James raced up the path to the top of Altamanha Falls. Dad said Merlin would find his way to the visitor center below or that people would pick the puppy up along the way and drop him off there. What if they didn’t? What if Merlin couldn’t find his way back?

“Look I’m really sorry, but it’s late and I need to get ready to go to work. We’ll let the ranger know. We’ll call and come back later.”

Dad’s new job was on weekends and evenings. It sucked, but he assured them it was just a temporary thing. Something better would come along.

“We’ll come and look for him again tomorrow.” His mother reassured him. They had one car. They need to travel together. He saw an equal measure of sadness and acceptance in her eyes. Dad muttered something about a leash law and 150 bucks. A lot of bucks.

They turned their backs on him and drew closer, their voices intense whispers he couldn’t decipher. That was when he ran.

Because Merlin was a dang puppy! A puppy fer Pete’s sake! He’d never find his way to anywhere by himself. Even a nine-year-old knew that! 

That morning he thought he’d done his part before leaving home, but could he have miscounted? He flipped the light switch nine times when he got out of bed. He washed his hands nine times, with a closed door, of course, because his parents’ concern about his rituals was growing. The ones they could see anyway. But for him, those daily observations kept the world from spinning out from its axis and kept his fears, if not at bay, under control somewhat. He had tied and untied his shoelaces nine times and knocked on wood nine times. They were, after all, going for a walk in the woods. 

Had they gone shopping or to the mall instead, James could have knocked on just about anything else. In the case of a trip to the grocery store, he would only knock on grocery items—ideally a favorite one. He believed that increased the chances his mother would relent and bring it home.

James realized his rituals kept getting more complicated as events dictated, and it made him nervous. He sighed again. He did that a lot and knew it annoyed people sometimes, but life was hard for a nine-year-old. Worse, his birthday was coming up, and that would ratchet up the counting rituals to ten. He gasped. Just the thought of it almost made him weep.

A faint bark came from up ahead but off the path, and he froze. “Merlin?”

Another small bark, a puppy bark for sure.

“Merlin!” Relieved James jumped off the trail and slid down a steep carpet of fir needles, leaves, and dirt. He dodged brushes and dead branches and almost tripped on tree roots until he got his balance back. Then he raced ahead. “Merlin?”

But, nothing. There’s no barking now, no sounds at all. It’s as if the woods are holding their breath. And James did too and took nine steps toward where he thought he heard the last bark. The towering trees all around him feel indifferent.

Another faint bark, is it coming from a different direction?

His anxiety rose as he jogged toward it, and he counted to nine, turned and called out. He did that until he heard another bark, then more, loud, clear. Thank God! He follows the sounds until he sees the small dog in a ditch. A blond and hyper ball of fur jumping up and down but unable to get out.

“You dumb-dumb! Why did you run away!?” He’s crying now, but not tears of relief. The woods feel immense. How’s he going to find his way back? And his parents? He can only imagine that they’ll be pretty darn mad.

The Pomeranian-maybe-chihuahua-maybe-something mix is jumping and spinning in the tall ditch whose sides offer no purchase for its efforts. The ground sprayed Merlin with dirt and debris every time. No wonder he wasn’t getting out. James got on his butt and braced his feet on the opposite edge. Then grasped the puppy’s halter and pulled it out. His reward is a puppy writhing with joy and a face slathered in dog spit. He’s still crying but feels a little bit better.

“Okay, okay let’s go home now.”

A branch snapped behind him just then, followed by a furtive, soft step. Calculating and barely audible. Stealthy, so careful. He turned to look, puppy in arms, and the sight took his breath away.

A very large cougar paused mid-crouch is looking at him like he was the tastiest treats he’d seen in a long time.

Oh, you saw me? Spotted me? Good job, let’s just take a second to seize each other up. To judge the merits of our assets, the width and breadth of our God-given gifts. You can count to nine all day long. I have claws, fangs and live with no concerns for silly counting.

James whimpered and clutched the dog tighter as he almost crouched in fear. Knowing he should be yelling, jumping and trying to look bigger. But unable to.

Don’t fret. You’re too small to make yourself look big enough to impress me. The cougar’s eyes seem to say. It took one more confident step and loaded its powerful muscles as it readied to spring. From James’s mind, time disappeared, and thoughts of numbers and counting were no more. The coolness of the forest, the rich smell of the woods, its sounds. They are all gone. All he sees, all he feels is the cougar. He’s lost in its eyes.

And it sprung.

A loud howl shatters the moment, and a woman, screaming and windmilling her jacket leaped for the cougar at the very same time colliding with it midair and shoving it to the ground.

“James! Run!” His mother screamed.

Her eyes were wide and wild and looked fiercer than the cougar’s. A mom to obey, but his feet feel nailed to the ground. The cougar hadn’t any such problems. It spun on landing and leaped toward his mom. Screaming, she kicked, punched and whipped it using her jacket like it was a whip. Once, twice, a third time. Until in an explosion of leaves and dirt the wild cat shot into the woods and disappeared from sight in seconds.

She grabbed him and puppy both in a tight, almost painful embrace and ran. Her harsh breathing, her loud heartbeats, her wild brown hair that covers and sticks to his sweat-coated skin. The sounds of her feet hitting the ground, and worst of all, her fear. James felt all of that and the fear is contagious but at the same time he wondered, how can someone who body slams a cougar be afraid of anything?

She didn’t stop running until the visitor’s center was in plain sight, where at last she slowed to an unsteady walk, gasping for air as she caught her breath. And let him down on the path, looking into his wide eyes that look too large, too vulnerable. She hugged him again and kissed his face over and over. Merlin yips as he’s squeezed between the two. They look at each other, amazed, but for entirely different reasons. She sees her husband come running from the other side of the path and heaves a sigh of relief. They are all accounted for.

“I was about to call for help!” His voice is angry, but she can still hear the fear in there. He grabbed one of James’ shoulders before doing the unthinkable. Something he has never done before. He spun the boy around, and gave him a hard swat on the butt. “Don’t you ever do that to us again!”

James starts crying again as they walk back to the parking lot. By the time they are sitting in the car, everyone’s sense of reality is back to normal. In the back seat the puppy is already asleep in James’ lap. From the driver seat his dad turns around and grasps James’ knee gently.

“Everything is okay kiddo. All right? I love you. We love you, understand? You matter a lot more than a dog does. You gave us a big, big scare.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“That’s okay buddy. That’s okay, everything is okay.”  He replied and patted his leg one last time before he turned around and started the car. “Put on your seat belt.”

James does, very softly he latched and unlatched the seatbelt latch nine times, he looks from his father to his mother and catches her tap three times on her thigh, the three times on the dashboard, she doesn’t turn but their eyes catch in the rearview mirror, and she smiles at him.

“Nine is too many. Only three times and only once a day.”

His dad glanced at her and then returned to staring straight ahead.

She tried to relax, her tight shoulder muscles dropping slowly, an inch per each mile that placed more distance between her and the falls. Her and the cougar. She stretched her clenched jaws with a wide yawn, and then stretched her legs as far as well of the passenger seat allowed.

A cougar, a damn cougar could have killed him! It could have…it could..it…My God! The thought sent her heartbeats skyrocketing, her face went cold, and her stomach twisted. She shut her eyes and forced herself to calm down. A good mother doesn’t scare her child. Silently and carefully, making sure not to be seen, especially by her sharp-eyed son, she pulled her coat over her hands and tapped, tapped, tapped all the way home.

By Wren Cavanagh

This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyrighted 2024 Notch Publishing House

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