McTavish Goes Wild Read online

  Which was, he thought, extremely likely.

  Despite noises in the night, most of which were made by Ollie pretending to be a grizzly bear, all the Peacheys slept very well in the tent.

  The next morning, Betty volunteered to make breakfast.

  Pa Peachey made coffee.

  Ava made a fire.

  Ollie slept.

  Ma Peachey produced a frying pan, some sausages, a loaf of bread, and some eggs.

  Betty cooked the sausages over the fire. Then she fried the eggs. While everything else was cooking, Ava and Pa Peachey toasted slices of bread on long forks over the fire, which worked almost as well as a toaster. Nobody minded that the bread was a little bit burnt.

  They all ate sausage-and-egg sandwiches, including McTavish, whose favorite food was pretty much anything. Ollie managed to get out of bed exactly when breakfast was ready.

  Afterward, everyone was happy. They had a good tent, a good breakfast, the sun was shining, and, so far at least, there was no sign of bears, wolverines, sharks, or killer bees.

  “What shall we do now?” asked Ava, as Ollie skulked back in the direction of his sleeping bag.

  “We could go for a hike,” suggested Ma Peachey.

  But Ava did not want to go for a hike. Reading Jean-Paul Sartre was exhausting enough, she said. Ollie did not want to go on a hike either, as he said it would interfere with his sleep. Pa Peachey did not want to go on a hike in case of ambush by mountain lions.

  McTavish and Betty thought a walk was an excellent idea.

  “Take this!” insisted Pa Peachey, handing his wife a large and very heavy backpack.

  “What’s in it?” asked Ma Peachey.

  “Only the bare essentials,” said Pa Peachey. “Flares, a club to beat away mountain lions, snakebite antivenom, emergency blankets, food for a week, two inflatable life jackets, one compass, one knife, one signal mirror, and a book entitled Teach Yourself Morse Code.”

  “Teach Yourself Morse Code? Will we have time to teach ourselves Morse code in an emergency?” Ma Peachey asked.

  “It depends on the emergency,” answered Pa Peachey. “If it is a very long, drawn-out emergency, such as being kept hostage in a cave by bears for many months, there will be time to learn Morse code — and probably French as well.”

  Ma Peachey thought about this for a moment. “I think,” she said, “that we will leave the emergency supplies here, as we are planning quite a simple walk. If anything goes wrong, and it looks as if we are likely to be held hostage by bears for many months, we will send McTavish back to notify you. He is, after all, a rescue dog.”

  “McTavish is a rescued dog. It is not at all the same as a rescue dog,” said Pa Peachey. “A rescued dog requires someone to rescue him. A rescue dog is a highly trained professional animal capable of reacting instantly in an emergency to save lives or sniff out people buried by an earthquake.”

  Betty considered McTavish. McTavish considered Betty. “I believe McTavish is both rescued and entirely capable of rescuing,” Betty said. “In fact, I feel quite certain that McTavish would be a first-rate companion in any emergency. I always feel safe when McTavish is by my side.”

  McTavish shot Pa Peachey a smug look.

  “Ho, ho,” said Pa Peachey. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps if the emergency involved sausages nobody wanted to eat, then McTavish would take care of them. Perhaps if the emergency involved needing a dog to lie on his bed and doze, then McTavish would be a hero.”

  Betty looked at her father. “Never underestimate McTavish. He is the smartest, most loyal, most intelligent dog I have ever met.”

  “Enough!” Ma Peachey said. “We will take a map and leave our emergency supplies behind, just this once.” And off she went with McTavish and Betty.

  For some time, McTavish, Betty, and Ma Peachey walked along the river. McTavish chased rabbits and butterflies. Betty and Ma Peachey talked about this and that. They stopped every once in a while to admire the beautiful river and the sunny meadow. When they felt hot, they went in for a swim. Eventually, when they had walked long enough in one direction, they turned around and walked back along the river to the campsite.

  “Thank goodness you made it home alive,” said Pa Peachey, who ran trembling to greet them. “You’ve been gone for nearly three hours. I was about to call the air rescue.”

  “We had a very pleasant walk, thank you, dear,” Ma Peachey replied. “A very pleasant and uneventful walk indeed.”

  Betty had collected a bunch of wildflowers, some of which she now braided together to make a crown for McTavish.

  McTavish looked very handsome in his crown.

  That night, they cooked two fish that Ava had caught in the river and ate them with potatoes roasted in foil. Then they toasted marshmallows on sticks over the embers.

  Everything tasted delicious.

  “Now, shall we sing songs around the campfire?” asked Betty.

  “That’s the silliest idea I ever heard,” said Ollie.

  “I don’t know any campfire songs,” said Ava.

  “Loud noises such as singing are likely to attract bears,” said Pa Peachey.

  Betty looked sad. But just then McTavish threw back his head and began to sing the song of the ancient campfire wolf.

  “Aaaaaoooooooowww!” sang McTavish. “AAAAAAOOOOOOOWOOWOOOO!”

  Ollie and Ava put their hands over their ears. Ma and Pa Peachey did the same. Even Betty found the noise a bit loud.

  In order to drown it out, Betty began to sing. She sang the first thing that came into her head, which was “Do Your Ears Hang Low?” Soon, the entire Peachey family was singing “Do Your Ears Hang Low?” as loudly as they could. By verse three, they hit their stride and were making nearly as much noise as McTavish. By verse four, McTavish had stopped howling. By verse six (which only Betty knew), McTavish was entirely silent.

  The Peacheys were on a roll. After singing “Do Your Ears Hang Low?” they sang a number of other songs, such as “O Little Town of Bethlehem” (even though it wasn’t Christmas), “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” “Great Tom Is Cast,” “On Top of Spaghetti,” and other campfire favorites. They sang until everyone was tired and ready for bed.

  McTavish followed them into the tent and waited until everyone else had dropped off to sleep before he put his head on his paws and shut his eyes. Within minutes, he too was fast asleep.

  On day three of camping it rained. And it rained and it rained and it rained.

  Nobody wanted to leave the tent, which was somewhat drier than the outdoors.

  Nobody wanted to try to make a fire in the rain.

  Breakfast was cold bread and butter.

  Lunch was peanut-butter-and-pickle sandwiches.

  By suppertime, every single Peachey was damp and cranky and hungry.

  The nearest town was six miles away. It was nice to be able to pitch a tent six miles from civilization. But now that the Peacheys needed a restaurant, it was inconvenient. Everyone was bickering and fed up with being damp, so they all piled into the car and drove six miles to the nearest town.

  In the nearest town, there was a small restaurant with a large sign on the door. The sign read NO DOGS ALLOWED.

  “But what about McTavish?” asked Betty. “He is just as hungry and damp as the rest of us!”

  “He will have to have his supper in the car,” said Ma Peachey. “There is nothing else to be done.”

  The five Peacheys, minus McTavish, trooped into the restaurant and ordered delicious hot meals. Betty also ordered two large burgers, no buns, cooked very rare, for McTavish. When they arrived, she took them out to the car.

  “I am very sorry, dear McTavish. The restaurant does not allow dogs, so you shall have to eat your dinner in the car.” But McTavish was too busy eating his burgers to worry about the restaurant’s pet policy.

  After the Peacheys had eaten, they all piled into the car and drove back to their miserable damp tent.

  “I want to go home,” said Ava.


  “So do I,” said Ollie.

  “I’m afraid I agree. Camping is far too dangerous,” said Pa Peachey. “With all this rain, I feel certain the river will overflow its banks and we shall be drowned in our sleep.”

  “Nonsense,” said Ma Peachey. “The weather report for tomorrow is for sunshine.”

  On that note, they all went to sleep, damp and bad-tempered and dreaming of their lovely, dry home.

  But the following morning, the sun was shining, the earth was dry, the birds were singing, and the sky was blue. It was a beautiful day.

  “Let’s go home,” said Ollie.

  “If we leave now, we’ll make it in time for lunch,” said Ava.

  “Of course, we need to drive slowly and carefully to avoid fatal accidents,” said Pa Peachey. “If we were to hit a moose on the highway, we’d all be killed.”

  “A moose?” asked Betty.

  Nobody bothered to reply.

  “I think today is the perfect day for our all-day hike with a picnic lunch,” Ma Peachey said. “I’ve made the picnic and packed it in my backpack. All we have to do is set off.”

  “Nope,” said Ollie.

  “No way,” said Ava.

  “Bad idea,” said Pa Peachey, shaking his head. “Rattlesnakes.”

  “Rattlesnakes?” asked Ma Peachey.

  “Where’s McTavish?” asked Betty.

  “He’s right here — well, he was right here a minute ago,” Ollie said.

  “McTavish!” called Ma Peachey. “Where are you?”

  There was no answer.

  “He’s probably been eaten by mountain lions,” said Pa Peachey. “When they get hungry, they creep down out of the mountains looking for prey. They stalk silently and kill with a single blow.”

  “McTavish!” called Betty. “Where are you, McTavish?”

  All was silent. They listened very hard, hoping to hear the noise of panting in the meadow, a rustling in a hedge, a splashing in the river, or the faraway bark of McTavish chasing a rabbit.

  Nothing.

  “McTAVISH!” called Pa Peachey. “McTAVISH, COME OUT FROM WHERE YOU ARE HIDING AT ONCE!”

  But there was no answer. And no McTavish.

  With a stricken look, Betty began running in the direction of the river. “He must have gone this way!” she shouted.

  Everyone ran after her. Pa Peachey and Ava shouted “Betty!” while Ollie and Ma Peachey shouted “McTavish!” The combined noise of five Peacheys shouting different names caused birds to lift off from trees and fish to dive deep down to the bottom of the river. If there had been any mountain lions within fifty miles, they would have been cowering in their dens.

  “McTAVISH!” shouted Betty.

  “McTAVISH!” shouted Ma Peachey.

  “BETTY!” shouted Ava.

  “SLOW DOWN!” shouted Pa Peachey, who was panting.

  The shouting Peachey clan came to a bridge over the river. Without hesitation, they crossed, shouting “McTavish!” and “Here, boy!” and “Where are you, you silly dog?” and occasionally “This is hopeless.”

  Just then, Ava stopped. “What’s that over there?” she asked, pointing.

  All the Peacheys looked in the direction that Ava pointed. About half a mile away, there appeared to be something McTavishshaped and McTavish-colored loping steadily toward the mountain.

  “McTavish?” Ollie squinted at the McTavish-shaped object.

  “McTavish?” asked Pa Peachey.

  “McTavish.” Betty sighed. She set off once more at a run.

  The family followed.

  McTavish stopped for a drink at a lovely sky-blue mountain lake. He waded in up to his chin and waited for the delicious cool water to soak through his coat. Standing in the lake made him feel cool all over. There were certain disadvantages to having a warm coat on a warm summer’s day. Particularly if one was moving at a brisk pace.

  McTavish had been moving at a brisk pace. It’s the only way, he thought. The Peachey family needed rescuing from bickering and laziness. And as a rescue dog, McTavish felt that it was his job to rescue them.

  It is worth noting that the average speed of a running dog is approximately nineteen miles per hour. The average speed of a running human is about half that. So if a dog wanted to lead a group of humans on a very long wild-goose chase up into a mountain, it would prove about half as taxing for the dog as for the people.

  McTavish tried to keep this in mind as he set off. He considered himself something of an unofficial Peachey tour guide, for it had become clear to him that they would never explore the beautiful mountain if he didn’t take action.

  In the meantime, it was very pleasant just floating around in the lake like a crocodile, his eyes above water, his tail slowly wafting from side to side as he paddled about.

  Meanwhile, the mountain echoed with cries of “McTavish!” and “Come back!”

  As the cries came closer to the beautiful lake, McTavish paddled slowly over to the far side, stepped out of the water, shook himself dry, and scampered a short distance away, where he climbed up on a large boulder with a clear view of everything below. There, he waited.

  After about ten minutes, he saw the Peachey family arrive at the lake. They looked tired and dusty and very fed up, and for a moment McTavish felt a small pang of guilt.

  Poor Peacheys, he thought, but then corrected himself sternly. They are not at all poor. They are merely lazy and argumentative. Except for Betty and Ma Peachey, that is.

  McTavish lay on the large boulder and watched his family. At first, they were too cranky to notice how beautiful the mountain lake was. They were too tired to notice the lovely flowers around the edge or the birds flitting along the surface. They paid no attention to the sparkling reflections the sun cast on the water.

  But then Ava squatted down and made a cup of her hands to drink from the cool, clear lake.

  Ollie waded in up to his waist and, when he thought no one was looking, slid happily under the water and began to swim, emerging spouting and spluttering like a seal.

  Just at that moment, McTavish made a small, distinct “woof.”

  “Look!” cried Betty. “It’s McTavish! He isn’t lost. He’s just resting on that rock.”

  “Bad dog, McTavish,” Pa Peachey said. “Come here this instant!”

  But McTavish did not move.

  “As long as we are here, I think we should swim in the beautiful lake,” said Ma Peachey. “McTavish will come back to us when he is ready.” She had already begun to wonder whether McTavish had his own reasons for luring them up the mountain. Now she felt quite sure of it.

  Pa Peachey stood with his arms crossed at the edge of the lake. “You are all very foolish,” he said. “There may be poisonous sea urchins and brain-eating parasites in this lake.”

  “There may be,” replied Ma Peachey, “and then again, there may not.” She waded into the lake, and as the cool water swirled around her dusty legs, she gave a little cry of glee and dunked under, splashing Ollie as she went.

  Soon, all the Peacheys (with the exception of Pa Peachey) were splashing and swimming and having the most wonderful time. McTavish watched them from his position on the boulder. The sun was shining, his coat was still cool and damp, and the boulder was a very nice place for a midafternoon nap.

  The Peacheys played together in the lake. They had races. They had contests about who could swim the longest distance under water. Ollie became a sea monster and tried to scare Ava. Ava floated on her back and contemplated the ontological enormity of the universe. Betty practiced her crawl.

  Eventually, they dried themselves off and plonked themselves down in the sunshine to get warm. Everyone agreed that it was the most wonderful feeling to swim in a cold mountain lake and dry off under the warm sun.

  Dozing and chatting, the Peachey family felt happy and relaxed.

  Until Betty looked up.

  McTavish was gone!

  “McTavish! McTavish! Where are you?” Betty called his name again a
nd again, but there was no sign of him.

  Betty knew what she had to do. She put her shoes back on and set off once more, up the mountain, with the rest of the Peachey family scrambling along behind her. They were in far better spirits after their refreshing swim in the mountain lake, filled with energy and optimism, and determined to find McTavish.

  “He must be somewhere nearby,” said Ava. “McTavish? McTavish!”

  “There he is,” cried Ollie, spying McTavish far ahead. “What on earth does he think he’s doing?”

  As the Peacheys came closer, they realized that McTavish was leaping and playing with a herd of wild mountain goats.

  “Look! There are three baby goats,” said Betty. “I have never seen wild goats before!

  “Nor have I,” Ma Peachey said in a hushed voice. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

  Pa Peachey shook his head. “McTavish is certainly playing with fire now. Those goats could strike him dead with one sweep of their deadly horns. They could maim him with a single kick of their lethal hooves.”

  “They seem to like him,” Ollie said. “Look! They’re playing chase! McTavish is it!”

  “How utterly extraordinary,” Ava said. “Two species communing in spontaneous recreational activity.”

  “A dog playing with goats!” Betty said, rather more simply.

  Just then, as suddenly as it had begun, the game ended. McTavish raced off over a small ridge and disappeared. The goats frolicked off in the other direction. For a moment, the Peacheys stood gaping.

  Pa Peachey snapped to attention. “Stop him! Stop him!” he shouted.

  “Come back, McTavish!” shouted Ollie and Ava.

  “This absurd dog chase must stop. It is ruining our day!” Pa Peachey was outraged.

  Ma Peachey and Betty exchanged glances. A strange and knowing look passed between them, suggesting they shared a secret.

  Perhaps they knew what McTavish was up to. Perhaps they had an idea that he wasn’t really running away. Perhaps they suspected that, as usual, McTavish had a plan.