| "Shaddup!" he yelled, and the volume
decreased considerably. As soon as we entered the enclosure, I was greeted by a friendly
little bitch who was so excited she wet herself as she jumped up on me frantically wagging
her tail. I pushed her down and she subsided to the ground where she lay on her back with
her top lip hanging back in a silly grin, waiting to have her tummy scratched. |
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Fred gave a snort of laughter. "That one knows she's
yours -her name's Babbler, she'll add lots of music to your pack."
We coaxed her out of the pen and into the truck, where she sat looking bewildered for a
moment before starting to howl in a heartrending tone. This was too much for the other
hounds who were already suspicious of what might lie in store for them, and they shuffled
into a tightly-packed mass in one corner of the pen.
"Sailor! Sailor, come here!" Fred bellowed to a large hound who was trying to
make himself invisible behind the others. Despite his efforts, we eventually grabbed him
and bundled him into the truck, where he was anxiously inspected by Babbler before joining
in her chorus.
Next on the list was a huge hound called Remington who was made of sterner stuff; he dug
in all four paws and growled fiercely, staunchly resisting our efforts to pull him towards
the truck. Eventually we picked him up bodily and hurled him in, where the other two
consoled him with solicitous licks.
Anxiety had turned to terror among the remaining hounds, who looked at us white-eyed from
their huddle as we continued pouncing on each quivering body and throwing them in. As we
progressed our job got harder and harder. Each time we opened the door to throw in a
hound, the ones inside frantically tried to escape. We yelled threats and roughly pushed
them back, and in frustration they snapped and growled ferociously at the in-coming hound.
|
At last we were finished, with our twelve
hounds safely ensconced in the truck; by now they seemed resigned to their fate and sat
quietly jammed together in a black, tan and white heap. I climbed into the truck and was
almost overcome by the humidity. The inside stank, as I did, of rotten meat and hound
excrement.
Soon we were on the highway heading west towards Hespeler, and twenty minutes later the
hounds started to relax and move around the back of the truck. |
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