Butch has been stolen and sold to a fight farm. It’s the middle of the night before the big fights and a stranger has appeared.
Butch’s Big Adventure: Part 4.
Marla snipped away at the cyclone wire fence to our compound. While Marla snipped, Amazon went back to Choppers cage. He was watching the intruders at the fence, a low snarl rumbling his throat. But that was all. Somewhere in his messed up brain he must have suspected something good was happening or he would have been raising hell. Amazon spoke to him, explained that we were being rescued. She addressed him the way she always did, with affection, dog to dog, bypassing the fact that he was completely insane. He continued to snarl, but his ears twitched.
Back at the fence, Abel, Cain and myself sat on our haunches, exited, but being the best good dogs we could possibly be. Marla explained the plan, then Rick and Ben strolled back through the camp to their van to wait for us there.
Most of the men were drunk and sleeping now, in cars and tents. Many had their dogs with them for tomorrow’s fights. The fighters followed Rick and Ben with their eyes. Two more humans were no dog’s business though. The real test would come when we dogs passed through the camp. If just one of those visiting dogs didn’t like us walking free, if they kicked up about it, a chain reaction would bring the whole camp down on our heads. So the plan was for Amazon to lead, calming the other dogs as we went. Most of the visiting fighters knew Amazon, or knew of her. She was a natural pack leader. They would listen to her.
Marla opened a hole big enough for us all to slip through. We looked to Amazon to go first. Instead she took Marla back to Chopper’s cage. I peed.
Chopper bared his fangs and his red eyes glared, hyper alert to every movement Marla made. She looked at the ground while Amazon soothed. Chopper growled, a quiet rumble, but that was all. If anyone else had approached his cage he would have woken up the whole camp. Amazon explained the plan to him, all he had to do was to follow her. We would quietly slip away and he would never have to see the farm, or the master, again.
Choppers ears twitched. Marla snipped away at his cage and once the hole was opened, he stepped through.
Immediately he was off, charging across the yard and through the outer fence, bellowing like a pack of hounds in chase. He headed straight for the master’s house. Every dog in the camp was suddenly awake, shouting, barking, instant bedlam. Van doors slid open, men stumbled out of their tents. Some grabbed their guns.
In the confusion we made a dash for the van but Chopper was making such a racket he drew all the attention on to himself. No one took any notice of us. We made it to the van, jumped in, closed the doors and sat as quiet as trees.
I peeped out the window. Chopper was at the big house, bellowing for the master. With a crash the door flew open and the master stepped out, drunk, confused, and very angry. He was confronted with Chopper, screaming and leaping about. The master had his electric stick. He pointed it at Chopper, stepped forward, thought better of it, went back in the house and got his gun. He raised the gun to his shoulder but too late. Chopper was on him. The master screamed but not for long as Chopper ripped out his throat. Chopper stood over the jerking body and howled.
The circle of men were stunned. Chopper snarled and they backed away. One raised his gun but Chopper charged and he leapt out of his way. The crowd parted and Chopper bounded through. I watched spellbound as he raced away across the paddock, lit bright by the full moon. He stopped and for a brief moment he stared back at us. That image of Chopper, radiant, wild and free, is burned into my brain. Then he disappeared into the rain forest.
Men were milling about, confused, shouting at each other. Dogs barked and pulled at their chains. Two dogs broke free and followed Chopper into the rain forest. I dropped to the floor of the van and Marla threw some old blankets over us. Men were pulling down tents and throwing stuff in their cars, shouting at their dogs.
Dog fights are illegal and suddenly no one wanted to be there. In the confusion Rick backed out the van, spun the wheels and we were off, bouncing along the dirt track.
Back in a strangers van, once again a dumb dog in the hands of fate.
But oh, how my liberated heart soared.
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To be continued …