Welcome to "Where's Wiley?"

ALL SHELTER DOGS DESERVE A SECOND CHANCE.

WE HOPE YOU ENJOY WILEY'S ADVENTURES.

JOHN AND WILEY

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CHAPTER ONE

It’s early in the morning as the sun’s first rays reflect

off a powerful fast flowing river. A bird watcher with

binoculars is scanning the river from a high bank. When he

stops looking around and zeros in on a debris-filled

concrete culvert, he spots something moving.

Awakened by the warmth of the sun, a dog stands up

and looks around with a puzzled expression. It is a

medium-sized herding dog with a mixture of gray, black,

and white hair and white chest. His piercing blue eyes and

coyote-like ears take your breath away. The bird watcher

brings his binoculars down and just shakes his head as he

realizes that he has spotted another lost or abandoned dog.

The dog is Wiley and he has been lost for 16 hours. He has

a terrified look on his face as he shakes himself, stretches

and looks around, pondering his situation. “Where am I?”

he wonders to himself.

Wiley makes his way down from the culvert to the

river's edge, forcing some ducks to fly off. He wades

                                        1

onto a shallow bank and takes a long drink from the river,

wades into deeper water up to his chest for a moment, and

then heads for shore. Wiley shakes off the water and then

begins shaking with fear. His shaking intensifies and he

drops to the ground, his eyes becoming clouded with doubt

and worry. Wiley stammers, “I’m lost.” He gets up and

starts wandering along the river’s edge, trying to make

sense of his situation. Wiley continues to talk to himself. “It

was my fault,” he says, remembering how his nightmare

started.

     The previous day Wiley had been sitting in the

     passenger seat of a 2003 White Ford Escape

     watching John, his human companion, approach the

     SUV. John is a real estate appraiser, and dog and

     master have worked as a team for many years. John

     got in the Escape and put his camera and clip board

     on the seat by Wiley, took a map out of his briefcase

     and started to look for a street. Wiley was

     anticipating slowly cruising around the

     neighborhood as John checked out comparable

     sales. “Let’s roll,” Wiley said to himself, impatient

                                        2

     to get going, he leaned against the passenger

     window and complained, “Hey, lower the window.”

     The window lowered all the way, Wiley was a very

     happy dog as he and John slowly cruised the

     neighborhood. He hung his head out of the SUV,

     intently looking for dogs, cats or anything that

     moved. Wiley grinned, “This is the life.”

     The Escape swung down a street, stopping in front

     of a house, and John took a picture. At that moment,

     the owner of the home happened to come out of his

     house with a huge black dog and noticed that John

     had just taken a picture of his property. Wiley saw

     the dog and started to whine. Then the owner and

     his dog, a Great Dane and Black Lab mix, came out

     to the street. When Wiley saw them coming toward

     the Escape, he made more noise, upsetting the

     owner and his big dog. John didn’t realize that the

     owner saw him take the picture and started to

     slowly drive off, turning on the radio. Wiley,

     leaning out the window, continued to taunt the dog,

     who was starting to get very agitated. “Buzz off big

                                           3

     guy,” he shouted.

     The large black dog slowly began to pick up speed

     and gain on the SUV. “This is my turf,” he

     responded.

     Wiley, feeling cocky in the safety of a moving

     vehicle, leaned out the window and yelled back,

     “You couldn't catch a two-legged cat.”

     The big dog’s owner was so upset that he ran down

     the middle of the street, waving his arms and

     shouting to John and Wiley. “Hey man, you can't

     take a picture of my house and drive off. Smasher,

     go get him boy!”

     At that moment, John noticed the man, wearing just

     a pair of shorts, rumbling down the street, pointing

     at the Escape and yelling. As Wiley and Smasher

     continued to bark at each other, Smasher caught up

     to the Escape and was trying to attack it. John tried

     to calm Wiley down shouting, “Wiley, put a sock in

     it.”

     But both dogs continued to bark at each other.

     Wiley hollered, “We’re just doing our job. Take a

                                            4

     hike.”

     Smasher was now opposite Wiley’s door and looked

     Wiley in the face and said, “I’m going to rip you to

     pieces.”

     Looking in the rear view window, John saw that the

     owner had slowed down but was still coming after

     him. Realizing things were out of control, John

     decided to lose Smasher and his owner and called

     out, “We’re out of here, Wiley.” John stepped on

     the gas and swung around a corner. This move

     caught Wiley off guard as he was already leaning

     too far out his window. In the next instant, Wiley

     was flying out of the Escape. He landed on his feet

     and tumbled over onto the pavement. John saw

     Wiley falling out of the SUV, screeched to a stop

     and jumped out. “Wiley! Are you hurt?” he cried

     out.

     As John ran up to Wiley, his beloved pet was

     already on his feet and face to face with Smasher.

     “Well, what do we have here?” exclaimed a smiling

     Smasher.

                                             5

     Wiley, not completely conscious, but not one to run

     from a fight, decided to charge Smasher. Smasher

     grabbed him by his collar and swung him around a

     couple of times. Suddenly, Wiley flew out of his

     collar and landed on a corner lawn. Certain Wiley

     had been injured, John ran to help him yelling out,

     “Wiley, I’m coming.” Smasher moved in to finish

     Wiley off, but Wiley tried to defend himself, and the

     two dogs crashed together. John threw himself into

     the middle of the dog fight, desperately trying to get

     a hold of Smasher.

     “Let them fight,” yelled Smasher’s owner.

     “No way,” responded John, as he held on to

     Smasher’s neck.

     Wiley, who had come to his senses, realized that

     John would be badly wounded if the fight continued.

     He knew his only course of action was to take off.

     He looked at John and said to himself, “I’m sorry

     for getting you into this mess.” Then Wiley turned

     and sprinted down the street, leaving John,

     Smasher's owner, and Smasher standing there.

                                          6

     Smasher put himself in gear and hauled out after

     Wiley shouting, “Running away will not work, you

     sissy.”

     John, who was stunned, just stood there until

     Smasher's owner started yelling at him. “Hey man,

     why were you taking a picture of my house? You

     and your crazy dog are going to pay big time.”

     John decided to defuse the situation. “Listen, I'm

     doing an appraisal. I don't need the picture of your

     house. I'll delete it.”

     Smasher’s owner yelled angrily, “Get the camera.

     I'll delete it.”

     “It’s in my car,” said John. “I’ll get it.” As he

     headed back to his car, John realized that Wiley

     was out there running for his life and the dog’s

     owner was a real jerk. He needed to stop arguing

     and find Wiley. “That guy was out of control like

     his big dog,” John said under his breath. He shut

     the door to the SUV, started the engine, and drove

     off, leaving Smasher's owner standing in the street

     in his shorts. John drove a few blocks, stopped, and

                                            7

     just sat in his seat. Finally, he cried out, “I can’t

     believe it. I’ve lost Wiley.”

                                            8

                              
                    CHAPTER TWO

     Wiley was running for his life, with Smasher right

     behind him. He flew down one block of houses and

     headed up another street toward a women walking her

     Dachshund. Seeing Wiley and Smasher charging at her

     and her beloved pet Fritzy, the woman quickly reached

     down and grabbed Fritzy and they both froze in place

     as Wiley flew past them, with Smasher on his heels.

     Wiley then cut across the lawn on a corner property

     where the owner was standing on the sidewalk

     admiring his newly seeded lawn. He began slipping and

     sliding across the lawn as the horrified owner looked

     on. Next, Smasher arrived, completely losing his footing

     and ripping out what was left of the lawn. Already half

     way down the street Wiley could hear the owner yelling,

     “My new lawn is ruined.”

     Meanwhile Smasher, who was quickly gaining on Wiley

     shouted out, “You’re going to be my lunch.”

     “How do I shake this bozo? Wiley wondered.

                                            9

     As the chase continued down the sidewalk, Wiley took a

     short cut, jumped over a low hedge and landed in a

     small pond, just missing a cat about to pounce on a

     bird. When Smasher hit the pond, the cat was drenched.

     Wiley then saw a school and headed for the school

     yard. He cut through an area where the students were

     eating their lunches, causing them to scatter in different

     directions, yelling to each other, “Watch out for the

     dogs.”

     By the time Wiley came out on the school play yard,

     Smasher was right on his heels. Spotting a small

     opening in the chain link fence, he said to himself. “I’ve

     got to make it through that fence or I’m history.”

     Smasher moved in for the kill, but Wiley dove through

     the opening to safety, just as Smasher slid to a stop with

     his nose against the fence. Glaring through the fence at

     Wiley, Smasher shouted angrily, “I'll hunt you down.”

    

 As Wiley walked along the edge of the river, reality

set in. “Boy, did I mess up,” he said. “I’ve never been lost.

What do I do now?”

     Wiley waded in the shallow water and noticed a

                                         10

reflection of a bridge on the river. He stopped and looked

up. Quickly, his ears pivoted upward to full attention as

they picked up the sounds of heavy traffic going over the

bridge that spans the river. “I remember John and I went

over a big bridge yesterday, so I just need to go back across

the other way.”

     Wiley left the river and scrambled up the bank to the

top of the culvert for a better view. He stopped, looked

around, and saw a street that connected to the bridge. Wiley

smiled for the first time since being on his own. “That

street leads to the bridge.”

     Wiley started walking with a little pep in his gate. He

made his way down the street, then turned a corner and

arrived at the bridge.

     It was the peak morning rush hour and cars, trucks

and vans were speeding by. Wiley looked at the busy sixlane

bridge. He was terrified, but he knew he had to cross

the bridge. “I have to get to the other side,” Wiley vowed.

He put his head down and started across, following a

narrow concrete walkway as the traffic sped by, forcing

him against the bridge’s concrete wall. The noise was too

                                           11

much for his large sensitive ears and he yelled out, “I can’t

take this noise.” He shook his head and lowered his ears in

an attempt to block the noise.

     As Wiley made his way along the narrow walkway,

an impatient driver leaned on his horn. Wiley almost

jumped out of his skin and crashed against the concrete

wall of the bridge which nearly knocked him into the

oncoming traffic. Steadying himself, he continued on the

walkway. “Keep moving, keep moving,” he said to himself

determinedly.

     Even a large bus which trapped him on the narrow

walkway couldn’t stop him. Hanging on until the bus

passed, Wiley continued walking one step at a time. As he

neared the end of the bridge, his confidence increased and

he exclaimed, “Nothing will stop me now.”

     When Wiley arrived at the other side of the river, he

quickly jumped down from the bridge onto a dirt trail and

set a fast pace to get away from the noise and traffic. He

ran along a bluff on the high side of the river and soon

found a trail that lead to a very heavy thicket of trees and

brushes. Wiley started to tire and slow down, stopping near

                                            12

a huge ancient oak to get his bearings. “Now what?” he

wondered.

     Suddenly ahead of him, charging down the trail,

Wiley saw a large intent Akita on a leash with his owner

right behind him. The dog shouted at Wiley. “Out of my

way, mongrel.”

     “Clear the trail,” yelled the Akita’s owner.

     Wiley dove off the trail into the bushes. After the dust

settled, he slowly gathered himself up and returned to the

trail. As Wiley loped along with his head down, he felt

completely frustrated. “That never happened when I ran the

trails with John,” he said sadly.

     The trail continued to wind along above the river near

residences with panoramic views. Wiley looked down at

the river. “If I stay near the river, at least I’ll have water to

drink,” he said as he jogged along, intensely searching for a

path home. “I have to find something I know, anything.”

     At the same time of day, across town, a white Escape

SUV stormed into the parking lot of the County Animal

Control Center and skidded to a stop. John jumped out and

raced across the parking lot and entered the front door. He

                                            13

charged up to the front desk and spoke to a female CACC

officer. “Could you help me?” John asked. “ I lost my dog

late yesterday afternoon.”

     The officer slowly looked up from her paper work.

“Where?” she inquired.

     “It was in the Riverside area,” John answered.

     “Does your dog have any identification?” the officer

asked.

     “Yes, he has a name tag on his blue collar,” replied

John.

     The officer smiled, “That's good. What’s his name

and your phone number?”

     John gave the information requested to the officer

who scanned her computer. “We do not have your dog at

this time. If we find him, we will call you,” she said. John's

head slumped as the officer handed him some papers.

“Here's a profile form that you need to fill out.”

     Meanwhile, Wiley slowly made his way along the dirt

trail, just putting one paw in front of the other, head down

                                        14

He was weak from hunger. “I need some food. I’ve already

missed three meals.”

     Finally, he raised his head to see where he was. As he

looked down the trail which ran between a golf course and

the river, a jolt went right through him and he thought he

recognized something. He remained frozen in place for a

moment. “I’ve been here before. I remember,” he cried out.

     Wiley’s heart was pounding as he charged down the

trail and came to a stop by an old bench at a spot where

another trail went down to the river. A big smile came over

his face as he exclaimed, “This is it! The old bench and the

trail John, Nancy and I took down to the river on our walks."

                                               15
                       CHAPTER THREE


     Wiley took off running down the trail parallel to a golf

course. He paused for a moment and looked around. “I can

save time by cutting across the fairway and that putting

green,” he said joyfully. Then he noticed a slow moving

foursome of golfers just starting to putt out and decided to

take his chances. “I’m not waiting,” he said.

     He raced across the fairway and up a slight knoll,

through a sand trap and across the large putting green,

dodging between the golfers. One of the golfers had just

putted and the ball was headed right for the cup until Wiley

knocked it off course. The golfers couldn’t believe it. One

of the golfers asked, “What was that?”

     “A wild dog or maybe a coyote,” guessed another

golfer.

     The golfer whose putt was ruined shouted, “I’m calling

the club house. Whatever it is might be rabid.” He ran over

to his cart and grabbed his cell phone.

     Meanwhile, Wiley had made it back to the trail and was

                                            16

in full gallop as he arrived at the entrance to the park and

golf course. He rounded a turn and continued up a small

grade, coming to a stop. Wiley looked over at a parking

area. “That’s where John, Nancy and I parked the car and

hiked in.” He looked down the street, “This is the way

home,” Wiley said joyfully.

     He ran along on a little side shoulder of the two-lane

asphalt street. After awhile, he came to a major four-lane

street, hesitated for a moment and gathered his courage.

“Somehow I have to get across,” Wiley determined.

As he started across, cars honked and mad drivers

dodged around him, but he managed to reach the other side.

     As he trotted along, Wiley began to feel upbeat. “John and

I traveled this street a lot,” he said to himself.

     He came to a corner and stopped for a moment. An

English Pointer charged up to a chain link fence. He was

barking and running back and forth. Wiley looked at him

and asked, “Hey, what’s your problem?”

     The dog recognized Wiley and was very upset. He

shouted, “What's my problem? For years you have been

stopping here in a car, perched there in the front seat with

                                        17

your head hanging out the window, your nose in the air.

When I came running out, you teased me”

     Wiley was caught off guard and noticed that the dog

was starting to get mad. He stammered, “Yes, yes, of

course I remember you. Look, I'm sorry. That was stupid.

Believe me, I have learned my lesson. Now I’m trying to

find my way home.”

     “You’re lost?’ asked the Pointer. “What’s your name?”

     Wiley went over to the fence and in a low voice said to

the dog, “I’m Wiley. I was lost, but I remember you and

this corner. What’s your name?”

     “I’m Dudley,” said the Pointer turning his head and

directing Wiley with a professional point. “You always

went that way. Good luck.”

     Wiley nodded his head. “Thanks Dudley.” Heading

down the street with his head up, he reached the top of a

small hill. “It's not far now,” said Wiley excitedly. Then he

stopped, raised his long nose and inhaled, immediately

recognizing the strong sent of eucalyptus. “I love that

smell. It’s the grove,” he said as he sprinted toward the

familiar landmark.

                                             18

     As Wiley neared the trees, he passed his favorite ranch

house. He ran along the wire fence and a small dog hurried

out to see him. It was a young Welsh Corgi named Lionel,

who realized his friend was in bad shape. “Wiley, you look

terrible. What happened?” asked Lionel.

     Not stopping, Wiley yelled back, “Lionel, I have to get

home. I’ll see you later.” He ran past a horse and two goats,

and a rooster, who were in a pasture. “Hi Horse, Butler,

Rose, Jersey Joe,” he called out with glee.

     Wiley then darted into the trees and quickly found his

favorite trail which wound through the center of the dense

grove. As he ran along a small creek, he thought with

excitement, “This my favorite trail. I’ve lead John through

it every morning for years.” Wiley had a confident look

and shouted joyfully, “I can make it home blindfolded.”

     The trail widened as he ran by a large eucalyptus tree

and burst into a clearing and headed up an open field. As he

reached the beginning of his street, he cried out, “This is

my block!” He caught his breath and started for home.

     But Wiley’s whole world stopped spinning when from

behind the bushes of a nearby house, out jumped an animal

                                          19

control officer who quickly slipped a noose over Wiley’s

head and tightened it. Wiley halted in his tracks and let out

a loud yelp.

     “Easy boy, you’re ok,” said the man in a stern voice.

     Wiley was stunned as he was put in a cage by one of

the two animal control officers. Brad, had just finished his

training program. “You think this is the dog those golfers

called about?” he asked his superior. “He sort of looks like

a coyote.”

     “I don’t know and it doesn’t matter,” snarled Earl, who

had long ago stopped caring about the dogs he picked up.

     Wiley found himself inside a small metal holding cage

at the rear of the truck. He was bewildered, heart broken

and exhausted. While the two dogs catchers prepared to

leave, he peered out through the narrow openings of his

cage. He saw his street and the turn that ran right down to

his house. “I was almost home,” moaned Wiley sadly.

     The animal control truck then traveled down the street

towards Wiley’s home. As Wiley peered through the open

metal slots of his cage, he saw Sadie, a large Basset Hound,

                                            20

asleep on her driveway. Wiley yelled out through the slots,

“Sadie! Sadie!”

     Sadie started to wake up and looked around asking,

“Wiley, is that you?”

     Then the truck past Wiley's house and he saw his best

friend, Sasi, a Yellow Lab, sitting across the street on her

lawn, looking over at Wiley's house. Wiley shouted as loud

as he could,”Sasi! Sasi!”

     Sasi jumped to her feet and looked around. She knew

she heard Wiley and with her head cocked and eyes full of

concern, looked for him. The truck had passed, but Sasi did

not see her friend. “Where’s Wiley? I can hear Wiley, but I

can’t see him.” said Sasi sorrowfully to herself.

     Finally, Wiley caught a glimpse of Lindsey, a Cairn

Terrier, the oldest dog on the block, as she sat in her

window looking out. He desperately once again cried out

the names of his neighborhood friends. “Sadie!, Sasi!,

Lindsey!”

     But the truck disappeared over a small knoll, and Wiley

saw the familiar sight of two cars in his driveway. “That’s

                                           21

my home, my family! Why aren’t we stopping?” he asked

as the as the animal control truck continued on its way.

                                         22

CHAPTER FOUR

     Later that day in the neighborhood where Wiley was

lost, John, who was driving the Escape, pulled over and

stopped near the corner of a residential intersection. Pulling

up right behind him was Nancy, John's wife, in her red

Mustang convertible. John got out of his SUV, waiting for

Nancy, and then both stood at the corner of the intersection.

“Wiley fell out the window when I went around that

corner,” he said in a voice full of sadness.

     “You must have been going fast,” Nancy said.

     John nodded his head. “You’re right. We had to get out

of there.”

     Nancy spotted something lying in the gutter. She

crossed the street and as she neared the item, she knew

what it was. She rushed over and picked it up, then sank to

her knees and just sat on the curb, holding the blue collar,

tears in her eyes. John ran over. “This is Wiley’s collar,”

Nancy sobbed. John saw the blue collar and immediately

recognized it. He reached down for the collar, knowing this

was very bad news as Wiley was on his own with no

                                             23

identification. “John, no one will know he’s Wiley,” Nancy

said, head down.

     As they walked back to their cars, with Nancy holding

Wiley's collar, she noticed a stray dog down one of the

streets. She stopped and pointed ahead. “John, look past the

big tree. There's a dog running down there.”

     John took a quick look and grabbed Nancy's hand and

pulled her along toward the Escape. They jumped in and

headed down the street until they were parallel to the dog.

The dog was not Wiley but was lost or abandoned. John

stopped the SUV, and he and Nancy looked at the dog,

which stood on the sidewalk and stared back at them. He

was desperately searching for the faces of his owners. A

medium-sized dog with brown hair and large brown eyes,

he was in poor shape from being on the streets, hungry and

scared. John and Nancy just sat in the Escape and stared

back for a moment.

     They both realized that this was what Wiley was

facing. Nancy turned to John, “Poor dog,” she said. “We

have to help.”

     At that moment, John got out of the Escape. He had a

                                        24

couple of Wiley's biscuits with him and he tried to call the

dog over. “It's ok. Good dog. Here's a biscuit,” John said as

he gently slid a biscuit toward the dog. The dog waited for

a moment and then quickly took the biscuit and devoured

it. Very calmly John said, “Here you go, have another.”

     While the dog finished off the biscuit, John got close

enough to see that it did have a collar with some data on it.

But John had gone too close and the dog just couldn’t trust

him and took off down the street. John threw both his hands

in the air, turned around, and came back to the Escape.

John and Nancy sat in silence for awhile.

     “Wiley's just like that dog, lost with no food or water,”

a discouraged Nancy said.

     John wouldn’t listen and reminded her, “Nance, Wiley's

a survivor. You know how he kept alive as a pup.”

     Nancy’s spirit returned, “You're right.”

     John started the Escape and swung around and returned

to Nancy's red Mustang convertible. He looked at his watch

and said determinedly, “I have to get back to the animal

control center.”

     It was almost closing time when John entered the

                                         25

animal control center. He rushed over to the counter with a

roll of flyers in his hands. “I was in earlier and was told to

check at the end of day,” he said. “Did you pick up this dog

today?” John opened his flyer and pointed to Wiley’s

picture. “This is my dog Wiley.”

     The officer asked, “Did he have a collar with

identification?”

     John held up a blue collar, “Yes, but he lost it.”

     “I'm sorry. No ID makes it very difficult,” responded

the officer.

     John became irritated, “I know. I know. Where are the

dogs you picked up today?”

     The officer glanced up at John and said, “We haven't

had a chance to process all the dogs we took in today. The

dogs with no ID are processed last.”

     “Where are they?” John demanded.

     The officer pointed to a door and said, “We have no

kennels for them. They're in a large holding pen behind the

kennels. We close in a few minutes.”

     John left the counter, went through the door, and ran to

                                            26

the rear of the center where he saw a large circular pen

filled with a wide array of dogs barking, yelping and

milling around. He ran around the pen shouting out Wiley's

name, while looking over at all the dogs. “Wiley! Wiley!”

     There was no answer. John leaned into the pen, looking

closely at the dogs and yelled, “Wiley, I'm over here,”

drawing a lot of attention from hopeful dogs who thought

he was there to rescue them. They swarmed in front of him.

But he saw no sign of Wiley. A panic began to set in as

John realized how long Wiley had been missing. He stared

at the mass of homeless dogs and said mournfully, “I wish I

could take you all home.”

     One of the CACC workers entered the area and tried to

get his attention shouting, “It's closing time.”

     John took one more look and then turned and slowly

walked back through the kennel area where the dogs were

being held. As he passed each kennel, the dogs in the

kennels came forward with hopeful friendly faces and tried

their very best to gain his attention by barking, jumping up,

or pawing against the cage. As he past their kennels and

they realized that they were not going to be rescued, the

                                        27

dogs slumped to the concrete floor with their heads down

and eyes blank. They all wanted a home.

     John came out of the CACC building and slowly

walked back to the parking lot and got in the Escape. As he

drove out of the parking lot, an animal control truck entered

the rear yard of the center. Earl was driving and backed the

truck up to an unloading dock and stopped. He looked over

at Brad and said, “We're late, but I had to take care of some

personal business.”

     Brad nodded, “No problem, Earl.”

     Then they got out and came around to Wiley's holding

cage. Brad reached in and helped Wiley up and then down

to the ground and slipped a noose over him and led him

into a building. Wiley was shaking all over. Brad tried to

settle him down. “It's ok, boy. No one is going to hurt you.”

     Wiley was then led to the large holding pen of dogs that

John had just left. Brad guided him into the pen and

removed the noose and told Wiley, “Don't worry. Your

owners will find you.”

     Wiley was in a state of shock. He had no idea of where

he was or what was happening. He stumbled around

                                          28

looking at all the other dogs that had been rounded up that

day. He said to himself, “Where am I? This must be a

dream.”

     At that moment he bumped into a pit bull mix who

stared at him and warned, “Hey, buddy, watch it.”

     Wiley jumped out of the way and quickly apologized,

“Sorry.” He retreated from the menacing dog and continued

to look around, noticing a dog in the far corner of the pen

that looked familiar. He continued to stare at the very large

dog, who appeared to be half Lab and half Great Dane. The

dog also noticed Wiley and at that moment both of them

realized they were in this hell hole because of one another.

Smasher started to work his way through the other dogs

towards Wiley, who muttered, “This can’t be happening to

me."

                                            29

CHAPTER FIVE

     Within seconds, Smasher was eyeball to eyeball with

Wiley and growled at him. “You're the smart aleck who

ruined my day.”

     Wiley stared up at the large black dog and before he

thought things out fired back, “Hey, if you hadn't chased

after my car, we wouldn't be here.”

     Smasher moved in closer, towering over Wiley, and

threatened, “I could finish you off right now, but...”

     “But what,” said Wiley as he backed away, realizing

that he should keep his mouth shut.

     Smasher responded, “You must be crazy to have taken

me on. That showed guts.”

     “I got carried away. I shouldn't have given you a hard

time,” said Wiley.

     “It doesn’t matter. Our time is up,” said Smasher sadly.

     With a frown on his face, Wiley asked, “What do you

mean?”

                                     30

     Smasher paused a moment and said, “Do you have

any idea where you are?”

     Wiley observed the sad group of dogs in the holding

pen and answered, “Listen, I know we're being held at the

animal control center and this not a good situation. But

we'll be out of here when our owners find us.”

     Smasher laughed, “Are you kidding? You don't have

any ID. How is animal control going to know who you

are?”

     Wiley tried to look for his collar and then remembered,

“Hey, you ripped my collar off. Anyway, you don’t know

my owners. They will find me. I just know it.”

     Smasher laughed again, “You think humans are going

to save us? Give me a break. I know that my owner won’t

pay a dime to spring me. Anyway, we only have a couple

of weeks because you and I are not spring chickens. We're

old with no I.D.'s. We'll go to the top of the list.”

     “What list?” Wiley asked.

     Smasher looked around the large pen packed with dogs

and whispered, “The list of dogs to be put to sleep.

                                           31

     With that news, a totally exhausted Wiley has had it. He

just collapsed on the concrete floor of the holding pen

     It was the end of the day at the animal control office

where two officers were in serious discussion. The man

behind the desk was George Barton, the head honcho, and

he was talking with Earl. George said, “I hear you picked

up the dog that everybody thought was a coyote.”

     Earl laughed. “The public wouldn't know a coyote if

they saw one. He's just a mix. Actually, he had big ears and

loped along like a darn coyote.”

     George glared straight at Earl and said, “I don't have

any room for him or any of the old dogs.” George raised his

voice. “Listen Earl, the new mayor and the press are out to

get me. There is going to be a big investigation. We have to

move the dogs out tonight. Call our friend Doctor Howl

and tell him we have more volunteers.”

     “I can’t do it alone. I'll need some help.” said Earl.

     “Get rid of all the dogs over 10 years old,” ordered

George. “Take the new guy.”

     Wiley was still lying on the concrete floor of the

                                     32

holding pen. He just couldn’t adjust to his bad fortune.

Smasher tried to cheer him up. “Wiley, you look under ten.

That's good. You would qualify for the adoption program,”

said Smasher.

     Wiley looked up and shook his heard. “I'm twelve

years old. How do you know this stuff?”

     “I've been here before,” said Smasher.

     Wiley came to his senses, sat up and asked, “You've

been here?”

     Looking down at his new friend, Smasher said, “Hey,

I've been around, passed around and left on my own. I was

here a couple of years ago. My owners couldn't afford me.

So they dropped me off. Believe me, no one wants a big old

black dog that eats a lot.”

     “But you must have been adopted,” said Wiley

     Smasher bristled and he got a very serious look on his

face. “I wish I had been put away,” said Smasher.

     “What happened?” Wiley asked.

     “The guy who was chasing you down the center of

     the street picked me out,” Smasher said. “All he wanted

                                          33

was a big black dog to terrorize the neighborhood. He was

a vicious person”

     “He beat you?” a concerned Wiley asked.

     “Man, I've been whacked so many times I don't bat an

eye anymore. I can take anything. No human will hurt me

again.”

     “I wouldn’t know what that was like,” said Wiley.

“I've never been hit.”

     You know, I was really mad at you at first, but then I

realized I could use you to get away. That's why I chased

you for so long. Boy, you can really run. My owner called

me Smasher. My real name is Buster.”

     “You're a good dog, Buster,” said Wiley.

     It was the end of the day when John entered the house

and went into the kitchen where Nancy was preparing

dinner. She turned with a hopeful look, even though she

knew John would have called her if he had found Wiley.

     “No Wiley?” asked Nancy quietly.

     John reached out and put his arms around her, “No

Wiley,” he answered. “That animal control center is

                                         34

chaotic. They're overwhelmed with dogs and cats. The right

hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing. Wiley may

be there and they would not have a clue.”

     “Then we'll have to solve this ourselves,” said Nancy.

“We will never give up on Wiley.”

     It was near midnight when Earl, driving a CACC van,

arrived at the rear loading dock at the animal control center.

The other man in the van was Brad, who was wondering

what was happening. “Thanks for helping out tonight,” said

Earl.

     “What are we doing?” asked Brad.

     Earl responded, “We have to fill a rush request for

some medical volunteers. The county sells older dogs to the

research institute at the university for medical

experiments.”

     Brad was becoming concerned about the late night

activities and asked, “Why in the middle of the night?”

     Earl, who was getting tired of all the questions,

reluctantly answered, “Listen, the county has too many

dogs and cats. There is an audit tomorrow. If the press

                                            35

found out how over crowded we are, there would be big

problems.”

     Brad replied, “I didn't know about this program.”

     “Few people do,” said Earl. “Look, it's a win, win for

everybody. No one is going to miss this bunch of old

misfits.”

     He got out of the van and came around to the rear

entrance door. Brad quietly followed as Earl opened the

door and turned on his flash light and handed one to Brad.

“I'll tag the dogs I want with a blue collar,” said Earl. “You

take them to the van.” Then he went around the holding pen

and slipped a blue collar on the dogs he wanted, including

Wiley, who was sound asleep, and Buster who was nearby.

     Brad followed behind and put a noose over any dog

with a blue collar, woke them up and moved them out

before they realized what has happened. He put a noose

around Wiley and got him to his feet. “Come on, old boy,”

Brad whispered.

     Wiley was put in the van. The last dog to be put in the

van was Buster. It took all the strength Brad and Earl could

muster to get him into the van. A worried Wiley caught up

                                              36

“What's happening?”

     Buster looked at Wiley with his big whisky-colored

eyes. “I have no idea,” said Buster as the van pulled away

from the loading dock.

                                             37

    

CHAPTER SIX

     The next morning all the dogs were imprisoned at the

research institute, a part of the university’s school of

veterinary medicine. The complex consisted of a number of

buildings for instruction, animal care and treatment,

scientific study and experiments.

     Morning light was starting to filter through the upper

widows of the animal experiments building, casting beams

of sunlight across the large floor filled with cages

containing 10 to 15 dogs. Wiley, Buster and all the other

dogs with blue collars were together in one holding cage.

Wiley was starting to lose it. “Look at this place. Cage after

cage filled with dogs. They all appear sick. Something is

very wrong. What’s that horrible smell? I want out of

here,” he said anxiously.

     “You're not the only one,” said Buster. “This place is

some kind of medical clinic and I think we are the patients.

We have gone from a bad situation to something worse.”

     One of the dogs in their blue collar group approached

Wiley and Buster. He had a full coat of red and white hair

                                             38

and was half Springer Spaniel and half Collie. His name

was Astro. In a relaxed voice, Astro introduced himself and

said, “This place gives me bad vibes.”

     Wiley and Buster eyed Astro with concerned

expressions. Wiley agreed, “Me too.”

     Standing unnoticed as he stared up at the larger dogs,

listening to every word with his little pointed ears was a

small terrier mix named Gibraltar. “I doubt any survivors

come out of here,” he chipped in.

     At that moment, in strode a small, thin, bald-headed

man with a dark beard, wearing a white smock and yellow

tinted glasses. He had a very stern dictatorial look on his

face. This was Doctor Howl, the head of the institute's

experimental programs. Wiley, who had extraordinary

hearing, picked up his ears and listened as Doctor Howl

was directing his three assistants.

     “I want those dogs,” he demanded, pointing over at

Wiley’s group. “Put the ones with the blue collars in kennel

105.”

     “Kennel 105?” questioned an assistant.

     “Yes. These are the next volunteers for my extended

                                          39

life experiments,” said Doctor Howl.

     The assistants moved into the large holding pen and

herded the dogs with blue collars, including Wiley, Buster,

Astro and Gibraltar, into kennel 105. Doctor Howl came

over and finished counting out loud the number of dogs,

“Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. This is a start, but we need fifty

more,” he said.

     One of the assistants asked, “Where will you get that

many dogs?”

     “No problem,” answered Doctor Howl briskly.

     The blue collar dozen in kennel 105 were milling

around as Wiley tracked down Buster. “Those medical

guys are talking about some kind of experiments they're

going to do on us,” Wiley whispered.

     “I'm no guinea pig,” Buster bristled.

     It was mid morning and John had again returned to

the CACC and caught up with George at his desk. George

was up tight as he was expecting county officials and the

press any minute.

     “I have a neighbor who saw one of your trucks in my

                                          40




                                        

my neighborhood yesterday afternoon. “They could have

picked up Wiley,” announced John.

     George had no time for John. He snapped back, “I

can't be concerned with your dog. I have my own

problems.”

     John continued, “What? I need to know.....”

     George got up and started to leave his office. As he

left, he said, “Look for yourself. I have an important

meeting.”

     Back at the institute, Wiley was sound asleep, lying

on the concrete floor of kennel 105. His ears were picking

up a voice while he slept.

     “Hey, how you doing?” asked a dog from a cage

across the aisle. Wiley opened his eyes for a moment but

went back to sleep. Then he heard another question. “Are

you all right?”

     This time Wiley's ears picked up the voice loud and

clear. His eyes opened and he raised his head. He looked

around and saw a slim, medium-sized dog across from him

in another cage. The dog, a German Pinscher, was about

the same size as Wiley with a smooth brown coat, skinny

                                            41

legs, dark brow eyes and long nose. He had a green collar

on and his name was Rollie.

     “Did you say something?” asked Wiley.

     Rollie glanced around to see if the coast was clear and

then gave Wiley a warning. “You have to get out of here

today.”

     “Why? Who are you?” asked Wiley.

     “It’s not important. I’m Rollie. Now listen. It's your

only chance before they drug you. You and all the dogs

with blue collars are going to be in Doctor Howl's next

experiment,” warned Rollie.

     “Who is Doctor Howl?” asked Wiley.

     “He runs this place,” whispered Rollie. “He's a mad

scientist who's trying to find a drug for humans so they can

live forever.”

     Wiley replied, “That’s just great. I guess he doesn’t

know we already extend humans lives.”

     “He keeps failing, but he won’t stop until he

succeeds. The yellow collar and red collar dogs didn't last

long.” Rollie looked at the other green collar dogs in his

                                            42

kennel. “I guess we're next. You have to save yourself and

the other blue collar dogs.”

     Wiley was on his feet and very alert. He put his head

against the kennel bars across from Rollie’s kennel, ears

straight up at attention. Rollie checked around and in his

commanding voice gave instructions to Wiley. “Now listen

carefully. They'll take all of you to the bath and clip area.

Every dog is bathed and clipped before they drug them.

This is a task managed by bored people who aren't very

careful. They leave gates open. Look for gate nine at the

end of the row. It goes down a long corridor that leads

outside to an exercise field. Once you're outside, get across

the field and over the railroad tracks.”

     Wiley was intently listening to every word and

repeated it back. “I understand Rollie. Our only chance to

break out is when they’re giving us our baths and we must

go out gate nine. We can do that.”

     Rollie quickly added, “Remember, you have to get

over the railroad tracks before the freight train comes by or

you will be trapped.”

     Wiley peeked around to see if anyone else had heard

                                     43

their conversation. “Come with us Rollie,” urged Wiley.

     Rollie coughed. “I can't. I don't have the strength.

Hey, what's your name?”

     “It’s Wiley.”

     “One more thing, Wiley,” advised Rollie. “Tell your

blue collar dogs to keep an eye out for a gigantic dog that

roams around the building. He’ll attack any dog out of his

cage.”

     “Thanks, Rollie,” said Wiley. “I won’t forget you.”

     Rollie was pushed out of sight into a bunch of other

green collar dogs by a large Rottweiler mix who stared

menacingly over at Wiley. But before Wiley was out of

hearing range, Rollie yelled out a warning, “Wiley, watch

out for Titanic.”

                                          44