Chapter 3: Escape

“Wait for me! Wait for me!” Polly repeatedly screamed. He had never screamed that loudly before but loud as his voice was, his mother couldn’t hear him.

He ran after the vehicle. No matter how painful it was to move his legs, he ran. He ran like he never ran before.  He ran pretending to hear Basil’s voice egging him on.  But the van got tinier and tinier in his sight until it totally disappeared from a distance.

“Stupid dog!” Mr. Santos said as he watched Polly run after the van. Cornelio was about to run after Polly but -

“Cornelio, what are you doing?”

“I’m getting the dog, Sir.”

“Just go clean up. Nobody wants that dog anyway.”  Mr. Santos smirked as he walked back to his house.

Meanwhile, a few blocks away from the farm, Polly sniffed the ground. He discovered early on that sniffing was his best weapon. He may not run very fast but boy could he sniff! He realized however that it didn’t work when he was sad or afraid and right then, he felt both.

“It’s gone!” The odor coming from that particular tire of that particular van that took his mother and brothers was gone!  

He walked back to the farm with his head bowed down so low. Suddenly every step became heavy, like there was no reason to keep moving forward. His brothers were not there. And mother, oh his mother…

He lifted his head up, sniffing the air. He was back in the farm.

The place was familiar yet different. He had always associated being there with his mom and his brothers and now there was just him. He didn’t know whether Cornelio or Mr. Santos was aware that he’s back. Well, maybe they’re not. There was no food on the bowl at the corner where they usually stay.

He was not hungry anyway. Right then, he was just tired and there was this feeling like his heart was being torn to pieces.

He was so tired yet sleep eluded him. His mind would always go back to the scene of this afternoon - his last glimpse of his mom and brothers - the last time he felt them close - the last time he heard their voices.

He thought about all the stories his mom used to tell him when he didn’t want to sleep. “Oh, she told the best stories!” but the one that he liked the most was the story of the day he was born. “You are a sweet surprise!” she told him.

How he liked to feel his mother’s paws over his body and when it’s just the two of them that’s awake, he could even hear his mother’s heart - how steady the beating was and and it never failed to put him to sleep.

“Sniff, sniff.” His nostrils expanding and contracting. His mind was awakened by a scent. He was awake but he kept his eyes closed. “I have dozed off afterall.” He told himself.

Even with his eyes closed, he could tell that Mr. Santos was already doing his morning walk around the area. More than 20 feet away yet he could smell his stink.

It’s amazing how his nose could tell which humans were nice and which ones were bad by the scent they give out.  Dogs and humans were not at all different in that area, like Stinky Sally, one of Mr. Santos’ Pitbulls who was put down for attacking a smaller dog.  “I mean, I can smell her stink from afar.”

Mr. Santos, however, stank even worse than Stinky Sally. The scent that he gave out fit his features - curly well-gelled hair, pompadour style ala Elvis Presley, trimmed moustache, Saudi-gold jewelries - the perfect contra vida in a Fernando Poe movie. “Fernando Poe, who I got to know from the movies that play all day in the television at the garage.” Polly talking to himself.

He could say all these about Mr. Santos in his mind but he was terrified of him.

Besides the stink were the smell of power and money. Well those were all that Polly could sense reside in Mr. Ricky Santos’ heart… if he ever had one.

Oh, and he could smell food - the aroma of brewed coffee, burnt bacon, toasted bread. “Do they really taste as good as they smell?” was the question that was yet to be answered.

Aw! He screamed when a kick hit his body.

Polly’s eyes flew open to find that Mr. Santos was standing right in front of him. It was his pointed leather shoe that hit his side and it felt like it poked even his inner organs.

“So that was the sound of his feet I was hearing.” Polly thought to himself.  “I should really pay attention to what I am hearing next time.”

He stood up and stepped back, tail tucked between his legs. Times like these, he would’ve taken cover behind his mother. It was his mother who would take the kicks and the whips when Mr. Santos felt like doing them.

Mr. Santos squatted in front of him - “So you came back, huh?… Stupid dog!”

Polly cowered in fear. If he could fold his body even smaller, he would do it. He tried to be still but he just couldn’t stop his body from trembling. Right there, he heard the sound and smelled the scent of fear, if that was even possible.

Mr. Santos got distracted by the ringing and vibrating of the cellphone in his pocket. He took a look at the screen. It was a call that he seemed to be expecting.

“Hooo!” Polly sighed of relief. He was literally saved by the bell….well, not really a bell but the ringing of the cellphone.

For days he endured being treated like dirt. He wanted to say ‘shit.’  You know, humans, animals keeping themselves at a safe distance from him. Other times, the treatment was it’s as if he didn’t exist. He couldn’t choose which one he liked better. It’s just that he was still hoping that they would come back, and he would be together again with his family.

One morning, he felt fingers poking him.

“Is it dead?” as he felt another finger to his side.

“It’s not, Sir, but I think it’s dying… Should we take it to the vet?”

“Of course… NOT! We are not spending money on that ugly dog!” Mr. Santos then ordered Cornelio - “Put him down.”

It was difficult to say what Cornelio really was. He was neither good nor bad. He just followed what he was told. To him, this was just a job - something that let him put food on the table.  

Polly was so weak from not eating regularly. Eversince that dreadful day, Cornelio often forgot to leave some food for him and if ever he did remember, the amount was so little, it just tickled his intestines.

Sometimes, he would resort to eating whatever food he could find in the trash when he felt really really hungry.

He laid motionless on the floor near a kennel as Cornelio looked for a box where he could put him in.

“Polly! Polly!” he heard Chunky’s voice.

Weak as he was he opened his eyes.

“You gotta get out of here, Polly!

“Wh-what?” he said trying to lift his head up.

“Just listen to me… Get out of here, now! They are gonna kill you!”

“B-but…”

“No buts, Polly. You have to go now… Go, Polly!”

Still dizzy, he tried to move, at first crawling his way out of there.

“Go, Polly! You can do it, Polly!” and he wasn’t hearing Chunky’s voice anymore, he was hearing his mother, the way she used to say it to him. He pulled himself up and walked on all four legs… well, just three actually, the left hind he just dragged along.

He got out of the farm when Cornelio came back with a box. He looked all around for Polly but couldn’t find him. There was no one to ask.

“Do you know where he is?” Cornelio telling Chunky.

“Oh my God, is he talking to me?” Chunky looked away and pretended not to hear.

Cornelio shook his head - “I think I’m going crazy… talking to dogs…”

Polly had not really gone very far. He could go back if he wanted to. For a moment he battled whether to stay or to go.

He knew what to expect at the farm. No matter how terrible the status quo was, he knew. Then he turned his head to the opposite side. It seemed endless and huge and scary.

He stopped for a while and in one long deep breath he made his decision.