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Chapter One
There was still one dangerous, reckless leftover, something that frightened all of us, from the days when Friar Tuck Golden Boy was a sighted, free-running dog, apt to roam all around the neighborhood and his favorite haunt, Montclair Park.
The leftover was an occasional jaunt without his guide dog, Lady Daisy, or me, Helen Ogden.
Having been hit by a car almost in front of our house not too long after the light faded, you'd think he would have learned a lesson. Not so. Behind those gooshie gray eyes was always an independent and defiant "I'll show you" spirit.
I have in mind a Tuesday afternoon in March when I returned from school to find Lady Daisy alone in the backyard.
Calling for him, I looked around inside the house, thinking he'd used the dog door to go back in. I looked in every room. No Tuck.
Daisy had followed me and I said, "Where is he?"
Her tail wagged but that wasn't much help. That tail wagged a lot for one reason or another. I did a second search of the house and then returned to the backyard. He'd been known to gather speed and take a flying leap over the back fence, clearing it from memory, I guess. Dogs do have memory capability, probably better than any other animal.
It was about three-thirty, an hour and a half before dark, and I went back into the house, wrote a note to Mother saying Tuck was loose, leashed Daisy and took his leash along. Off we went in search of that stubborn Labrador.
This was the third time since we'd acquired Lady Daisy that Tuck had gone off on his own, and twice before we'd found him in the park, doing what he could spend hours doing-sniffing every treetrunk and bush. just how he navigated, safely or not, crossing Denham and going on into the park, was unknown.
Of course, there are many known cases of dogs traveling miles, even hundreds of miles, back to their homes. Cats too. But I think those animals were sighted and used the combination of sight and smell to return to their families. Tuck had only the latter, of course.
True, he knew his way along Cheltenham, having marked it with urine day after day, but getting across Denham was another matter and I could only guess that he "heard" his way across, waiting until all car noises were gone, then hurrying to the next curb. I could almost see him doing that.
But it was a dangerous thing to do and I'd reacted with a mixture of fright and anger the other two times he'd run away. I just wanted to get my hands on him.
It took less than a minute to cover the three quarters of a block, cross the street and get into the park. I went by the fountain with Daisy and looked everywhere, even standing up on the edge of the pool, getting some added height, shouting his name. No sign of the yellow dog.
Then we started off in more or less his usual pattern of exploring, moving along Denham and going toward the Wickenham boundary, then turning back toward the Cheltenham boundary.
Whoever I passed, I asked, "Have you seen a big yellow Labrador?"
I got "no" answers.
"He's blind," I said.
"Sorry," was what they said.
Yes it was a sorry state and the sun was sinking lower over Los Angeles with every minute. Soon the rushhour traffic would be building up on Denham and every other street around the park. Cars often traveled Wickenham at forty and fifty miles per hour.
In the darkness the drivers would be lucky to see Tuck. He'd be lucky if they did see him. That miserable dumb hound! No, he wasn't dumb-just miserable.
"Where is he?" I yelled at Lady Daisy, angry at her for not stopping him, realizing at the same time that there was no way she cou Id prevent him from jumping the fence.
I very seldom swore when I was in my early teens but I did that late afternoon. I damned Tuck every which way. It would be back on the chain for him and I knew how he hated those steel links.
Within ten minutes I knew he wasn't in the park and went straight over to Ledbetter's to ask greengrocer Mr. Ishihara if he'd seen the dog. Tuck well knew the route to the market. Mr. Ishihara shook his head.
Where? Oh, where?
Had he followed another hound away? A bitch in heat? Possible. He was very much a ladies' man and had yet to be spayed.
Had he been kidnapped? Pure-bred yellow Labs were targets for thieves but I didn't think he'd go along willingly with anyone.
Had he been hit by a car already and taken to a vet? Worse, had he been killed?
I began running along Denham, all of those thoughts whirling around in my head. I was beginning to get panicky. Anger was going away, a sick fright replacing it. After ten or twelve blocks on Denham I started back for the park to take another look there.
A steady stream of headlights went in both directions on Denham and cold darkness now transformed the park into an unfriendly place of deep shadows. With Lady Daisy at my side, I wasn't afraid of the shadows.
Again shouting for Tuck, I circled the park on a run and then decided to go home on the chance that he'd returned.
Bursting into the kitchen, I said, "Is he here?"
Mother shook her head, saying, "I'm glad you're back. Do you realize how dark it is out there?"
"I'm going to find him," I said, trembling, tears beginning to fall. Though confident about most other things, I still got weepy over Tuck.
"Calm down, Helen," she said. "Your father will be home in a little while and we'll all look for him."
Tuck Triumphant. Copyright © by Theodore Taylor. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.