The Home From Which We'll Never Roam

Trusty let himself slide back down to the floor as he saw the reaction his words had on Scamp. He could tell the whole thing still bothered the younger dog, but as long as he wasn't going to do something foolish, Trusty was willing to let it go at that. His heavy-lidded eyes half-closed as he felt himself starting to relax, lulled by the warmth coming off the radiator, and the familiar comfort of the kitchen floor. Unlike his neighbors, the old hound had never taken to sleeping on soft surfaces. He preferred firmer beds, such as the porch, or maybe a carpet.

But as Scamp spoke up again, his brow rose, making his pendulous jowls seem even longer as he regarded Scamp in mild surprise. He frowned a bit, halfway between being offended, and understanding. He wound up landing somewhere in the middle. "Well, that's what families are supposed to do for one another. Look out for each other, and ease each other's burdens," he said firmly. Then a small grin tugged at the folds of his jowls as he dismissed Scamp's concerns. "Besides, I'm not offering to take over as a messenger for your general."

If need be, he'd take a message to said general, but he wouldn't hang around to wait for a reply, either. He wasn't interested in joining any army, that was for certain. And he certainly wasn't going to let someone he didn't even know order him around. He snorted softly. "I may not be as young as I once was, and, uh, maybe I'm not quite as fit either, but I've got some grit in me still," he said, a challenging glint in his otherwise soft gaze.

"Now, before you turn me down flat, at least wait until it's time to return Jim's reply," he said, his tone of voice making his words more of a suggestion than an order. Scamp might change his mind when faced with returning.

Scamp shrugged, tilting his head to one side slightly as he did. One eye brow arched as he did so.

"I don't think Jim Dear has even looked at it. I gave it to him, and he just held it out in front of him with this confused look on his face. Until he saw the seal. Then he gave this really mean look...like...not like he was angry, and he didn't say anything. He just put aside and focused on me instead..."

The pup grimiced, recalling how his master had then unceremoniously dumped him right into the sink. Didn't even wait for Scamp to get his messenger bags off. From the sink it was into the tin bath tub. Since the dog's departure, the tin had been stored in the same Linen closet as their baskets. Scamp had not missed it. The soap, lather, and grooming had always been a shore. When he emrged from the bath, however, he relized his leg fur had become very noticeable. Sure, he knew it was growing out when he was in the encampnet, but after shampooing....

...his legs, started to look like Lady's.

From the same closet had come his bed, a much more welcome re-introduction then the tin. For the first time in almost four months. Scamp had a deep night's sleep.

"Like I said, not like I'm in any rush to return," He snorted, wrinkling his muzzle as he did. "You can say I left behind a bit of a mess."

Trusty wasn't all that surprised. Public sentiment in Marceline was more or less ambivalent towards the war. Most people seemed content to simply let the war happen, as long as it stayed across the ocean, and didn't impact their lives in any meaningful way. But he couldn't help but grin a bit when Scamp mentioned being the focus of Jim's attention. The grey pup's aversion to bathing was well known.

"Well, I can't say I'm all that surprised. Most folks around here, uh, aren't too keen on getting involved. I reckon Jim's not all that keen on it, either. Especially not after, uh, after...well, we were hit rather hard, uh, when we found out..." he trailed off, unable to bring himself to talk about Lady's death out loud. He'd watched her grow up, shared her joy at receiving her license, and the happiness her first litter had brought to the family. It broke his heart that she had died before him. It just wasn't right for the old to linger while the young perished.

"Well, I reckon you'll have plenty of time to relax, and rest. Uh, if, uh, you have any problems, uh, being alone in your home, you're always welcome here," he said, glad to be able to change the subject. He figured it was possible that the silence in the Dear house might be too much to bear. If Scamp needed to escape that silence, Trusty's home was always open. As far as whatever mess Scamp had left behind, it was up to the young dog to share, if he wanted to. It would be rude to pry.

"I reckon you'll be, uh, making more than one trip here, if that letter really is urgent. If, uh, at any time, you, uh, feel the need to talk about, uh, well, anything, I'm ready to lend an ear," he said. "But I reckon it might behoove you to, uh, try to forget about your troubles, at least for a little while so you can rest," he added. Forgetting those troubles for good wouldn't work. But for a short time, it might be of benefit.

A broad smile crossed Scamp's maw, and he visibly relaxed at Trusty's offer to let him spend some time at the home next door. While it had yet to really get under his fur, the silence in the dear home was palpable. He had always remembered the home for the soft giggling of his sisters, the playful antics of his mother, and the sometimes overbearing presence his father cast. Without them, the home, while still very much warm and welcoming...seemed empty.

Perhaps though, it wasn't the silence that drew a chill down his spin. But the distinctive lack of their presence in the form of objects. When he was a pup, there where always balls, pillows, and the occasional toy laying somewhere around. Of course the house was kept nice a neat. But he could always find a pillow on the floor to relax with. (or play "chase" with the old man in much happier times)

But it was all put away. Jim had to fetch his own basket from the closet. Upon his arrival at the home, the only sign that dogs had lived there was the family portrait atop the piano, alongside an old collar of Lady's. Placed as if in memorial of his fallen mother.

"Thanks Uncle Trusty. I'm sure I'll take you up on that offer when I can."

A hind leg went up to scratch again at his neck. Cruse that dog shampoo, it had been so long that  the feeling of being clean and the silky smoothness of his fur was a new sensation he would have to get used to.

"So, changing the subject, how have you been holding up? Uncle Jock said you caught some sort of illness. How have you been holding up here?"

Trusty couldn't help but grin at Scamp's reaction to his offer. It was the least he could do. He'd been tempted many times to head to Africa himself, but, so far at least, he'd talked himself out of it. He'd actually been ready to depart for the war when he fell sick, putting an end to that plan. And now, while he was well over it, he still didn't feel quite as fit as he had been before his illness.

His grin slipped when Scamp brought up said illness, and he sighed softy. That cursed tick! Through all his life spent tracking down criminals through the swamps of Louisiana, and never once had he ever gotten sick. And here he was, living in retirement, and a tick of all things made him sick enough to bring Jock back from the war. He'd been grateful for the presence of his closest friend, but it hadn't been easy to cope with being so sick. And to top it off, scarcely had he recovered when that dreadful message had arrived. He'd never see Lady ever again.

"I'm, uh, all over it, now. As fit as I ever was," he stated, a subtle tone to his voice just daring Scamp to contradict him. He might admit, to himself at least, that he wasn't as fast as he had once been, and lacked the endurance of his youth, but he wasn't about to admit to any weakness. "Otherwise, it's been, uh, well, rather quiet around here. But I've been doing just fine in, uh, in both mind and, uh, in body."

As he gazed at his nephew, he was suddenly struck by just how much similarity there was between Scamp and Lady. The legs, and the eyes, both looked like hers. Even Scamp's smile reminded him of Lady. It seemed like only yesterday when they'd first met, him already well on in age, she just a pup. Hard as it was, knowing he'd never see her again, it still brought him comfort to know that she still lived on through her children.

"I see so much of her in you," he said softly, wistfully.

The grey canine bowed his head, and gently smiled at the compliment. It was the first time anyone had brought up his mother without instantly fallowing it with anger at his father or Cash, or great sadness. His uncle had the right idea. Lady's life had been one to be celebrated, and remembered fondly.  Scamp could still close his eyes and remember her corralling him when he was very little. remember her holding him in between her forelegs while she caressed the top of his head with a soft tongue.

He found that her death no longer made him sad. In fact, the exact opposite, as he realized that the air around her memories seems to have changed.

"You know Uncle Trusty, strangest thing. I hadn't given it much thought, but it doesn't make me sad anymore. In fact, I feel like she wasn't even dead...like I half expected to ram into her in the camp, or find her in Jim Dear's parlor. All of the suddenly it just changed."

His turned his head and cast his gaze side to side, as if making sure they would not be overheard before continuing. Looking back at Trusty, his voice grew low, close to w whisper.

"The other day, right before I left...I swear I saw her. I swear...I heard mom's voice. With Uncle Jock..." He wasn't going to tell his uncle about how he had stalked out the supply train in an attempt to hop a ride. Only to see in the distance in the training grounds what looked to be his Uncle Jock with a cocker that looked very much like his mother. At first he wrote it off as being Annie or Cole, the two where getting big. But when he heard her voice...the pup had bolted.

"I'm not crazy, am I?"

Trusty's smile returned, and he nodded slightly. He still had moments where he half-expected to wake up and find Lady and Jock out on his porch, or to see her and the rest of her family passing by on the sidewalk, heading out for or coming back from a long walk, or a day at the park. While he still felt saddened by her death, and he certainly wasn't pleased with the Tramp, he'd long ago leaned to deal with the loss of a loved one. Namely, his grand-pappy, Old Reliable.

He blinked, and copied Scamp's motion, looking about before leaning closer to the younger dog in an almost conspiratorial manner. For a moment, he just stared, blinking a bit, mulling over what Scamp had said. It simply wasn't possible for the young canine to have heard his mother's voice. But, he suspected he knew what had happened. He slowly shook his head, long ears and drooping jowls swinging slightly with the motion.

"No, you're not crazy," he said, a fond smile on his face. "It's uh, it's...well, sometimes, when you're tired, you, uh...see things, or, uh, hear things, that aren't there. I reckon it was one of your sisters, and, uh, you were likely more tired than you might have, uh, realized," he stated, offering what he considered a reasonable explanation. It was plain to see that Scamp certainly wasn't crazy.

The young canine nodded, feeling better. It was a logical explanation, and he wasn't exactly in a right frame of line at the time. Uncle Tristy was right, he probably saw Annette or Collette. Thinking about his sisters did bring on a small pang of guilt though. They where still out there at Priderock, still in a war zone while he rested in their happy little home.

"Yah, your right. I was pretty darn tired...in fact, the last month I've been having all sorts of, uh...issues, sleeping." His ears flopped back, and he gave a awkward grin. "You know, long nights of unrest, nightmares, that sort of thing. Nothing I couldn't deal with mind you! But it did make me feel really exhausted most of the time I was awake."

He turned his head towards the window. watching the ice crystals sticking to the glass pains, the air before the window was distorted from the heat emanating from the radiator.

"I'm so happy to be home..." his voice was calm, and an honist sort of joy could be detected. "I actually had my first real good sleep here last night."

Trusty nodded slightly to himself. He'd suspected as much. Between dealing with Lady's death, and participating in a war, Scamp was bound to be exhausted. More than he likely knew. Or, apparently, was willing to admit. The old hound couldn't help but grin a bit. He was the same way at that age.

"Well, I can't really say I'm all that surprised to hear it, being in such strenuous circumstances as you were," he said, idly scratching at his shoulder. "But, uh, I reckon it's a real blessing that you were sent here, uh, so you could rest, safely away from the war," he added, letting his hind paw drop to the floor with a dull thump. He was relieved to hear that Scamp's troubled dreams apparently hadn't followed him home.

"I'm happy to see a familiar face, uh, myself," Trusty said, the look in his eyes echoing the tone in Scamp's voice. "I reckon you'll sleep quite soundly here, uh, as long as you don't take to fretting over anything," he added. It was a shame Scamp would have to return to Africa, but that was the price he was going to have to pay. He'd joined the war as a soldier, after all.

"I don't reckon things look, uh, like they might be, uh, quieting down over there?" he asked, blinking a couple of times. What news he'd heard hadn't been all that clear. Other than that none of the armies involved had made very many advances. And he dearly longed to see his nieces, and his dear friend Jock.

The young gray furred mongrel rolled his eyes.

"Nothing is happening, other then people trying to get themselves killed...sometimes succeeding. The war is still going along, no one is any close to victory then they where when I left," He dropped his head to his forepaws, almost as if he himself was defeated. "And it doesn't look like that is going to change. It;s just going to get bigger...."

His mind unconsciously returned to the scroll laying on the writing desk in the hallway. Before he had left, Mooch asked him how it was that he was not tempted to open it. Now, he wasn't entirely sure. He made a mental agreement with himself to be present, perhaps as a fly on the wall, when Jim Dear opened it. 

"Too much has happened. Dani is still with Scar's army, and Angel is...well..." Brown eyes looked up into the wised eyes and wrinkled maw of the bloodhound. Somethings where better of left unsaid, and this was one of them. "She is handling things."

The pup did allow the ends of his maw, planted as it was on his forelegs, to turn up in a small subtle smile as he recalled Jinx and Misten. He raised his head slightly, to look up at the hound, suddenly realizing it was in the same perspective as some of his earliest memories. He instantly wondered if Jinx and Misten would have the same memories of him one day. Never mind that when he had been introduced to them, their eyes had yet to open.

"Uncle Trusty...have you ever wondered what it would be like to have pups?"

Trusty's face twisted into a look of disgust, and he snorted softly. While it wasn't what he had hoped to hear, he wasn't all that surprised. The mere fact that there had been hardly any major advances, other than the HVs moving form Paris to Agrabah, in the whole year spoke for itself.

And to think that Dani had upped and enlisted in the cause of a murderer, someone who had killed his own brother, really rankled in his mind. But he didn't blame the errant daughter as much as he did the father. He dismissed said dog from his thoughts, an nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as he considered what Scamp had said, and left unsaid. That slight hesitation carried some weight behind it.

But all thought of what Scamp might be keeping to himself faded in the face of the sudden surge of emotion the young dog's question had unleashed. Trusty abruptly rose to his feet and paced to the kitchen window, staring unseeing at the snow covered yard as he once more faced something that he had long ago tucked away, deep inside. He remained silent for a long moment before glancing over his shoulder at Scamp, an almost wistful look in his eyes vanishing beneath a stern look.

"Not in a long time. Not since before I came here," he said, his voice stiff and formal, ending with a definite note of finality. That subject was closed to discussion. It was something he had never once talked about, even with Jock. He turned to face Scamp, and padded back towards him, letting himself relax. "But I had your mother, and you all," he said, his smile returning as he once more stretched out on the floor. He had always viewed Lady as almost a daughter, and he felt the same sort of affection for her offspring.

Scamp was slightly surprised by the sudden surge of emotion that etched itself into the bloodhound's long face. He rose to her four legs as Trusty padded over to the window, staring distantly at the snow covered yard. There was a moment of silence as the younger canine absorbed the implication. There was something more then his wised uncle was willing to admit...and like his own feelings for his half-sister, Scamp knew that some things where better left unsaid.

"Yah, you and my folks where pretty close..." His voice was low, reverent. As a pup, he always remembered how close all the adults had seemed, Uncle Jock and Uncle Trusty, mom, pop. At one point (much to his frustration) it seemed he couldn't get away from any of them. Despite the noticeable age difference between his folks, and the two neighboring dogs. They seemed to have always been friends, and always would have been.

 Oh pop, why did you have to throw it all away?

Scamp lowered his head, and silently clamped his jaw around a ribbon of beef, chomping down slowly, and silently. Not much unlike a saddened man sitting at a bar, nursing a drink in an attempt to forget it all.

"I remember you used to tell us all the time about how and Uncle Jock "saved my pa from certain death. Mom once said she could never repay you two for that....that it was the best gift anyone had ever given to her."

They had all been close, alright. Closer than being merely dear friends, they had been family in all but blood. Always there when needed, ready to stand by one another no matter what. In many ways, that desperate run through the night in pursuit of a dogcatcher's wagon had been what had truly drawn them together into a true family. And it had been what had finally softened Trusty's opinion of mongrels in general.

"Well, it wouldn't have been right to leave him to die for something he didn't do. Doing the right thing isn't something that needs repaying," he said, smiling gently, if a bit wistfully. Yes, he'd been fond of telling the story, just as he'd always been fond of telling stories of the time he'd tracked criminals alongside his grandfather, but even if he'd known he'd come so close to death, he still would've raced after that wagon. Even if he'd known that, after getting his leg broken, it would still bother him at times, even if he had never showed it.

"But it was one wild chase. Not that I ever doubted we'd find the wagon, mind you, but it was still one tense night, racing down those muddy, soaked streets. Of course, I have to admit I was slowed up when we had to pass through a small flooded intersection," he said, head tilted back as he lost himself in the memory of that night, nostalgia sweeping over him.

Scamp chuckled, in that warm way which only him and his father where able to. He had heard this story many times before. Their mother had one rule about their Uncle Trusty...you always listen to his stories.

"Yep, and Uncle Jock though all was lost, but your old trusty nose proved him wrong, and you picked up the scent!"

The mongrel could almost quote the story by heart. he had grown up with it, been put to bed by it, and it had become a part of his childhood. Hearing it spoken, from the horse's mouth no less, brought back memories. He took a deep breath, the smile still etched onto his muzzle, before allowing his eyes to drift back over to the window behind Trusty. The snow was starting to fall again.

"I guess I probably should get going again. Jim Dear should be getting home from work any moment now, and I should be in the house when he arrives. Thank you Uncle Trusty, it's been a blast."

Scamp rose to his four legs, and started to pad across the kitchen. His nails clicking on the smooth tile-work. Soon Jim would have to clip them, something the mongrel wasn't looking forward to. Funny, as much as he was glad to be home, some things about the "House-pet life" still irked him.

He stopped for a second, and then looked back at his Uncle. Opening his maw as if to say something more...one last question about the scroll, but he suddenly felt better of it, and closed his maw.  Giving a kindly nod of his head.

"Don't be afraid to stop by when you can...It gets a bit lonely in that house sometimes."