On Dog Creek
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2011 by Anne N. Mouse

Pronunciation notes:

There are a couple of names that the reader may be unfamiliar with in this story. Therefore I am including a short pronunciation guide.

Seamus is pronounced Shaymus.

Siobhan is pronounced Shevan or closer to sh'van with a soft ah, almost o sound for the 'a'.

Dog Creek is in the middle of nowhere. Actually Seamus O'Kieth was certain that you went a few miles past the middle of nowhere, then turned off the road and drove 'til you were on a two rut trail to get to Dog Creek. Indeed you really didn't get to Dog Creek until you'd hiked to where you couldn't see the car or the two rut trail ... Seamus knew why his family had moved this far out of the sight of other people, his father and his mother had bluntly said, "Seamus, tough times are coming, so it is in our best interest to remove ourselves from the midst of society until such time as civilization returns."

As far as Seamus was concerned, the only redeeming quality of living so far out in the sticks was that his parents had grudgingly agreed that it was possible that he could have a dog, if they could find one that the family could agree on.

Still, in the two months since they had moved into the rustic cabin that stood at the entrance to an abandoned hard rock mine, no effort had been made to find a dog. Learning to find his way around the woods had been an interesting challenge and Seamus enjoyed the experience of being reasonably free of supervision while exploring the area. Early every morning though his father sent him out with a crossbow to patrol part of the woods before he was allowed to eat breakfast.

"I'm not asking you to hunt for your meals yet, but the practice of getting up and making sure that no one has found our place is a good way to learn about the forest," was his father's answer to his question of why he had to go out before he ate.

He was once again checking the stream that so far as he knew was called Dog Creek, on his morning walk (he refused to call it a patrol) when he found a badly injured dog near the end of the area he was supposed to inspect. He checked the animal to see if it was still alive and discovered that it was breathing. Seamus then began to work on a method of bringing the dog back to the cabin where he lived with his parents. His father had taught him how to make a travois, so that is what he did using his sweat shirt and a couple of willow saplings. When he had the travois together, Seamus carefully slid the mostly unconscious animal onto it and set out for home.

Although he was less than a half mile from the cabin Seamus was breathing hard when he entered the cabin and panted while asking, "I found a dog, can I keep it?"

"Where did you find the dog?" His father asked, instantly much more alert than he had seemed just a moment before.

"About half a mile down the creek," he answered.

"Where is it?" His mother asked.

"Just outside, it was hurt bad so I made a travois and carried it back using it."

"I'd better check on it then, if it is too badly hurt the kindest thing may be to put it down. Did you see what had happened to it?"

"No but it looks like it has two broken legs and that it was hit on the head."

"Seamus, we'll leave patching the dog up to your mother," his father said, in part because she had worked as a physician's assistant before the family moved into the woods. "If there is no indication of an owner and it survives I suppose you just inherited a dog." His father had moved to the door while he was speaking; as he opened the door he said, "Now I want you to show me where you found the dog."

"Can I get something to eat before we go?"

"If you can make a sandwich and eat it while we are walking."

Seamus made a sandwich in a hurry and rushed to catch up with his father, who was conferring with his mother in whispers over the dog. When he closed the door his father looked up and signaled for him to be quiet and follow him. As his father followed the path that Seamus had taken, he would occasionally pause and point out where the travois had scraped a tree or where some other long term evidence of his passage was left all without ever saying a word.

 
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