Sirius found lying in the yard easier to endure after this. He knew he would get out in the end. Sol had said so. And if he felt too bored and miserable, he would stretch himself out in the bar of sunlight, knowing Sol would be aware of him. Most of the time, Sol was too busy for more than a hasty greeting before he swept on his way, but this Sirius quite understood. He remembered being busy himself once. And he was very grateful to Sol. Sirius did not know whether it was simply talking to another luminary, or some power in Sol himself, but those vast green thoughts now seemed like a proper part of him and did not keep escaping out of sight as they did before. He still could not see them all. But they were with him, and Sol had done it.
As Sirius watched Sol going about his business, he was inclined to think it was a special power in Sol. He was amazed at the amount Sol did. Sirius himself had done a great deal. But then his sphere had been incomparably bigger, and he knew that, whatever the Zoi was, he had used it to help him. Sol was a young and joyous luminary, but he did more than Sirius could believe possible, and he did it without a Zoi. Sirius began to suspect that Sol had more life and power in one lifting plume than many luminaries had in their entire sphere.
“I think you were right to say you didn’t need a Zoi,” he told Sol one evening, as he sank toward the roofs opposite. “You’re rather an exceptional luminary, aren’t you?”
Sol blazed red and gold laughter into his eyes. “So-so.”
Basil happened to be in the yard just then. “That Rat of yours must have the most peculiar eyes,” he told Kathleen. “I saw him looking straight at the sun a minute ago, and he didn’t even blink.”
“I told you—he’s very exceptional,” said Kathleen.
Proud as she was of her Leo, Kathleen could not help wishing he would not grow so horribly fast. It was quite natural. Sirius was growing into a big dog and he had not much more than a year to do it in. But Kathleen had moments of panic. The smart red collar was soon far too small and she had to buy another. Sirius, to his annoyance, had to go through the whole business of secretly scratching a raw spot until Kathleen made the new collar loose enough to slip off.
Then he had it all to do again just after Christmas, when he found he had grown again. Kathleen never dared tell Duffie just how much Leo ate, and he always seemed rather too thin. She took a book on dog care out of the library and worried about him.
“What’s the matter?” said Mr. Duffield, a little before Christmas, finding Kathleen staring wanly at an open book.
“It’s Leo, Uncle Harry,” said Kathleen. “I’m not feeding him right.”
Mr. Duffield looked down at Sirius, and Sirius thumped his heavy tail in acknowledgment. Sirius’s feathery coat was a glossy cream color, his nose was black and wet and his eyes were green and bright. His legs, with their fringes of curly hair, were awkwardly long and would not fold under him, but they were straight and strong. He had a surprisingly narrow waist, but Mr. Duffield could only see two of his ribs beyond it. “He looks all right to me,” Mr. Duffield said. “Growing into rather an elegant creature, isn’t he? What’s wrong?”
“He weighs as much as Robin,” Kathleen explained. “We balanced them on a plank in the yard yesterday. And it says here that dogs who weigh that much ought to have a pound of raw meat every day!”
“Good grief!” said Mr. Duffield. “I weigh three times more than that. We’re both being underfed. Would fifty pence a week help you support your horse?”
“Oh thank you!” said Kathleen. She had not the heart to explain that meat cost a great deal more than that. And fifty pence did help. By scrimping and saving, making Christmas presents for everyone herself and being very sweet and cajoling to the butcher, Kathleen managed to buy Leo raw lights every other day, and still saved enough to give him a red rubber ball for Christmas.
Sirius enjoyed the ball hugely. But Christmas was not a happy time. Nobody except Mr. Duffield bothered to give Kathleen anything. He gave her a book-token, which Duffie said was a waste of money, since Kathleen had a dog, didn’t she? And Kathleen had never cooked a turkey before. In her anxiety, she overcooked it and it was dry. Sirius and the cats ate dry turkey until they nearly burst. Duffie expressed herself savagely.
“If you want your turkey properly cooked,” said Mr. Duffield, “you might consider cooking it yourself.” As soon as the shops opened again, he took Kathleen out and bought her a new dress. Kathleen was delighted. The dress was a bright blue which matched her eyes. Sirius thought she looked enchanting in it. He tried to tell her so by bounding and squeaking, and he was so grateful to Mr. Duffield that he put his great front paws on his knee and licked his face. “Go away!” said Mr. Duffield, pushing him off. “I know she looks nice, but there’s no call to wash me for it.” He said to Kathleen, “You’d almost think that creature understands what goes on.”
“Oh, he does,” Kathleen said earnestly. “He knows English.” Sirius was surprised to hear her say that. He had not thought she had noticed. But Mr. Duffield just thought it was the expression of a touching faith in Kathleen, and he laughed at her.
Early in the New Year, an oil truck scraped and groaned its way along the back of the houses, through the lane behind the Duffields’ yard. The neighbors, two houses on, had installed central heating, and their fuel tank was awkwardly placed. Sirius sat up in the yard, a high and narrow dog these days, watching the men leaning out and cursing and the lorry grinding backwards and forwards, and wondered what was going on. He soon saw. As the truck came level with the yard gate for the third time, the heavy gray clouds that covered the sky parted for a moment, letting through a silvery shaft of light. The lorry gleamed. Then, somehow, oil was spurting from it, spraying the gate all over, until it was black and dripping. Sirius threw back his head and laughed his dog’s laugh toward the place where the clouds had parted.
Then the smell rolled over his sensitive nose. He backed away, sneezing and choking and frantically pawing his face. The men in the tanker, equally frantic, ran about shouting and turning stopcocks. Duffie stormed out from the house and spoke cold and shrill about careless idiots and the risk of fire.
Sirius rather thought Duffie got some money from the oil company to replace the gate. But nobody touched the gate. The Duffield family seldom bothered with things like that and, besides, the weather turned terrible. For six weeks, rain lashed down, hail bounced in the yard, and it grew colder daily. Sirius lay shivering in his shelter, watching sleet pile into transparent drifts with bubbles embalmed in them, and then the rain rattle down and melt the drifts again. He spoke to Sol about it, rather reproachfully, in one of the few glimpses he had of him.
“Blame the Zoi for some of it,” said Sol. “But you creatures always grumble about precipitation. You’d grumble even worse if you didn’t get it. It won’t hurt you to wait a month. And you didn’t want to live with that smell of oil, did you?”
“No,” said Sirius. “That’s true. Thanks.”
At the end of February, the weather turned mild and chilly. By this time, the gate was clean, except for the fastenings, which were black and sticky still. Sol beamed pale yellow from a pale blue sky. “You’re not far off full grown now,” he observed. “How’s your memory?”
“Not very good,” Sirius said glumly. Though his green nature was now always with him, his dog nature lay warm and stupid in front of it, just behind his eyes, and blotted out great tracts of the green.
“It’s bound to improve,” Sol said cheerfully, and strode on his way.
Sirius stood up and stretched, almost as carefully and thoroughly as Tibbles did. Tibbles herself was sitting on the wall. She watched, rather offended. When Sirius finished, she sneezed and was about to turn away. But her lime-green eyes widened and she stared when Sirius, instead of lying down again, backed firmly to the end of his rope and went on backing. His collar slid up over his ears, stuck a moment and then fell off over his nose.
“That was clever,” Tibbles said. “Can you get it back on again?”
“I expect so,” said Sirius. He advanced on the gate, waving his tail joyfully. “Can you show me how to get this open?”
“We are bold, aren’t we?” said Tibbles. “I’ve told you—I can do the bolt at the bottom, but I can’t reach the other fastenings.”
“I can reach the others if you show me how they work,” said Sirius.
“Very well.” Rather humped and grudging, Tibbles descended from the wall and sat elegantly down at the base of the gate. Sirius watched carefully as she extended a narrow white paw to the knob of the bolt, delicately pushed the knob upward and then patted it gently until it slid greasily back in the oily slot. “There. Can you do that?” she said, sure that he could not.
“I don’t know. I’ll try.” Sirius raised himself on his hind legs and leaned against the gate, full stretch. Like that, he was now rather taller than Kathleen. The top bolt was within easy reach of his clumsy right paw. He raised the paw and batted at the bolt with it. Luckily, it was slightly stiffer. The knob went up to the right position and stuck there, and Sirius had to come down for a rest at that stage. Tibbles looked superior. But Sirius heaved himself up on his back legs again and gave the knob a sideways swipe, hasty and strong. As he sank down, the bolt went rattling back.
“That was quite clever,” Tibbles said patronizingly.
“That’s what I thought,” said Sirius. “How does the latch undo?”
“You push it up—that little sharp bit that sticks out,” Tibbles said.
Sirius tried. The gate jumped about in its moorings, but nothing else happened.
“Stupid,” said Tibbles, “Here, let me stand on your back and I’ll show you.”
“All right.” Sirius stood with his side against the gate, and Tibbles leaped easily up to the middle of his back. Both of them hated it. Sirius’s hackles went up, and he only just prevented himself snapping at Tibbles. And Tibbles felt so insecure that she dug all her claws into him, hard. Sirius rumbled out a growl, which made Tibbles’s hair stand up too.
“Listen,” she snapped. “I’m doing you a kindness.”
“I know!” Sirius snarled, craning around to see what she was up to. “Be quick.”
Tibbles put out a shaky paw and lifted the latch. Sirius had barely time to understand he had been hitting the wrong part, before Tibbles jumped clear. They stood glaring at one another, while, behind Sirius, the gate swung creaking open into the lane.
“You’re welcome.” Tibbles’s fur was still up. She raised one paw and gave it a quick, irritated licking. “That’s the last time I stand on a dog.”
“That’s the last time I let you.” Sirius bent his tall narrow body into a half-circle and looked out into the lane. It was empty. He slid through the gap, and then threw himself joyfully backwards at the gate. It shut, with a slam and a click. He was free. He put his nose down and was about to scour away down the lane.
“I say!” Tibbles was on the wall, crouching to look down at him.
“What?” he said impatiently.
“When you come back,” Tibbles said, “you’ll find that side’s easier to open. You have to tread on the flat bit, then go away backwards so that the gate can open. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes. I think so.” Sirius did not like to tell her that he had no intention of coming back. He galloped off down the lane, flinging a glad good-by over his shoulder to Tibbles, and began the most marvelous day of his life.
His dog nature needed a free rein first. It cried out to examine every whiff and stink he passed, to raise its leg at every lamppost and corner, and to run up the pavement as it had seldom run before. When the joy of that subsided a little, Sirius remembered he had an errand. He turned and crossed the road.
Kathleen had tried to teach him about cars. Sirius did look to see that there was a gap to cross in. But only experience teaches you how fast a car can move. Hooters and brakes screamed. Sirius tore out from beneath the skidding wheels of one motorist, only to find another rushing at him from the other side. The second motorist only missed him because a sudden blaze of sunlight startled him into jerking his wheel to the right. Sirius, shaken to his green core, bolted into an alleyway opposite and lay down panting in its shadow.
“That was stupid of you,” Sol said, gilding the wall in front of him. “I’ll leave you to be squashed if you do that again.”
“Sorry,” panted Sirius.
“I should hope so!” said Sol. “Now listen. I’ve been checking up on the things that fell here last spring, and there are six that could be the Zoi. Four of them went down in Great Britain, and the other two in France. It does look more and more as if someone knew where to put you. It worries me. Start looking, won’t you?”
“I am looking,” said Sirius. He arose with great dignity and trotted purposefully off.
He honestly intended to search. But he had not realized until that day how big and how full of interest was the town where he lived. He kept having adventures. He met children in parks, cats on fences and women in shops. And outside the Town Hall he met two policemen.
The policemen sprang suddenly out of a car parked in front of the Town Hall and advanced purposefully on Sirius, one from either side.
“Here, doggie. Come here. Nice fellow,” said one.
Sirius looked up and saw at once they were trying to catch him. It must be because he had no collar. Behind them, traffic was thundering along the road. Sirius dared not dash across it after what Sol had said. He wondered whether to dash the other way, up the steps of the Town Hall, but a party of people were coming down them—people in dark clothes, with the smell of importance clinging to them. Unless he was very clever, he was going to be caught.
“Nice fellow,” said the policeman behind him. “Here!”
Sirius turned to him, his tail waving, his ears down, and his mouth open jovially. When he had put himself in a position from which he could see both policemen, he stopped and bent his elbows to the pavement, wagged his tail furiously and gave an encouraging bark.
“Thinks we’re playing,” said the first policeman.
Both policemen grabbed. Sirius dodged. They grabbed again, and he bounced away between them, barking delightedly. They moved far more slowly than Robin or Basil. Another bounce or so, and he would be able to make off down the nearest side street.
“What is it, Constable? A stray?” called the Lord Mayor from the steps. He was a dog-lover. “Can we help?”
“Well, if you could catch hold of him, sir—” said the first policeman. Both of them were sweating by now.
Most willingly, the Lord Mayor came down the steps. With him came the Town Clerk, the Borough Surveyor, three Councilors, and the Lord Mayor’s chauffeur. Sirius suddenly found himself having to dodge a whole crowd of people. He dodged and he bounced and he barked, and he led them in a mad dance down the pavement. They got in one another’s way, Sirius was able to dash off down a side road, barking excitedly, looking as if he thought this was the greatest game of his life. In a way it was. He was laughing widely as he collapsed to rest behind a row of dustbins. He had never had such fun.
The dustbins smelled most fetchingly. All this running had made Sirius ravenous. He got up and tracked the fetching smell to the third dustbin along. It was a measure of how much he had learned that interesting morning, that he had no difficulty at all in prizing the lid off it. Inside, wrapped in newspaper, were the remains of a fried chicken. Sirius took it out and nosed aside the paper. The chicken was already in his mouth, when an old lady, attracted by the clang of the lid on the roadway, came hobbling down the steps of her house.
“Leaver,” she said sternly.
Sirius looked up at her, hardly able to credit it.
“Drop it!” she commanded. “You heard me.” When Sirius did nothing but stare, the old lady seized the chicken and wrenched it from his mouth. Sirius growled and tried to hang on. “No you don’t!” said the intrepid old lady. She was so fierce that Sirius stopped growling and watched hopelessly while the old lady put the chicken back in the dustbin and rammed the lid on. He could not help whining a little at that. “Oh no,” said the old lady. “Not chicken bones, and not out of dustbins. I’m not going to stand by and see a nice dog like you ruin his insides. Don’t you know chicken bones splinter? You’d die in agony, dog. Come with me and I’ll find you something else.”
She turned and began to hobble back up her steps. Sirius climbed up behind her, rather interested. Indoors, she limped to a tiny kitchen and opened a very small refrigerator.
“Let’s see,” she said. “Not a pork chop, I think. But here’s a bit of stewing beef you can have. Here.” She handed over a succulent lump. It vanished at once. “I can’t think why you dogs never wait to taste anything,” the old lady said. “Would you like some cake? It’s bad for teeth, but it’s better than chicken.” Sirius pranced beside her eagerly to a small cupboard. He was given nearly half a big currant cake. “Better now?” asked the old lady.
Sirius showed her he was by wagging his tail and nosing her twisted old hand. The twisted old hand turned and stroked his ears like an expert. Even Kathleen did not stroke ears so well. “You’re a beauty,” said the old lady. “I lost my dog a year ago. I’d love to keep you, but I can see you’re well cared for. Slipped your collar, naughty dog. I bet you belong to some little girl who’d break her heart if she lost you. Yes. Surprised you, didn’t I?” she said, as Sirius stared at her. “I know dogs. My Lass used to understand English too. Now, I’m going to let you out and you’re to go home. Understand?”
Sirius understood perfectly. He felt extremely guilty as he set off trotting in quite the opposite direction. But he had to be free to find that Zoi.
He came to an area of little houses in a tight crisscross of small streets near the river. The river was dark and slimy. Sirius did not care for it. He went swiftly away from it, up the nearest street, and heard paws excitedly bang on a wooden gate he was passing. Some dog whined:
“Hey! I say! Hallo, hallo, hallo!”
Sirius stopped. It was a gate to a yard a little smaller than his own, and nothing like such a high one. There was wire netting nailed across the bottom of the gate, and more wire netting above it and above the fence beyond, making this yard even more of a prison than his own. Feeling very sympathetic, Sirius lay down and looked through the lower netting. The other dog lay down at the same moment. They stared at one another, nose to nose. Sirius’s tail arched in astonishment. It was almost like looking in a mirror. This was a bitch, and she had soft brown eyes, but she had the same creamy, feathery coat, and the same red ears. She was very handsome.
“Who are you?” said Sirius. “Why do you look like me?”
“Who are you? I’m Patchie. Hallo, hallo, hallo,” said the other dog.
“Hallo,” he said. “They call me Leo.”
“Hallo, Leo. Hallo, hallo!” said she.
“Don’t you say anything else but Hallo?”
“What else is there to say? Hallo, hallo.”
“There are all sorts of other things to say. Do you find it very boring, shut up in that yard?”
“Why should I?” she said, in some surprise. “Hallo.”
“Oh well,” said Sirius. “You don’t happen to know what a Zoi is, do you?”
“No,” she said. “A bone? Hallo. Who’s your master?”
“I haven’t got a master. A girl called Kathleen takes care of me.”
“Poor you!” said Patchie. “My master’s called Ken. He’s lovely!”
It suddenly dawned on Sirius that this was the most stupid creature he had ever encountered. He hoisted himself to his feet, bitterly disappointed. “I must go.”
“Come back tomorrow. Good-by, good-by, good-by!” said Patchie.
No fear! thought Sirius, and trotted off.
Two gates farther on, there was another creamy dog with red ears. He leaped and whined and hurled himself at his netting. “Hallo, hallo! I saw you go down and I hoped you’d come back. Hallo, hallo. I’m Bruce. Hallo.”
“Hallo,” Sirius said politely, and passed on.
Farther up the street, there were two more cream and red dogs, Rover and Redears, and they, too, were uncannily like Sirius. Sirius was bewildered. No other dogs he had met looked like this. “Why do you look like me?” he asked Redears.
“Oh hallo, hallo, hallo!” Redears answered. “Because we’re both dogs, I suppose. Hallo.”
“Don’t any of you ever say anything but Hallo?” Sirius said, quite exasperated.
“Of course not. That’s what dogs say,” said Redears. “Hallo.”
Sirius wanted to tell him to go and get lost in a tin of cat food, but he supposed Redears could not help being stupid. He said good-by politely and went on. Now I know what Basil means when he calls people morons, he thought. What idiots!
A little farther on, the crisscross streets were being knocked down. Sirius spent some time watching bulldozers plow heaps of bricks about. Some men in yellow helmets made a fuss of him and gave him a ham sandwich. They seemed to think he was one of the four moronic hallo-dogs.
“Here! Isn’t this your Bruce got out again?” one of them shouted to the man in the bulldozer.
“No,” bellowed the man. “Must be Rover or Redears. Can’t tell them apart.”
While they were bawling to one another, Sirius slipped off and came to a wide cindery place where all the houses had been cleared away. It ended in a part which had evidently been knocked down, but not cleared, some years before. There were big heaps of rubble, with bare bushes and small trees sprouting from them. The bricks and cinders were covered with white grass and the dry stalks of tall weeds.
As Sirius pushed his way through, he felt a tingle. It was more than a smell, bigger than a feeling. It was tingling, living, huge. He froze, with his head up. Only a Zoi could feel like that. It must be the Zoi. But the tingle was gone as he froze. Sirius strained nose, ears, everything, to catch it again. But there was nothing. Perhaps the wind had changed. Sirius ran to and fro, casting for the scent, or feeling, or whatever it was, almost frantic. There was nothing, absolutely nothing. He seemed to have lost the Zoi the moment he found it. Despairingly, he looked up at Sol.
Sol was much lower down the sky than he expected. Another anxiety came over Sirius. “What time is it?”
“Half past three Greenwich,” said Sol. “What’s the matter?”
For a moment, Sirius felt he was being torn in two. The Zoi was here somewhere. He knew it was. But Kathleen would be home from school just after four. He had barely time to get back. He turned and set off trotting fast in what his dog sense told him was the way home. “The Zoi,” he said over his shoulder to Sol. “It’s somewhere quite near. But I can’t stay.” He was angry with himself. The dog in him had cheated his green nature by lying cunningly low until the last moment. It had intended to go home all the time. “I can’t help it!” he told Sol angrily.
“Of course not,” said Sol. “You can come here tomorrow. I’ll try and trace the thing which fell nearest here.”