The three adults and two puppies jumped to their feet and made a mad dash for the opening. Shelley chuckled. Bobby and Bucky, the male and female puppies, led the cavalry charge and reached the threshold first. They burst through the opening nearly bowling over Misha, the leader of their canine corps. As one, the two youngsters leaped off the top of the deck, soaring high into the air. Brother and sister then bounded off into the darkness to enjoy a last minute game of catch-the-other-guy's-tail.
Unpreterbed by the young ones impertinence, Misha stayed at Shelley's side on the deck. He observed the maneuvers below him like a general surveying his troops. Although he sternly insisted upon the respect of all the resident canines, Misha would allow the puppies liberties that would not be permitted in anyone else.
This was especially the case with Bucky, the little female. For instance, just when he would be about to drift off into a delicious snooze, Bucky would decide that it was time to play. She would bounce up to Misha and insistently paw at his closed eyes. Instead of being irritated, Misha would ignore her. Not to be discouraged Bucky would play-bow at his side and yap several times in his ear. Still, no reaction. As a last resort, Bucky would dash in close, nip Misha's ear with her needle sharp teeth and leap out of harms way.
If any other adult member of their group had disturbed him, Misha would be quick to reprimand the offender for his or her insubordination. But this was Bucky. He did nothing but solemnly peer at her through the slit of a half opened eye and wish that she would just go away. Bucky would excitedly respond to this breakthrough with a salvo of yaps. Thumping her fuzzy little tail furiously against the carpet, she would crouch innocently, an inch from Misha's nose, eager to be chased. And since this was Bucky, Misha always complied.
The two puppies raced in and out of the shadows and then patrolled further out to the perimeter. After watching them streak by the deck several times, Shelley started to round up the troops. The three adults fell into line and marched up the steps into the house.
Hearing a disturbance along the fenceline Bucky and Bobby sounded a charge. Their small bodies blended into the blackness as they galloped to the side of the enclosure. Shelley heard the two pups challenging the stray dog on the other side. There was a scraping noise, then quiet.
Shelley immediately came to attention. She had learned that when dealing with puppies there was no other sound that meant trouble more than silence. Hurriedly feeling her way out to the distant fenceline she called for her two furry sentinels. She gasped when she saw that a huge branch from a nearby oak tree had fallen during the rainstorm and crushed the top half of the barrier. Bucky and Bobby had apparently scrambled over the remaining portion and had now vanished into the night.
Frantically Shelley called again. After a moment she heard a response. It was Bobby, the male puppy. He was whimpering and trying to climb up over the fence back into the yard. Clapping her hands, Shelley called him to the low spot and lifted him into her arms. Shelley called again and again. Bucky, his impish sister, was gone.
Shelley petted and praised the puppy against her chest and sprinted back into the house. Bobby seemed none the worse for his encounter with the intruder. It was so dark she knew there was no way she would be able to see Bucky even if she was only a few feet away. She deposited Bobby in a crate and ordered the adults to theirs.
As she was slamming the crate doors shut Shelley realized that the chances of locating her puppy at 11:00 at night were slim to none. The neighborhood was a labyrinth of intersecting streets and avenues leading out to a busy 4-lane highway. How in the world would she know which way to go?
Shelley ran out of the dog room and tripped over a canvas bag on the floor. It contained Misha's scent articles for his obedience training. Leather and metal dumbbells were kicked everywhere. She would just have to pick them up later. She grabbed a flashlight and raced across the living room. Her mind was racing wildly, imagining all sorts of horrible endings to her precocious little pup.
Her hand reached for the front doorknob, then stopped. She turned and looked again at the scent articles scattered across the floor. The scent discrimination was one of Misha's favorite exercises. Doing an about-face Shelley also remembered something else. Earlier in the year Shelley and Misha had enjoyed a tracking class. Of course! She would ask Misha to find Bucky!
Shelley ran back to Misha's crate. She flung open the door and attached a leash to his collar. They ran out the front door and around to the low spot at the fenceline. She ordered Misha to "down" as she usually did at the first marker on a tracking course. Taking a deep breath, she gave the command that her dog was accustomed to for finding a scent article in the obedience ring or a glove on a tracking course. Only this time there was much more at stake. She prayed that he would understand what she needed him to do. Instead of a glove or dumbbell, she was going to ask him to locate something much more precious, their little Bucky.
"Misha, find it. Find Bucky," she commanded. " Bucky. Find Bucky. Find it!" Misha looked at her, cocked his head and lowered his muzzle, sniffing the ground. Misha paused a moment. He gazed back at Shelley then buried his muzzle into the leaves, exploring - searching - seeking. Seconds ticked by. "Bucky, find Bucky. Find it," Shelley pleaded trying to choke back a sob.
Misha continued to look for Bucky's scent. Hurry, Misha, hurry! Shelley thought. The distant high pitched screech of a car skidding to a stop punctuated the peace of the winter night. Shelley felt sick. What if that car had to slam on its brakes because of Bucky! Hurry, Misha, Hurry! Shelley started to panic. Maybe she should forget this and try to find Bucky on her own. She just hoped that she wouldn't be too late. Maybe she should -
Suddenly Misha jumped up. He dashed across the front lawn almost dislocating Shelley's arm as he dragged her with him. Shelley almost fell. Misha flew with his head lowered out to the street. Standing in one spot, he dropped his head again and spun around in a tight circle on the pavement. "Misha, find Bucky, find it!," Shelley encouraged. Misha paused. Raising his head, he pricked his ears, looked to the North and bolted. Shelley was ready for the jolt this time. They were off!
Shelley ran as fast as she could to keep up. She did not want to deter her dog's effort by pulling back on the leash. Every few strides, Misha would lower his head and cast his head from side to side. Never did he slacken his pace. At the corner, Misha took a right. They sped down another block and Misha turned left. Shelley started to lose her breath. Still she mentally urged, hurry Misha, hurry.
Together, Misha and she pounded down a third block. The houses and driveways dissolved into a steady blur. Her ears were filled with the thud of her footsteps or was it her heart? Shelley hoped she was doing the right thing. Maybe she should have used her car instead to cruise the neighborhood. Was Misha trying to find Bucky? There was no way to tell except to trust him. So Shelley did.
They took a quick right and ran and ran. Suddenly Shelley noticed that Misha was not lowering his head to the pavement anymore. He slowed to a walk and wagged his tail. "Oh Misha," Shelley gasped, her chest heaving. "Have you just been enjoying a late night run this whole time?"
Misha stopped, turned around and looked at her. They stood in the middle of the street about 8 feet from a street light. Misha was pulling on his leash to investigate an empty lot. All around them was black. The cars speeding along the highway buzzed in the background. Shelley leaned over her breathing labored. She staggered a few steps and stood upright again. "Misha, where oh where can our Bucky be?" Shelley panted.
Something about the way Misha continued to glance at her then out an empty lot they had just passed made Shelley wonder. Misha again glanced up at Shelley and then looked out into the darkness. No, it can't be, Shelley thought. Could it possibly be? Shelley finally understood what he was trying to tell her. She slowly turned her head. Staring blindly into the blackness, she inquired hopefully, "Bucky?" Then louder. "Bucky come!"
A few moments later, Shelly heard something or someone coming from the direction of the empty lot. Bucky, the A.W.O.L. pup, appeared in the small circle of light beneath the nearby streetlight. Shelley could only stare in disbelief as Bucky scampered up to them and happily licked a greeting all over Misha's muzzle.
"Bucky, it's really you!," Shelley exclaimed in amazement. Forcing herself to action she bent over and scooped up the juvenile. She cuddled Bucky under her chin, wrapping her arms around her. Shelley revelled in the sweet smell of puppy breath; the tickle of soft fur against her cheek. A little pink tongue warmed her face. She inhaled slowly and deeply, treasuring each sensation.
Shelley felt the inquiring prod of Misha's nose against her elbow. She smiled down at her hero. "Misha, I still can't believe you did it," she confessed. Kneeling on the pavement, Shelley drew her dog to her and gave him a hug to apologize. She had never felt more proud of her "Misha impossible". She crooned to him in a soft voice and stroked his head. She wished he knew how thankful she was. Her world normal once again, Shelley stood upright and began the long trek back home.
The tired threesome turned the last corner and detected the welcoming brightness of their small house. All was quiet as they entered within. Shelley unclipped Misha's leash and then released Bucky to the safe confines of the kitchen floor. The errant pup made a beeline for the water dish and lapped noisily. Misha joined in. Her muzzle still dripping, Bucky reared back on her haunches, swatted at Misha's face and yapped. Misha just sighed in satisfaction and plopped down on the floor. Bucky followed suit. In only a moment they were both sound asleep.
The two Siberians breathed deeply in unison. They depicted an image of tenderness and contentment. Bucky's head, pillowed by Misha's side, gently rose and fell with each of his breaths. Emitting short little yips Bucky relived her nights adventure in her puppy dreams; her small white paws first thrashing about her then slowing to an intermittent twitch.
Shelley opened the cabinet to look for a special treat. Siberians are sure full of surprises, she reflected. Just when you think you know your Siberian, he does something to remind you all over again how truly lucky you are to share your life with one.
Now what could she find to reward Misha, she mused. She glanced from Misha then back to Bucky. Why it almost looked like they both were smiling. She then realized that she didn't have to find a special way to tell Misha how grateful she was. Bucky was doing it for her.