But this agony in my chest—I was too young to have a heart attack! So it couldn't be that. If only my wife were here! But she and the children were away with her folks for the weekend. I was on my own.
I had to get to a doctor. I started for the phone, hunched over as the pain gripped my chest again, and finally got there. I dropped the phone book before I had the number, scrambled for it on hands and knees—and of course Waldo gave me a good slurp on the face.
Where had the dog come from, originally? I had often wondered. He had such perfect manners, but had never been trained to come when called. It was as though he had been brought up as master, not pet. But he accepted equality in our household with singular grace, and even condescended to use the leash for walks.
When I dialed the number, I got the answering service. This was Sunday afternoon—the worst time to catch a doctor! I could die before he came off the golf links and called back to advise me to take two aspirin and come in Monday morning.
One thing this experience was doing for me: it made me appreciate the position of an animal. A sick stray had no resources, and was dependent for his very life upon the dubious largess of strangers—even as I was now. Where was pride, at such a time?
I tried other doctors, but already I knew it was useless. I needed attention now, not during business hours! I wasn't even sure I could drive safely; if I had a seizure on the highway—
Waldo had been pacing the floor somewhat nervously. Now he caught at my sleeve with his teeth. "Not now, doggie," I said. "I'm sick—I need a doctor. Any doctor! I can't play with you."
Still he tugged. I lacked the gumption to resist. "All right—I'll let you out," I said. I hobbled to the door.
But Waldo, always a sociable dog, didn't want to go out alone. He took the end of the leash in his mouth, tugging it from its hook on the wall.
There was a faint, odd barking in the distance. Arf—arf—arf!
"I can't take you for a walk!" I cried. "My chest—"
I went back to the living room and collapsed on the couch. I could breathe a little better now, but only in shallow gasps; whatever was wrong was still wrong. If I didn't have it attended to soon—
Waldo tugged at my sleeve again, looking at me beseechingly. He whined. One of his floppy ears was inside out.
What was the use? I couldn't get a doctor. If I was going to conk out from some mysterious malady, I might as well do it while making my dog happy.
I snapped the leash to his collar and stumbled out the door, almost slipping on the back steps. The pain eased as I walked, fortunately. The fresh air was helping, and maybe the adrenaline. I let Waldo take the lead, not paying attention to the route. He took me through a devious pattern, sniffing out some trail that only he could perceive—and he seemed oddly nervous. Perhaps that strange barking bothered him. It was louder now. ARF—ARF—ARF! Was it an Arfgan hound?
I was getting lightheaded. If this lurking pain wasn't a heart attack, could it be a collapsed lung? What would my obituary say: died of a frazzled gizzard while the hound went ARF?
Something jogged my attention, and I looked up. I didn't recognize the neighborhood—yet we had been walking only five minutes or so. Waldo was striding forward now as if he knew what he was doing and where he was going. Still, I could tell he remained on edge. What was there to disturb his canine mind? I was the one who had the pain!
The houses here were not only unfamiliar, they were strange. They looked like huge, fancy dog houses. A man was in the front yard of the house we were passing—and I saw to my horror that he was chained. He had a heavy collar around his neck, and the chain was fastened securely to a tree.
I stopped. "What on earth—?" I demanded, facing him.
Waldo tugged at the leash, urging me on. But I held back, waiting for the man's response. It was prompt: he charged up to the end of his tether and jerked hard at the chain. "Stay off my territory, stranger!" he snarled. He was big and hairy and muscular and dirty and. I realized, stark naked.
"Uh, sure," I said, taken aback by the whole thing. I was hardly looking for trouble. Even without a hurting chest, I would have hesitated to tangle with an ugly customer like this. Also, I saw the door of the house open to disgorge a grossly fat Soxer, evidently attracted by the commotion. That corpulent canine acted just as if he owned the premises! I let Waldo pull me on down the street, while the chained man sat down and scratched at a flea.
A lady was coming toward us, walking her dog. She too was naked—and there was a brightly embossed collar about her neck. She was pulling forward, while the pretty little Sulky dog had the handle of the leash between her dainty teeth.
I stepped toward them, heedless of Waldo's attempted warning. Something was awfully funny here! "Lady, what—?" I began.
She wiggled her butt. "Well, now!" she said, eying me in an embarrassingly frank manner.
The Sulky gave a short "Woof!" The friendly woman veered away from me as if I had suddenly turned to poison. Amazed, I just stood there.
Waldo went up to the Sulky and made a series of barks and yips, and she answered in kind. Somehow it was as if they were conversing: he apologizing, she affronted but gracious. Then the female couple—canine and human—moved on.
I shook my head in perplexity. Something very strange was going on here!
Waldo tugged me on just as I had another chest seizure, so I followed him more or less blindly.
A few minutes later a trio of dogs came down the street. There were no human beings with them, and the animals walked as though they had complete right of way. Obviously the leash law was not enforced in this section of town! The first was a black and white spotted Damnation about the size and build of my Weimaraner. The second was a longhaired Sleepdog, with only his black nose sticking out from his face. The third was a beautiful Colleen, evidently being escorted by the two males.
Waldo barked at them in apologetic fashion, and the Damnation paused. The two exchanged woofs, and the Damnation turned his head and pointed briefly to the south. Waldo made a final bark that sounded like "Thanks" and led the way—south.
I began to have a phenomenal suspicion—but it was ludicrous, and besides, I wasn't well. I put it out of my mind.
In due course we came to a kennel. A small spotted Bugle bayed at the entrance, until Waldo explained with a few more woofs. We entered the compound.
Inside were benches on which assorted dogs sat. Each had a leash, and each leash led to the collar of a human being. Squatting naked on the floor.
Waldo took the last empty seat and woofed at me in peremptory fashion. Never before had he addressed me in that manner! My chest gave another twinge, so I just squatted down amongst the nudes and tried to look inconspicuous despite my clothing and lack of collar. What else could I do?
I looked about. A pretty female Scooty sat up at a desk as though she were a receptionist, and a squatnosed Plug stood by like an orderly. But the canines and people here in the waiting room were a strange collection.
An elegant Puddle held the leash to a fluffy-haired blonde that in other circumstances I would have liked to know better. But the girl had a bad rash on her skin. A short-legged Baskethound had a short-legged man—who had a broken arm. A whiskery Schneezer had a little boy with a bad cold. A furry little Chomp-Chomp had another long-haired woman who looked as if she'd been chewed on. And a Pox Terror had a man who seemed to be ill with the plague.
In fact, all the dogs were well-groomed and healthy, while all the people were sick. Waldo and I were no exceptions.
Every so often the Plug would bark authoritatively, and one of the canines would take his human into another room. Sometimes there were awful screams—human screams—and all the people would cower in fear. I was cowering with the best of them! How had I gotten into this?