Rascal: Racing Against Time. Chris Cooper
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2
They belonged to a small café, set back from the highway, and a small motel just beyond that.
Rascal could smell the food from a long way away. Although he had eaten as much as he possibly could at Judy’s house that morning, he was back to his usual condition – starving. Perhaps he could find something to eat in the rubbish bins round the back of the café?
But, as he neared the building, the front door opened and someone stepped out. He was young and his long hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. The light jacket he wore wasn’t enough to keep out the cold evening air.
The man had a kind, open face and Rascal thought that it was worth a try to see if he had any food. The dog gave a friendly bark.
‘Hey, boy,’ said the man, rubbing his hands together to warm them.
Rascal barked again, wagging his tail. Then he sat down expectantly.
The man hesitated, then grinned. ‘I get it,’ he said. ‘It’s food you’re after, right?’
He opened the plastic container he had been carrying under one arm, and smiled.
‘You do realise these leftovers were going to be my lunch for tomorrow?’
He pulled a few strips of bacon out and tossed them to Rascal, who scoffed them down in an instant. They were cold, overdone almost to a crisp, and completely and utterly delicious.
‘I guess that’s why they call them doggy bags,’ laughed the man. He began to walk across the parking lot to the motel that adjoined the café. ‘You’d better go home now, doggy,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Radio said worse weather’s on the way . . .’
Rascal watched as the man entered one of the rooms on the ground level of the motel. Then the dog took up position outside the café entrance. Maybe he would be just as lucky with the next person who came out? He waited and waited, but no one came.
At last, a face did appear at the café door. It was a woman, but she didn’t come out; she just locked the door from the inside, gave Rascal a suspicious look, and then turned round, clicking off the light at the front of the café. There would be no more food tonight.
Rascal turned his attention to finding a place to sleep. The doorway of the café offered little protection against the wind. Rascal padded round to the side of the building. There was a large rubbish skip here. It wasn’t much, but the narrow gap between it and the wall offered a little shelter. Wearily, Rascal crawled in.
It was so cold now that Rascal could hardly get to sleep. When he finally did drop off, his dreams were shot through with frost and snow.
It wasn’t hard for the sound of a door slamming to pull Rascal from this fitful sleep. He opened his eyes. In the distance, the man from the café, the one who had given him some food, was leaving his motel room. He went along the walkway, pulling change from his pocket, until he reached a vending machine.
Rascal hauled himself out and made his way across the parking lot. The man was heading back to his room when he saw the dog.
‘What are you doing still out?’ the man asked.
Rascal wagged his tail, but he was too cold and tired to muster much of a bark.
A frown clouded the man’s face. ‘Haven’t you got a home to go to?’ he asked.
Rascal took a step closer. Now that he was in the light, the man could have a better look at him.
‘I don’t think you do,’ he murmured thoughtfully. He glanced in the direction of the motel lobby. ‘What they don’t know won’t hurt them,’ he said at last. ‘Come on.’
Rascal followed him along the walkway. The man unlocked the door to his room and held it open for Rascal. The dog padded into the warmth of the small room. He instantly settled into a corner.
‘Just don’t bark,’ said the man, making sure the curtains were completely drawn so that no one might spot his guest.
Rascal was half asleep when the light was clicked off. Seconds later he heard the sound of bed springs as the man sat up.
‘Hey!’ hissed a voice from across the room, and Rascal could almost feel its grin in the dark. ‘You don’t snore, do you?’
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