID do that, didn’t you?” She grabbed him by the hand and started dragging him toward the street. “Come play with me!”
“W-wait, ah can’t leave mah yard-! GAH!” He covered his ears when the GPS tracker’s alarm went off, emitting a loud, high-pitched screech. Coco let go of him, and he backed back into the yard. It stopped. “Ah can’t leave mah yard. Ah’m grounded…” He explained after a moment, rubbing his ears.
Coco rubbed her ears, then came back into the yard with him. “Well then I’ll come over HERE and play!”
Before Scout could protest, she’d tackled him to the ground, smirking. “Where do you keep your toys?”
“Ah.. don’ HAVE any. Ah’m a workin’ dog.” He pushed her off of him and started to get up, then looked over at her. She was staring at him in horror.
“Your owners grounded you and didn’t even give you any toys?! What are you supposed to do all day?! Stay here, I- well obviously you HAVE to stay here, don’t you? But I’ll be right back, you can borrow some of mine.” She darted off across the street.
“That ain’t- aaand she’s gone.” Scout grunted and plopped back down with his back against the tree. He did feel a little bad about hurting her, but she didn’t seem to even remember it anymore. Were all housepets this… hyper?
A few moments later, she was back with an armload of stuff. Scout looked at it uncertainly. Ropes, squeaky toys, chewies of all shapes, balls, and even a few plushes spilled out onto the grass. Scout hesitantly picked up a chewy with two fingers and stared at it. “This is what housepets do? Play with this stuff?”
Coco nodded, her tail wagging. “Come on, play with me! It’s fun!” She brushed his arm with the fuzzy end of a rope. He stared at it uncertainly.
“Ah… don’t know HOW t’ play.”
Coco’s eyes were wide. Her mouth hung open; her tail dropped. After a moment, she dropped the rope, too.
“Ah mean, Ma ‘n Paw would let us play ball out in th’ fields on weekends instead of taking’ th’ livestock out t’ graze, but Ah don’ know how to play with… this stuff.” He picked up the rope and examined it. “What’s this rope even FER? It’s too short fer haulin’, an’ too soft fer a harness, an’ ye’ll NEVER get these knots outta it…”
She grabbed him by the shoulders. “What do you mean… you don’t know how to PLAY?! Playing is one of the most important things in life!” She started shaking him. “Not knowing how to play is like, like, not knowing how to BREATHE! Or how to SNIFF!”
He pushed her off of him. “Ah know how to SNIFF. Ah told ye, ah’m a workin’ dog! Ah’m in charge’a… mindin’... th’ sheep…” He slowly trailed off, suddenly remembering that there WERE no sheep to mind here. He felt the tears coming back. He missed his sheep, he missed them A LOT. He blinked them away. No crying. ESPECIALLY not in front of the housepets.
Coco didn’t seem to notice his almost-tears. “Well then I guess I’m gonna HAVE to teach you. Can’t have a dog that doesn’t know how to play, that would just be WRONG.” She pushed a squeaky toy into his hands. “Here. Squeeze this. It’s fun.”
Scout raised an eyebrow doubtfully and squeezed it, listening to the sad-sounding squeak it gave. “An’ what’s th’ point a’ this… loud… thing?”
“It’s a squeaky bone! You fight over it! You chew on it! You can play fetch with it!” She wagged her tail, thinking of all the things she could think of to do with it.
“That ain’t what a bone looks like. I ain’t never seen a bone looks like that.” He handed it back to her. She took it and gave him a ball instead.
“Surely you know how to play with a ball. It’s the most basic of toys! Throw it, catch it, fetch it, roll it around- you know, a ball.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, ah know what a ball is. Ah’m from a farm, not mars.” He gave the ball a few halfhearted tosses up in the air and catching it to please her that he knew how to use it, then passed it back. She passed him a rubber chewy bone.
“This one’s for chewin’. But you can also play tug with it, or fetch it. But mostly for chewin’. Go on, give it a try!” She watched him expectantly, her tail wagging.
Scout looked around for an excuse not to, then, finding none, put the bone in his mouth and gave it a few little chomps. It tasted vaguely like chicken. It did feel a little nice on his jaw to have something to chew- he’d used to chew on pieces of grass or tree bark or sticks, but there weren’t any decent sources of that around here. The grass was too short, the trees too young, and, as he’d discovered earlier, there were no sticks. He handed the bone back and accepted the rope again. “An’ what’s this fer? Can’t tie nothin’ up with this. It’s too short, too soft, an’ too knotted.”
Coco giggled. “It’s not for TYING with. It’s for TUGGING. Look, you hold one end in your mouth, and I hold the other end in MY mouth, and then we pull on it to see who can’t hold on any longer first.” She chomped down on the end, narrowly missing Scout’s hand, and Scout hesitantly put the other end in his mouth. Once he let go with his hands, Coco gave a little tug, pulling against him. He let her pull for a few moments, then pulled back, causing her to fall forward onto him. “Whoa, you’re STRONG.”
He hesitated. “Ah used t’ help Paw stack hay bales in th’ fall, pack feed in th’ truck durin’ th’ winter, sheer th’ sheep in th’ spring an’ move the wool for processin’, an’ sometimes in th’ summer ah’d take a day off from watchin’ th’ sheep t’ help dig posts or pull weeds. Ah guess ah worked up a bit o’ muscle.”
Coco sat up and looked at him. “Oohh, you really ARE a working dog. What else did you used to help do?”
Scout’s eyes sparkled as he described his various chores around the farm. How every morning he’d help Ma check that the milking machines were in top condition, clean, and ready for the day. How he’d herded the sheep out to the field, made sure they didn’t wander too far. In the evenings he’d herd them back to their stable, make sure they were all locked up. He’d always taken his dinner with his sheep at night, not because he had to, but because he liked to. Then he’d help Paw unpack the tractors and trucks from the tools they’d used that day, put everything back in its place so they could find it when needed again. Their farm had been mostly livestock, sheep and cows and chickens, a few goats and some pigs, but they did grow their own hay and alfalfa.
He told her how he’d sometimes have to fight off predators that wanted to eat the sheep, and how his slingshot could hit a coyote between the eyes at a thousand paces (maybe a SLIGHT exaggeration), and what the different types of shot were for: glass marbles to sting and scare and for practice, stones for smaller predators and the occasional bunny, and the steel shots, slag from the mill, were for larger predators who wouldn’t take a hint. A steel shot could, if fired at top speed, cause serious damage to a predator, or even end it if it hit in the right spot.
Coco listened with fascination as the day wound on, and Scout didn’t even notice when Paw rumbled down the street and parked his truck in front of the house, when Ma paused on the sidewalk to watch him talk excitedly about when he got to ride horses (he’d had his own pony!), or when the sun started to go down, until someone called Coco from across the street. Coco pinned her ears back and started gathering up her toys. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Play more tomorrow?”
Scout blinked. “I… yeah, we can play some more tomorrow, I guess. I’m still grounded…” He watched her go, blinking. When had it gotten dark out? When did Paw’s truck get back? He slowly turned and went back in the house, not realizing that his tail was wagging.
Maybe housepets weren’t so bad after all.

[Amazee Dayzee]

So the love interest has now cometh. Going to be really intriguing what happens from here.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

So the love interest has now cometh. Going to be really intriguing what happens from here.

Are you shipping my OCs?
Who says they gotta end up dating?

Just kidding, I enjoy watching people guess what comes next. It means they're enjoying the ride.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Just be glad that I am not shipping any of my characters with Sam. I have a tendency to do that when I am not focused on the main comic characters. Just ask...anybody here.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6: You are here
Chapter 7

--------


Chapter 6: Errands

“-An’ then the coyote went a-yelpin’ back int’ the trees with a big ol’ bruise on his backside!” Scout laughed, gesturing wildly with his hands, one hand imitating a wounded coyote and the other holding his glass of water. He was sitting at the table with Coco, Ma’s tea tray between them with a pitcher of ice water and a formerly nicely-arranged array of dog biscuits on it.
Ma always said, “If you have visitors, make sure you get them a drink and some cookies. Iced tea or lemonade is best, water if you don’t have it. Homemade cookies is best, but store-bought is fine if you weren’t expecting,” So Scout had done his best. He didn’t know how to make the sugary beverage Ma called iced tea, and lemonade was even harder, nor did he know how to make cookies, so he had used biscuits from his stash, and arranged it all nicely on the tray while waiting for Coco to come over this morning. Most of the biscuits were all gone now, and the pitcher of water was half empty, and the two of them were having a wonderful time.
Coco laughed at his story, nearly choking on her biscuit. “You shot him in the BUTT?! And then what happened? Did he come back again later?”
Scout opened his mouth to answer, then paused when the phone rang. Who had the house number? “Excuse me a moment.” He slid down off his chair and reached up for the phone. “Edwards Residence, this is Scout speakin’, how may ah help you?”
Ma’s voice came through the speaker. “Scout, this is Ma. I need you to do me a favor.”
Scout’s eyes lit up. “Hi there, Ma! What can ah do fer you?” He reached for the notepad kept next to the phone, so he could take notes.
“I’m turning off the alarm on your GPS tracker. I need you to go to the store and get carrots and celery for dinner for tonight. There’s money, and a bus pass in the left hand drawer next to the fridge. If you can do this and behave yourself, I’ll consider your grounding over.”
Scout scribbled this down: carrots, celery, bus pass and money in drawer. “Yes, ma’am. Ah have company over, but ah can go soon.”
Ma’s voice took on a teasing tone. “Ohh, company? That cute little lab you had over yesterday? Moving a little fast, aren’t we, kiddo? Not gonna end up with puppies, are we?”
Scout’s face flushed red. “Maaa, we ain’t doin’ THAT! She’s just mah friend.” He heard a quiet beep, and looked around for the source before realizing it had come from his collar.
“I know, your ma is just teasing you. If it’s okay with her ma and paw, she can come with you to the store if you like, and there should be enough money for you to get yourselves some ice cream while you’re out. I just turned off the alarm, so you can go whenever you’re ready. I have to go back to work. I love you, kiddo. Bye.”
“Bye, ma! Love you!” Scout waited until Ma hung up, then hung up the phone himself. He tore the page off the notepad and tucked it into his collar, then turned back to Coco. “Ma wants me to go to th’ store fer her.”
“What about that alarm? Won’t you have to deal with that?” Coco tilted her head with a grimace, watching Scout go to the drawer and find the money and bus pass, tucking them into his collar as well.
“She turned it off. She says there’s enough fer us t’ get ice cream, if’n you wanted t’ come.”
Coco stared down at Scout for a second, then climbed out of her chair. “You got a leash? City ordinance says pets have to be on leashes in public. We can usually get out of trouble by holding them ourselves, but you gotta at least wear it.”
Scout flinched, then looked on the coat hanger where his leash was hanging. It was brand-new, never used, and the most offensive thing you could ask a farm dog to wear. “... Ah hate this place.”

Fifteen minutes later, Scout followed Coco onto the bus, scanning his bus pass right behind hers. He wrinkled his nose and followed her to a seat. This bus smelled sticky. Human body odor, old mayonnaise, and dozens of other smells assaulted his nose. His fur stuck to the seat as he climbed up next to Coco. She leaned over and whispered to him. “I know, buses always smell bad, but it’s the easiest way for us to get where we’re going when we don’t have our humans to drive us.”
Scout nodded and looked past her out the window as the bus stop moved backwards away from them. Some kid suddenly reached over the seat from behind them and started petting Scout; he scowled. Coco put a hand on his shoulder. “Relax. Kids love dogs. He doesn’t mean any harm. You’re probably soft and fluffy, just the kind of things kids like.”
“Ah don’ like bein’ petted.” Scout huffed. “Ah’m a sheepdog, not a pet.”
“You’re a pet now, though, aren’t you? No sheep around here.” Coco shrugged. “Besides, kids don’t really care. They see something fluffy, they wanna touch. Kid would probably try to pet a bear. Leave him be.”
Scout grunted and grumbled to himself, trying to ignore the kid petting him. He REALLY wanted to bite him, but thought better of it. Not only would he get in trouble again, but if this errand went well Ma would let him leave the yard again, and he could go hang out with Coco somewhere else. He shifted his leash to his other hand and pulled the slip of paper with his notes out of his collar. He didn’t really need it, but he’d brought it with him anyway. Coco leaned over his shoulder to look at it.
“Your handwriting is AWFUL.” She observed, and Scout blushed a little.
“There… ah… wasn’t much call fer writin’ out in th’ pastures. Didn’t get much practice in. Ah’m lucky ah learned at all. Ol’ Slim- that was the sheepdog before me, Ol’ Slim- couldn’t read at all. Nor could Tracker- that was the dog in charge o’ watchin’ th’ cows, She was always a grump. She went with one’a th’ farmhands when we sold off th’ cows.”
Coco grinned and let him go on about the farm. She didn’t really care, not all that much, but she loved the way his eyes lit up when he talked about it. She could tell, he’d been so happy there, and as long as he was talking about it, he didn’t sit there trying to pretend like he wasn’t on the edge of crying. He acted all tough, but even tough guys needed to cry. She wondered when he would finally do it. Probably some time when he was alone. She had to tug his leash to get his attention when their stop came up, and she happily showed him around the store, including her favorite parts- the garden section, where she wanted to sniff flowers and he wanted to look at the various vegetable plants that were available; the pet section, with its wide variety of toys and treats, and he was more interested in watching the fish in the tanks (he’d never seen a fish tank before!); and the meat section with its variety of tantalizing treats, where she had to gently nudge him past a display of mutton and lamb shanks, wincing internally to herself.
After they’d finished exploring, they picked up Scout’s shopping list of items and reported to the ice cream section, where a variety of dog-safe ice creams sat in rows, nearly a whole freezer door’s worth dedicated just to dog ice creams. Scout’s eyes were wide as he stared at the selection. “Oh mah word… In our little store in Wyomin’, we were lucky if there were three or four choices. This is… wow.” He mumbled, staring back and forth.
Coco grinned and nudged him. “What, something here in the suburbs better than back in the countryside?” She opened the door and passed him a container of peanut butter and pumpkin chunk. “This one’s my favorite. If we ask at the deli counter, they should have some spoons we can have, so we can eat it on the way home.” She grinned and winked. “And sometimes, they’ll give us some samples of deli meats that they only have little slivers of left. You know, like the end of the ham or a few stray slices of turkey. Like a little treat.”
Scout grinned at that. “An’ they just… give ya free food? Jus’ like that?”
She giggled. “You really don’t get out much, do you? People LOVE dogs. Well, MOST people. So if they have something they can’t sell, they usually give it to us pets.” She bumped hips with him. “If you think you can cope with being a pet for a few minutes.” She started leading him toward the deli, then paused and pulled a few dollars out of her collar. “Oh! I almost forgot. Mom gave me a little money, to help pay for the ice cream.” She passed it over, and Scout grinned. The deli counter let them pay for their stuff there, gave them spoons, and a little container of meat scraps each. As they walked back out to the bus stop to wait for their bus home, Scout munched on his meat scraps first, while Coco went straight for the ice cream. “See? I told you. They love to give us free stuff.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Looks like Scout is taking to being a house pet even if it is slowly. He is gonna like all the perks that he gets from the pet friendly neighborhood I'm sure!

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7: You are here!

Next>

-------

Chapter 7: The Sunshine Gang

Scout followed Coco, half walking, half being dragged, as she led him excitedly up to a house he didn’t know. “Where are you takin’ me? This ain’t yer house!” He stumbled up the steps, onto the porch, and right through the front door. Coco paused for a moment just inside. A woman was sitting in the living room just off the entryway, reading a book.
“Hi, Mrs. Days! This is Scout!” She bounced gleefully in place, giving Scout a moment to catch his breath.
“Morning, Coco. Nice to meet you Scout.” Mrs. Days didn’t even look up from her book. “They’re down in the play room. Don’t be noisy.”
“Who’s down in the- ah?!” Scout’s question was interrupted when Coco grabbed his hand again and darted off through the house, leading him through the kitchen to a door leading to a stairway down. She grinned back at Scout, and down they went, down the stairs and through an open doorway to a room full of dog toys, bean bag chairs, and a TV complete with a collection of movies and a cheap knockoff game system.
After taking a moment to look around, Scout’s eyes stopped on four other dogs sitting in the bean bags. Two of them were sitting in chairs that matched their collars, and the other two were snuggled up together in on that matched only one of their collars. There were two additional bean bags. Coco grinned and pulled Scout in, pushing him down to sit in one of the empty bean bags, a black one, before taking a flying leap into the other, a brown one that matched her collar. “You can sit in Shade’s chair, since he’s not using it.” She giggled down at him with a grin. Once she was seated, her tail wagged excitedly. “Everybody, this is my new friend, Scout. He just moved in across the street from me a couple weeks ago! He’s a genuine farm dog from Wyoming!”
She grinned and turned back to Scout. “Scout, these are my friends!” She pointed at the papillon with the blue collar and a butterfly tag, in the blue beanbag. “That’s Butterfly…” She pointed at the Australian shepherd with the black collar and the sailboat tag in the other black beanbag. “That’s August.” Then she pointed at the two snuggled up. “The golden retriever with the sunflowers collar is Sunny, and the little corgi with the hoodie is Shade. He’s new, too, only just moved here last fall.” Each of the dogs waved in turn except Shade, who barely gave a little nod. Shade was apparently solid black, with darker markings on his face that gave him a menacing look, and strikingly bright blue eyes that seemed to glow from how much they reflected the light.
Coco grinned and bounced in her beanbag. “We’re the Sunshine Gang! Your name doesn’t REALLY fit the theme, but I suppose it’s just fine.”
Scout waited a moment to make sure she was done, then gave a gentlemanly nod. “Ah reckon it’s nice t’ meet y’all. M’ name’s Scout, an’ ah used t’ be in charge’a th’ sheep, at Ma an’ Paw’s farm.”
Butterfly jumped up and got uncomfortably close to Scout, sniffing at him and poking at him with the rubber bone she’d been chewing on. “How’d you get THAT.” She poked at a little scar on Scout’s side, barely visible under his fur. He was surprised she’d noticed it. He blinked up at her. She was standing, practically nose-to-nose with him, waiting for him to answer.
“Ah… got that in a tussle… with a mountain lion.” He thought back. “... Or maybe it was a coyote? Ah don’t rightfully remember. It was not long after ah took over tending th’ flock, an’ th’ critter thought it’d test me out an’ see if’n ah was as tough as Ol’ Slim. Ah shot a warnin’ with mah slingshot, but he weren’t scared none, so ah had t’ jump in an give it a good wollopin’. Only problem is, HE gave ME a wollopin’ instead. Scratched me up pretty good, an’ ah had t’ get some stitches. Ah was lucky Paw came t’ check on me, or else ah might not’a survived, an’ th’ sheep woulda been killt.” He rubbed at the scar. “Only time ah ever lost one’a mah flock. An’ this scar’s a reminder t’ always be more vigilant an’ call fer help before engagin’ a hostile critter.”
At that, the others crowded around Scout, asking all kinds of questions and not giving him a chance to answer. He did his best to answer as many as he could, but they were coming so fast that he missed quite a few. At some point, they settled down and backed off, which was when Scout noticed that Shade hadn’t moved from his spot in the sunflowered beanbag, and was covering his ears with his hands with a sour look on his face.
What followed was a couple more hours of Scout telling stories about life on the farm, to the rapt attention of the others. He told about the time he’d fought off a pair of angry wolves that had tried to flank him, with one coming from the far side of the field while he was dealing with the other, only to receive a stone shot right between the eyes for his trouble. He told about shearing the sheep for their wool, then weaving that wool into cloth or yarn. He told about playing football in the fields on weekends. After each story, the others would cheer, except for Shade, who would cover his ears and give the same sour expression.
Scout glared at him after the fourth or fifth story. “All right, what’s YER problem?” He growled, jumping up and turning to Shade.
“Wait, he doesn’t like-!” Started Butterfly, but was interrupted by August.
“He’s just quiet-!” August was in turn talked over by Coco.
“Don’t get in his face-!”
Scout talked over all of them, putting his face right in Shade’s. “You’ve been making sour faces and pluggin’ yer ears every story ah tell, ye ain’t said a WORD since ah been here, yeh ain’t even said a neighborly hello! What’s yer problem? Ye too stuck up fer the country dog, or- mmph.” Scout blinked when Shade’s hand shot out and grabbed him around the muzzle.
The room went silent. Shade looked Scout in the eye and said nothing, holding his muzzle firmly closed. His hand had a strong grip; Scout found he couldn’t pull away from him. After what seemed like an eternity, Shade let go. Scout rubbed his muzzle and quietly returned to his seat, glaring at Shade.
After a few moments, the others started to laugh, amusement ringing in their faces. Coco moved over and nudged Scout. “Don’t mind Shade, he’s not much of a talker, especially around strangers. He has an audio sensitivity, we’re just being too loud for him. He’s not making faces at your stories, I promise. And he REALLY doesn’t like people getting in his face like that. I half expected him to nip at you.” She gave a little giggle. “Although grabbing your muzzle was funnier, honestly.”
Scout hesitantly settled into his bean bag. “... Ah don’ feel like tellin’ any more stories. Let’s do somethin’ else.” He looked to Shade thoughtfully. He’d seen something unexpected in those eyes. A sadness, deep and scarring, that made Scout’s problems seem like nothing. He needed to think about this. What could make a housepet that sad?
After a little bit of discussion, they decided to toss a ball around while they watched a movie. Coco excitedly picked one out while Sunny dug around for a ball.
Scout looked around. They had accepted him as one of them without question, even though he was different from them. They were all different from each other. He thought about his previous prejudices. These weren’t lazy, soft, housepets. Sure, they weren’t exactly WORKING, but they were looking out for each other, coexisting nicely. He thought how they’d tried to stop him from getting in Shade’s face, how they’d made sure there wasn’t a fight after. How Coco had explained what was really going on after, to make sure he understood why Shade was making faces at him: not because he didn’t like the story, but because they were being too noisy.
Scout supposed that, if these housepets were like this, like a little family that didn’t happen to live together, they couldn’t be all bad. He rubbed the scar on his side, the one that Butterfly had asked about. That had been a painful lesson to learn, both physically and emotionally. He supposed that he had better learn this new one before it also had to be beaten into him.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Scout kind of deserved getting his face grabbed by Shade like that. He should have given him a chance to explain why he was pulling those faces.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

That's one of my favorite scenes so far. So good, I put it in Shade's story too.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

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Chapter 8: The Box

Scout patrolled the front and back yards vigilantly, glowering at anybody or anything that dared to set foot on the property. He wasn’t grounded anymore, and Ma had taken the GPS tracker off his collar, but he was still home today. He had unpacked the last box this morning- they were officially moved all the way in. Coco was busy today- she hadn’t said doing what- so Scout didn’t really have anywhere to go. He had walked down to the dog park this morning and joined in a game of some sort, but the others had gotten mad at him for running around the edges of the group and bumping stray runners back into the group. He hadn’t even realized he was doing it at the time. It was just habit.
He froze in the living room and ran to the front window when he heard a car door in front of the house, and glared his angriest look at the man carrying a box up the driveway. He even barked at him a little. “Hey! Get off my property, you. Get off!” He shouted through the window. The man either couldn’t hear him, or ignored him, setting the box on the porch, taking a picture of it with his tablet, and turning around to walk back to his white van. “Yeah, you better run you little trespasser.” Scout snarled at him through the window. He watched the man drive away, then went out on the porch and retrieved the box. It smelled like home. “... You win this time, mailman. I’ll allow this into my house. THIS TIME.” He picked up the box and brought it in, taking a good sniff.
Dirt. Sheep. Fresh-tilled soil. He breathed deeply, his tail wagging. The box was addressed to Ma. He was tempted to open it, but he knew better than that. He took one more sniff, then set the box on the table. Left. Came back for another sniff. Bit his knuckle. He wanted to stay here and keep smelling the box, but he had a house to guard. He gave a little whimper and took a few steps away. He missed that smell so much.
Finally, he returned to his patrol, front yard, back yard, front yard, back yard. He went across the street, around the houses, and explored the trees for a while. He found a big stick that reminded him of his old staff and took it home, tossing it over the fence into the backyard. He knew better than to bring it into the house. He went through the house into the backyard, pausing to have another sniff at the mysterious box. His tail wagged some more.
In the backyard, he retrieved his stick and swung it around, pretending to fight off a predator, scoop a lamb away from rushing water before it could fall in, stood leaning on it for a while as he looked over an imaginary field full of grazing sheep. Boring. It’s not so fun without real sheep to watch. He went back in the house. Sniff sniff sniff. Television on. Nothing good to watch. Bored again. He groaned and flopped over onto the couch, grumbling. His eyes rested on the box. What was Ma getting in the mail that smelled like home?
His ears went back. Maybe he could just CAREFULLY peel the tape and take a peek. Ma would never know. He picked at the edges of the tape, but couldn’t work up the courage to actually pull it off. Ma would be SO MAD if he did. And she would know. She ALWAYS knew. Sometimes, he thought Ma could see through walls.
He chewed his knuckle again. He couldn’t STAND it. He HAD to know. He touched the box, sniffing at it some more. NO, bad boy, Scout. He scolded himself. Go to your basket. He did just that, retreating to his basket and laying down. He stared at the ceiling, wondering. His eyes drifted shut slowly, so slowly he barely noticed, and he eventually rolled to his side, his eyes closing fully.

Scout stood in his old field atop his favorite boulder and counted his sheep. One hundred twenty-seven. He sighed in satisfaction and leaned on his staff, looking lovingly over the flock, watching their cottony bodies drift over the field like clouds in the sky. It was springtime; it would be sheering time soon, time to relieve them of their winter coats of wool and let them feel the cooler springtime air on their skin in preparation for the hot, dry summer months.
No predators came to take Scout’s sheep from him, but when he counted again, he frowned. One twenty-two. He looked around for the missing ones. Five sheep couldn’t have gotten far, not around here. He moved to a different rock and looked around. Maybe he’d miscounted. He counted again. One thirteen. He gave a panicked yelp and ran down among the sheep. Were they laying down, perhaps? He touched each one as he counted, naming her by name. “Baarbara, one hundred, Sally-mae, one oh one, Belle, one oh two…” He looked around. Where were the rest? WHERE HAD THEY GONE?!
The sheep under his hand suddenly vanished. He gasped and looked around. One by one, the sheep were disappearing, just dropping straight down through the grass as if the field itself was eating them. He ran from spot to spot, trying to save his friends, as they disappeared. When the last one dropped right out from under him, he sobbed and started digging at the ground. “Come back! Come back!”
A wooden groaning sound caught his ears, and he looked up. The fence marking the edge of the field was growing, getting closer, and creaking and groaning loudly as it approached, until it encircled Scout, only a few feet away in all directions, until Scout could barely move. He spun in circles, holding his staff, and reached for his slingshot. An invisible hand snatched the leather cord from his hand, and it vanished, along with his staff. He sobbed, turning around, surrounded by a tall fence on all sides.
Paw’s voice sounded. “Y’all right there, Scout?” Scout looked up, looked around. Where was Paw? He could hear him. “Y’all right, bud?” A hand rested on Scout’s back.

Scout sat up with a gasp. Only a dream. The hand was still on his back. He turned his head to see Paw kneeling next to his basket. He blinked at him. Paw’s mouth opened to speak. “Y’musta been havin’ a heck of a bad dream. You was kickin’ and hollerin’ in yer sleep.”
Scout touched his face. It was wet. “Ah… had a bad dream, yes.” He hesitated. “... about mah sheep. Er… THE sheep.” Paw didn’t like it when he referred to the sheep as his, he remembered suddenly. How had he forgotten that? Paw allowed him the slip this time, giving a slow nod. Then, he took his hand off Shade’s back and stood up, his knees and back crackling as he did so. Scout winced.
“Dinner soon. Ma’ll be home any minute. Why don’tcha run down to th’ bus stop an’ meet her there?” Paw’s gruff, rumbling voice felt a little comforting after Scout’s nightmare. Scout knew it was more of a command than a question or suggestion.
“Yes, Paw…” He went outside and took a deep breath, scrubbing his cheeks dry on his wrist. The nightmare might have been just a dream, but wasn’t the end result just the same? Here he was, living in a tiny area, no slingshot, no sheep, nothing to do. He started walking, thinking about it.
The box. The thought popped into his mind suddenly. He’d been so distracted thinking about the nightmare that he’d forgotten all about it. What if Paw opened it while he was out? What if he never knew what had been in it? He stood at the bus stop and fidgeted, watching the bus coming down the street. Why couldn’t it hurry? He jumped from paw to paw, hearing the brakes squeal as it stopped. Ma climbed off and greeted him with a hug.
“Hello, Scout. Did you miss me? Or did Paw send you to get me?” She frowned and touched his face. “You’ve been crying.”
Scout shook his head. “Nah, ah just had a bit o’ a bad dream. Ye got a box today. It smells like home. Like… the farm.” He corrected himself. This was home, now. It didn’t feel like it, but it was.
“A box, huh? I wasn’t expecting.. Oh, I know what it is. I bet you’re really curious, too, aren’t you? I bet it was really hard to be a good boy and not open it, huh?” She gave a little giggle and poked his nose. “Well, we’d better get home so I can tell you what it is, huh?” Ma stood up, holding his hand. “Walk me home like a gentleman, would you, Scout?”
Scout held her hand and wagged his tail excitedly, the nightmare all but forgotten. He wanted to know what was in the box. He HAD to know what was in the box.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I thought it was really hilarious that Scout ended up acting like a real house dog when he saw the mailman drive up and put the box down in the front. Looks like he has more in common with house pets than he cares to admit.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

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Chapter 9: The blanket

Ma made Scout wait until after supper to open the box. He fidgeted, poking at his steak-fried chicken with his fork, his mind racing. What could be inside? Who was it from? He couldn’t think about anything else. His imagination soared. A thousand options, each less likely than the last, filled his mind. A potted plant. A tiny diorama of the farm made with real pieces of it. A portal back to Wyoming. By the time he finished his dinner, he was more excited than ever.
Ma giggled at him as he rushed through the dishes, wiping down the stove and the table at light speed. “Calm down, Scout, it’s not going anywhere. Patience.” She reached over and ruffled his headfluff. He let her. Ma could ALWAYS touch him. He wagged his tail and put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher, then rushed over to Ma and held her hand excitedly. She grinned down at him. “Okay, okay, I suppose you’ve waited long enough. Let’s go open the box.”
Scout rushed into the living room and into his basket. Ma had the box on the couch, waiting. Paw followed them and plonked his backside onto the couch with a series of grouchy-old-man noises.
Ma seemed to take forever opening the box, carefully peeling back the tape and breaking the edges. She peeled back the flaps, then the paper inside. A tin sat on top, and she pulled it out and peeked inside. “Let’s see here… Some of Marilyn’s homemade dog biscuits..”
Scout’s tail wagged excitedly. Marilyn had been the wife of the farmer across the road back home, who had processed the sheep’s wool into yarn, thread, and other textiles, to be sold at market in town. She also made the BEST biscuits Scout had ever had, his absolute favorite treat. He had thought he would never taste them again, but here was an entire tin of them, all for him! And maybe, if he felt nice, to share with his new friends.
Ma kept removing stuff from the box. “We have letters from our friends back in Wyoming, probably just goodbye cards and letters… a lovely note from Marilyn… and finally, the main event.” She gave Scout a teasing little grin and slowly pulled something new from the box. It was wrapped thickly in plastic, and looked like something knitted, or crocheted. As Ma started unwrapping it, Scout started to notice things about it. It was in muted colors- mostly whites, grays, and browns, as if no dyes had been used in the making of it. As soon as Ma got the plastic off, a wave of scents filled the air. Scout’s ears perked. He knew those scents.
Ma unfolded the blanket to show Scout, and his tail wagged excitedly. It was made up of little squares. He counted them- one hundred twenty-eight, in eight little rows of sixteen. The square in the top right corner had a brightly colored depiction of him, standing guard in his field. The other one hundred twenty-seven squares were undyed, in the natural colors of the sheep that had provided the wool for them. Ma explained. “Last spring, Paw and I knew it would probably be our last year working the farm, and that we wanted to bring you with us. So, we took some of the wool from last spring’s sheering, and had it made into special yarn- skipping as much of the washing process as possible, so it would retain the scents of the sheep. Then Marilyn said she could make it into a blanket for you. We had hoped it would be finished by the time we left, but she wasn’t quite done, so she said she’d ship it to us when it was ready.”
Scout climbed out of the basket and buried his face in the blanket, happy tears in his eyes. He sniffed every square. They were here, they were ALL here. Every last one of his beloved sheep. He pulled the blanket in close, hugged it. Hugged Ma. Hugged Paw. Went back to his basket, wrapped himself in it and nuzzled the soft, wooly squares. He thought he might cry. He was so happy. He closed his eyes and just breathed, letting the scents of all his friends seep into his soul. He didn’t even realize he was falling asleep until he was there.

Scout counted as the sheep filed into their stable. One twenty-two, one twenty-three, one twenty-four… He smiled. All there. He closed and latched the door, filled the trough with fresh water, laid in some fresh feed, and then turned and set his staff against the wall, just like always. He walked down the hill to the house and knocked on the kitchen door. Ma answered it and, with a smile, passed down his plate of supper. “You wanna join us today? Or gonna go eat with your flock?” She had always asked, every time. Always offered to let him in.
Scout blew her a kiss and turned to go with his plate. He walked back up the hill, climbed over the fence and into the stableyard, and climbed up on the ram’s back before setting his plate down in front of him, balancing it on the ram’s shoulders. He lay back in the fluffy wool and ate with his hands, looking up at the fading sunlight, leaving streaks of red, purple, and pink in the sky, and at the stars as they slowly started to peek out. He gave a contented sigh and munched his supper.
Once he was finished eating, and the sheep had started to settle in for the night, he placed his plate on the windowsill for Ma to pick up, and hung his slingshot bag on its hook, right next to his staff. He jumped the fence again, taking one last sniff at his flock, and headed across to the barn. He greeted the horses, stroking his pony’s nose, and ignored the barncats as they yowled at him to shut up. It was their routine, they didn’t really mean it.
Scout climbed up the ladder to the hayloft and climbed his way across it, to the very back corner, where his nest was. He rolled himself into the pile of old hay, not dirty, just old and dusty, and pulled his tattered old blanket over himself. It had been a riding blanket once, meant to keep the saddle from rubbing on the horses, but it was too old and thin for that job now, so he just used it as a regular blanket. He lay back and listened to the sounds of the farm.
There was a barn owl, hooting as it swooped down, catching some poor unfortunate mouse for its supper. The horses breathed their deep, heavy breath. One of the barncats snored. He could hear the cows in their enclosure, mooing away softly. Crickets chirping. The hens in the henhouse clucking softly. A breeze running through the grass. Cars on the road in the distance. Bats, giving their sonic shriek as they swooped through the air looking for bugs.
He took a deep breath. Manure. Alfalfa sprouting. Fresh-tilled soil. Dust. Green things. Flowers, in Ma’s planters. Hay from the autumn’s harvest, starting to get weaker now, running out. Motor oil from the tractors. Metal, rust. All the smells of a farm and more. His tail wagged. This was paradise. This was home. He rolled in his hay nest one more time, enjoying the feeling of the scratchy stalks on his back. Everything just melted away. This was living.

Scout blinked in the daylight, sitting up, clutching his blanket tightly. What time was it? He looked around groggily and stumbled out of his basket, leaving his blanket behind and staggering sleepily to the kitchen. Almost noon. He’d never slept so late in his life. He yawned. He’d never slept so DEEPLY in his life. Or so happily. He smiled fondly at his new blanket from across the room. He loved it. He wondered if Ma would help him send a thank-you note to Marilyn.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

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Chapter 10: The guest

Scout hummed to himself as he walked along, a tuneless hum he often did while working or while idle. Ma would be home by now; she’d said she had a short shift today. He wagged his tail at the thought, then frowned at the edge of the property. There was a strange scent. He put his ears back and tiptoed up the porch, opening the door silently and sneaking inside. The scent was here, too, an intruder. Not human.
He crouched low and snuck his way inside. He could hear voices. Ma, and someone else. Male. Ma was speaking.
“- and he’s having such a hard time adjusting to life here. He’s gonna HATE it if he finds you here, too. I’m so sorry if you’re one of the ones he was taking shots at down at the park the other day.”
The male voice chuckled. “I believe Natalie may have met him already, sort of. She said a few weeks ago that there was a border collie brandishing a slingshot at her in the street, but he didn’t actually shoot.”
Scout poked his head into the dining room. There was a wolf sitting there across from Ma at the table. He growled softly to himself, then pulled his head back. That was stupid. After a few moments, Ma’s voice spoke up. “I know you’re there, Scout. Come on out and meet Miles.”
Scout flinched. Ma was the least stealthy human he knew. He slowly stood up and came to stand by Ma, glowering at the wolf. Ma put a hand on his back. “Scout, this is Miles. He and his pack live in one of the houses here, and they came by to make sure we knew they were there and to not be alarmed if we see them.”
The wolf gave a friendly grin and put out his hand for Scout. Scout glared at it, then up at him. He maintained his friendly grin anyway. “Hey there, sport. It’s nice to meet you.” He paused while Scout continued leering at him, then pulled his hand back. “That’s okay, I know you’re not used to being friendly with my kind. But I promise I’m not gonna hurt you, or your family. Okay?”
There were a few more tense moments where Scout continued to glare. His hackles raised slowly, and Ma flicked his ear behind his head. “Scout, Miles is our GUEST. What do we do when we have guests?” She gave him a stern, warning look.
Scout finally tore his eyes off the wolf and looked at Ma, putting his ears back. “We get ‘em a drink an’ a snack…” He mumbled. She made a gesture toward the kitchen, and he grumbled, walking off into the kitchen to get Ma’s tea tray. He loaded it up with a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and some cookies from the packages in the cupboard, making sure to pick out his least favorite ones. He put two glasses on the tray with two little plates, arranged the cookies nicely, and carried the tray out to set it on the table, his tail giving an irritated swish when he saw Ma and Miles chatting again. Ma stroked Scout’s head. “Thank you, dearie.” She noticed that there were only two plates and two cups, but before she could bring it up to him, he had stomped off, electing not to join them.
Miles watched him go, then saw him reappear at the balcony on top of the stairs, watching him from there. “He’s pretty protective, isn’t he?”
Ma sighed. “I’m afraid that’s part of the problem he’s having. Can’t quite seem to turn off the sheep guard mode.” She glanced at the tray. “And he’s made a dig at you with his selection. These are all the cookies he doesn’t like.”
Miles smiled pleasantly. “I can’t really blame him for wanting me gone. From the sounds of it, a month ago he would be expected to shoot at me. It can’t be easy for him to now be expected to show me hospitality.”

Scout didn’t move from his post at the top of the stairs until Ma and Miles had finished chatting, and Miles had left. Only then did his hackles go down and he relaxed a little. Ma looked up at him and shook her head. “Scout… come down here.”
Scout hesitantly came down the stairs and stood next to Ma, then looked up at her and hugged her. She stroked his headfluff lovingly. “Thank you for protecting me, Scout, but I wasn’t in any danger. You can relax. Nothing’s going to hurt your Paw or I here.”
“He’s a wolf. He coulda bit you. He coulda ATE you.” Scout mumbled into Ma’s thigh, nuzzling her.
She sighed and rubbed his head a bit more. “Yes, I suppose he COULD have. But he didn’t, did he? Because he’s very nice, and you were very rude to him.” She stroked his ears. “But I suppose I can’t be mad about it. It was your job until very recently, after all.” She knelt down for a hug. Scout happily obliged, wagging his tail a little.

When Paw got home, Ma told him about Miles and about Scout’s behavior toward him. He didn’t seem upset about Scout’s behavior, but it was sometimes hard to tell with Paw. Scout gave an ashamed look, scooting his peas around his plate. He hated peas.
At bedtime, Scout nuzzled into his new blanket and looked up at Ma. “Ma… ah’m sorry ah was rude t’ yer friend.”
Ma smiled kindly at him. “Oh, Scout, sweetie, it’s okay. Nobody expects you to adjust overnight. I knew you probably wouldn’t be happy about it when I invited him inside.” She moved in for a hug and kissed his nose. “Don’t you worry about it.”
Scout held the hug for as long as she would let him, closing his eyes and enjoying it. When she pulled away, he hesitantly put his arms down and lay back in his basket while she tucked him in with the wooly blanket.
“Maa-aa, ah ain’t need tuckin’ in. Ah ain’t a pup no more.” He spoke the protest, but he didn’t really mean it. This was nice. He wished he could get it more often.
She kissed his nose. “You’ll always be my pup, kiddo. And don’t you forget that.” She headed toward the stairway, pausing at the light switch. “Sleep tight, kiddo.”
“G’night, Ma.” He watched her turn off the light and head up the stairs, then turned over in bed and lay his head down, staring at the wall. He could still smell the wolf in the air, though his scent was fading. He closed his eyes, tried to force sleep.
It didn’t come. He grumbled and rolled to face the other way. Still nothing.
He buried his face in his blanket. Sniffed deeply. Counted the scents. He was out before he hit one hundred.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

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Chapter 11: Aimless

Scout frowned at the TV, then stood up out of the black beanbag. “Ah’m… gonna head out, guys. Sorry, Ah… just can’t sit still this long.” He said goodbye to the Sunshine Gang and left, wandering the neighborhood. Now that he felt well rested, he couldn’t force himself to sit still. He wanted to run. He jogged around the neighborhood a few times, then tried to join a game at the dog park before leaving there, too.
He sighed. Playing was fun and all, but he wanted something important to do, some WORK. He’d been playing for days, resting for weeks. He hadn’t felt this restless since that time four summers ago when he’d broken his leg and had to spend six weeks in the house with a cast on. He went home and played with his stick in the backyard. Then he put it away.
His tail drooped as he wandered. He snuggled up in his blanket for a while, then left it and wandered some more. Pretending to guard the house just wasn’t doing it for him today. Nothing he did seemed to help the feeling of emptiness in his gut.
Over supper, Scout looked up at Paw. “Paw… d’you… have any work ah could do, while ye’r at work? Ah’m bored, an’ ah ain’t got nothin’ t’ do durin’ th’ day.”
Paw seemed to think about it for a bit. “Can’t say I do, kiddo. Sorry. We’ll take you down to the pet store this weekend, let you pick out some toys, if you like.”
Scout forced a smile. “Thanks, Paw, I think I’d like that.” Inside, he thought, ‘I think I’d rather die.’ He looked back down at his food, poking it with his fork.
Ma nudged him with her foot. “We’ll look and see if there’s any jobs that are hiring dogs. It’s not that odd around here to see working animals, it’s part of why we moved here. That way, you’ll have something to do so you’re not just alone all day.”
He gave her a weak little smile. He knew what job he WANTED. He also knew he couldn’t HAVE it.

Coco set down a notepad in front of Scout. “If you’re trying to get a job, you HAVE to work on your handwriting. Jobs require paperwork, and paperwork means you’ll have to have legible handwriting.” She grinned lopsidedly. “At least, that’s what mom says.”
Scout looked down at the notebook. Coco had written some lines, then left space for Scout to copy them. “You… really think this’ll help? Ah… really don’t think ah’m gonna need to do much writin’.”
She sat down next to him. “Come on, just humor me. At least it’ll keep you occupied, so you don’t get so bored.”
He shrugged. That made sense. Good reasoning. He started copying the lines, grimacing at how much worse his writing was than hers. Coco’s handwriting was neat and proper and cute, while his looked like it was made by a chicken scratching for pebbles. He frowned and slowed down, really trying to form nicer handwriting. It got SOMEWHAT better, he guessed.
No, it looked worse, he decided after a few moments, as he finished the first line. He grimaced at it. It was awful. Terrible. He blinked as Coco grabbed his hand and took the pencil from him. “Here… try holding it like THIS instead.” She put it between his fingers, leaning the base against his hand. “That way, you have better control over the tip, and you can really control the fine movements. Try again with the next line.”
Scout blinked at the new hand configuration for a few moments, trying it out in the air. When he wiggled his fingers, the tip moved, while the back end stayed against his hand. He looked down at the notepad and started copying the next line, blinking at the difference it made. He still wasn’t as neat as Coco’s handwriting, but it was scores better than the previous line. One might even say it was legible. The line appeared on the page in a steady, tight hand. Coco clapped her hands in glee. “See, that’s already WAY better. You just need to practice, and it’ll get even better.”
They spent the day practicing Scout’s handwriting; before the day was out, Scout had developed a legible, almost neat, hand. He admitted with a blush that he didn’t know some of the words he was copying, but that he could at least read his own writing easier now. He grinned and treated them both to one of the homemade biscuits from the tin.
Coco made happy noises through her mouthful. “Oh my dog these are really good. No wonder you miss Wyoming so much.” Her tail wagged excitedly, and she started bouncing in place.
For a few days, Scout worked up a routine. He would practice his handwriting, writing lines that Coco would leave for him. Every few days, he would hang out with the Sunshine Gang, playing ball in the street or else in Sunny’s basement, playing in his playroom. He would guard the house, not that there was really anything to guard the house FROM, and he would feel his mind going numb from sheer boredom.
At some point, Coco came up with a game where one member of the sunshine gang would pretend to be a predator and the rest would pretend to be sheep, and the predator would try to sneak up on the sheep. If Scout caught them, he would throw a ball at them, and they’d run away. It was nice of her to try, but it just wasn’t the same, and Scout quickly bored of it. He caught the predator EVERY time. They weren’t very sneaky.
Ma and Paw took him to the pet store as promised that weekend, and Scout did pick out a couple toys, pretending to be excited for them, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was tired of toys. He wanted something important to do, something that really mattered to occupy his time, and none of this was it.
It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy hanging out with his new friends, but it was boring doing nothing but play all day, every day. He craved meaning, value from his time. He didn’t care WHAT, he just knew that he felt aimless and useless without it. Every day that went past hurt him to the very soul. By the end of his fifth week in Babylon Gardens, he couldn’t take it anymore. He NEEDED a job to do. And if he couldn’t find one HERE, he would go to the last place he had been able to get one.
Scout climbed up on a chair, then to the counter, then pulled himself up on top of the cupboard, and retrieved his bag with his slingshot. He got his stick staff from the backyard, and started walking. Past the Babylon Gardens neighborhood sign. Down the road. Past the sign that said “You are now leaving River Ridge.”
He turned to the west and started walking down the road.
Scout was running away.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

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Chapter 12: Runaway

The grass tickled Scout’s side as he walked past; he plucked a long piece and started to chew on it. His slingshot bag hung at his side, feeling right at home.
His cheeks were wet. He didn’t care, he just kept walking.
Every now and then, a car would come up behind him and drive past. He’d wince every time, expecting it to be Paw’s truck, and Paw would jump out and say “What in tarnation d’ya think yer doin’, boy? Git in the truck, we’re goin’ home!”
His stomach growled, and he winced. He was so thirsty; he hadn’t packed any food or water. Stupid. How could he have forgotten something as important as that?
He trudged on. It had been hours since he’d left River Ridge behind. Or maybe just a few minutes. Looking back, he couldn’t really tell. The sign was out of sight, but he could still see some of the taller buildings poking out of the hills. They didn’t look any further away than they had when he’d started.
He panted, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Dog, it was hot out. Humid. At least in Wyoming, it had been a dry heat. Here, the air felt moist, and it filled the lungs without giving much air and made everything feel heavy and sticky.
A few times, he stopped to rest, under an overpass or a bridge- he’d considered drinking from the water under the bridge, but it smelled suspicious, so he just looked at it thirstily. The grass felt cool when he lay in it. That was nice.
One time, he paused and leaned against the post to a sign. He looked up at it, curious.
“River Ridge: Five miles” it declared in big, sterile letters. He groaned and put his head on his knees. “Ah’ve only gone FIVE MILES?! But it’s been HOURS!” He hugged his knees and looked out at the road, considering walking out onto it and letting a car hit him. No, that’s stupid. That wouldn’t solve anything.
He wondered if Ma and Paw had even noticed he was missing yet. If not, they would soon. It was getting late, and he was always back by dark. Even if he started now, he wouldn’t be today. He’d been walking most of the day just to get THIS far.
“What’m ah DOIN’ out here? Even if ah WERE to walk all the way back to Wyomin’, there ain’t nothin’ THERE fer me. Th’ sheep’r gone. Th’ farm’s gone. Everythin’s GONE.” He felt the tears coming. This time, he didn’t stop them.
For what felt like ages, he sat by the side of the road, sobbing, grieving for the life he knew. It was gone, everything was gone, and there was nothing he could do about it. He wailed like a pup, letting it all out until he had no tears left to cry. And now here he was, out in the middle of nowhere, with nighttime approaching, crying like a baby. He sniffled, wiped his eyes.
“It’s a fine mess you’ve got yerself in THIS time, Scout. Ain’t no way yer gettin’ outta this one.” He hugged his knees again and lay down in the grass. He listened to the crickets, the sound of wind, the sound of distant cars on the road.
“You seem lost, friend.” A voice sounded nearby. Scout’s ears perked, and he sat up. Leaning against the sign next to him was an Australian shepherd, with a red bandana and a green collar. He seemed elderly; he had more gray and less brown than most of his breed. His voice had a slight twang to it, not nearly as pronounced as Scout’s, but still noticeable. He was seated facing in the direction Scout had been walking, looking, not at the road, but at the sky, as streaks of pink started to appear on the undersides of a few drifting clouds. “Don’t know which way yer goin’, do ya?”
Scout blinked. Where had he come from? “Ah… Ah’m goin’ t’ Wyomin’. It’s where Ah’m from. It’s where ah was happy. Ah’m goin’ back.” He stated. His voice sounded sure. He didn’t feel all that sure anymore.
“Ah, Wyoming. Lovely state. Wide open fields, mountains, grasses blowing in the breeze. I can see why you miss it. But walkin', it’s gonna take you ages to get there.” The shepherd never looked at him, keeping his gaze on the sky. “Why do you want to go back? Won’t you miss your family?”
“Of course Ah’ll miss ‘em! Ah miss ‘em already! But… what else can ah do?” He felt the tears returning. He let them spill over his cheeks. “Ah hate it here. Ah hate not havin’ anythin’ t’ DO! Ah miss mah sheep! Ah miss mah barn! Ah miss mah JOB!”
The shepherd was silent for a moment. Then he spoke. “Do you really miss those things, or do you miss how they made you feel? Safe, secure, important? Yes, I believe you miss your friends, the sheep, but do you really miss them enough to leave your home? Or do you just miss feelin' like you were part of something helpful?”
Scout angrily opened his mouth to answer, then stopped. DID he run away because he missed his flock? Or was it because he missed feeling important? Or was it because he was lonely? “Ah… don’t know. Ah jus’ know SOMETHIN’S gotta change. Ah can’t keep livin’ life with no purpose.”
The shepherd turned to look at him with a smile. A sad, meaningful smile. His eyes were two different colors, one green and the other blue. They both shone with wisdom. “You know, it’s okay to grieve over what you’ve lost. Your whole way of life has changed, and it can be hard to cope with. But if you keep living in the past, you’ll never find your way to the future.” A soft whirring sound approached and stopped nearby. The shepherd nodded toward the side of the road. “Your friend here knows. More than you might think.”
Scout turned around to look. He blinked. There was a golf cart parked on the side of the road. Shade climbed out of it and picked his way through the grass to sit next to Scout. “... Hey, bud.”
Scout blinked again. He’d never heard Shade talk before, even after weeks of hanging out with him. Why was he even here? He’d gotten the impression that Shade didn’t even like him. When Scout didn’t answer, Shade spoke again.
“Where you off to? Back to Wyoming and the wide open skies?” He didn’t judge him, didn’t tell him what to do, just sat there with him. Asked him questions. Listened to him.
“Ah… ah’m goin’ HOME.” He hugged his knees. “Except… Home ain’t home no more, an’ it’s awful far…”
Shade nodded, leaning back against the signpost. “Yeah, it’s pretty far. I’m from far away, too. I had to leave my home not too long ago, too, and it took me a long time for Babylon to feel like home. I’ve never lived anywhere so spaced out, with so much room.”
Scout blinked. “You call that spaced-out? That cramped little neighborhood?” He thought about it. “You… ye’r from the big cities. Why’d you leave?”
Shade shrugged. “My life had a big change. The city wasn’t a place I could survive anymore. So I moved out here. I’d never been out of the city before, except for a few day trips when I was young. It was a real shock seeing how much space is out here.” He chuckled dryly. “Although… I bet it feels like no space at all to you. You’re from out in the countryside, where there’s space to run for HOURS without ever having to turn. I bet you really miss those rolling hills and those days out in the fields where you could watch the clouds just roll lazily around in the sky.”
Scout nodded, his voice cracking. “Ah do… ah really miss ‘em.. But mostly… ah think… ah just miss feelin’ like ah was NEEDED.” He turned to look at the Australian shepherd. He was gone. When had he left?
Shade stood up and grabbed Scout by the hand, pulling him up. It wasn’t very effective, since Scout was taller than Shade, but it did get Scout moving. “Get in the golf cart. I have something to show you.”

[CunningFox]

Wonderful chapter.

[Amazee Dayzee]

This was definitely a very nice and pleasant chapter to read for me! Great job!

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

This was definitely a very nice and pleasant chapter to read for me! Great job!

Was that the cameos you were looking for?

[Amazee Dayzee]

I wasn't really looking for any but I did want to know if any official characters would be in it. You said no so I respect that and will continue to read.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

You just missed one. There's been three so far here in Scout with at least one more in a couple chapters. I'm a sneaky boi.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I was wondering if that was Rufus who was the farm dog but then I kept thinking about how you said you weren't gonna put in official characters so I sort of brushed it off and ignored it. I was thinking it was an other original character to take Rufus's place.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

I said I was going to avoid overuse of official characters, because I don't want them to end up doing anything too out of character. But yes, we've had Rufus, Miles, and Mungo so far. We also had a visual cameo from King and the cubs, Natalie, Fox, and a few other characters, but they didn't have any lines. After all, if I avoid them completely, it won't feel like Babylon.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I did notice about King and his kids but I thought that was gonna be the extent of it. As for the others I admit I probably wasn't paying much attention as I read because the focus was on Scout.

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

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It's a short chapter this week. Sorry about that.
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Chapter 13: Homecoming

Shade stopped the golf cart in front of Scout’s house and got out, helping Scout down and walking him to the door. Ma ran out and hugged Scout before they got there. She looked like she’d been crying. It was no wonder; the sun had been down nearly two hours by now. He was VERY late.
Shade put his hands behind his back. “I’m awful sorry for getting him home late. We were at my place and lost track of time.”
Scout blinked at Shade. That was a lie. And he did it so easily. Ma looked Scout over, then hugged him again. “You had us worried SICK! Give us a call next time you’re gonna be late.” She reached over and shook Shade’s hand. “Thank you for bringing our boy home to us.”

Pa had put a plate of supper aside for Scout, and set it in front of him now that he was home. Scout started to eat, surprised he wasn’t in trouble. Surprised they had gotten so worried about him. Surprised they hadn’t said a word about him helping himself to his slingshot.
He was quiet the rest of the night, thinking about what Shade had shown him.
They’d gone down the the K-9 headquarters building and watched as the head officer barked out assignments to the others. Watched them helping out around the neighborhood. Taking a lost kid home. Checking for skulking drunkards in dark corners. Just being seen on patrol, so the neighborhood could feel safe.
He lay awake most of the night in his basket, thinking about all this. It wasn’t that much different from what he’d been doing in Wyoming, except instead of sheep, it was the rest of the world they were guarding.
Scout wondered if that kind of work would fill the hole he felt inside. The need to be needed. He thought about it, staring at the ceiling.

The next morning, Scout picked at his breakfast. It was Saturday, so Ma and Paw were home, and had made him bacon and eggs. It was very good, but Scout didn’t feel like eating.
“Ma… Paw…” He looked up at them quietly. “D’you think ah could be… a police dog?”
Ma blinked at him, surprised. “You wanna be a police officer? I… Suppose there’s no harm in checking what it would take… but are you sure? That’s a lot of responsibility. You’d have to be on your best behavior at all times.”
Scout nodded up at her.
Paw added in, “Ye’d have t’ go t’ school. Probably be away a couple months. Could you live with that?”
Scout thought for a moment, then nodded again. “Ah… think ah could.”
Everything was quiet for a few moments. Then Ma spoke up. “All right. Then we’ll look into it. But not this week.”
Scout tilted his head in an unspoken question.
Ma stared at him for a few moments. “Why not this week? Because Gregory’s coming to visit this week. He’ll be here tomorrow. Did we forget to tell you?”
Gregory was Ma and Paw’s oldest son, one of two. He was loud, obnoxious, always on his phone, and had never once called Scout by his name.
Scout absolutely hated him.
“... Ah can’t wait. Ah’m so excited.” He intoned in the best monotone he could muster.
Paw spoke up. “It’s only fer a week, Scout. He’s gonna come, an’ ye’r gonna pretend t’ like ‘im.”
Scout pouted a little and pushed his peas around his plate a little more. “... Yes, Paw.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Why do I get the feeling that his parents don't even like their son? Sounds like a complete waste of space.

Also would love it if the other son was a cowboy. XD

[GingaDensetsuAleu]

The other son is not currently planned for this story, but maybe I can squeeze him in. Or, maybe in Scout 2. I do remember I had a lot of fun writing Gregory.

[Amazee Dayzee]

All I know is that I need some manly masculine cowboys if they all worked and lived on a farm. I really do like them.

[Welsh Halfwit]

All I know is that I need some manly masculine cowboys if they all worked and lived on a farm. I really do like them.

There is, literally, nothing that can be added to that...

I get the feeling the pretence will get impossible.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I certainly don't get it but then again I'm not as smart as most people. You will have to explain it to me very slowly.