Kolchak And The Boy

 “Hey, Kolchak!” The Boy calls. He makes that clicking sound they always make. I come running.

I’ve talked with others of my kind. They say that we are all the same. When one of them makes the clicking sound or whistles, our tails wag and we come running. Five years ago, they released me from my cage at the shelter. The Boy made the clicking noise and yelled, “Come here, puppy!” I didn’t mean to wag my tail, it wagged on its own. I Didn’t intend to follow his command, but I found myself scurrying across the floor and jumping into The Boy’s open arms.

Honestly, I’m glad that I did that. It has been a good life on the farm with My People-The Boy and his parents, The Man and The Lady. I have a warm, soft bed to sleep in on the screened in back porch and all three of them seem to love me.

It was The Boy who named me Kolchak. He explained Why he did that one hot summer day when we were sitting on the front porch. The Boy said before I came, he would watch a TV show about a man named Kolchak on the floor model TV in the basement. The show gave him nightmares, but he loved to watch it. One evening, The Lady came down and watched it with him. She said it was too weird and that she wouldn’t allow a little boy to watch such garbage! The Boy said that he was angry and really missed watching the show. When he and his folks rescued me, he called me Kolchak to make up for not being able to watch his favorite show.

The Boy is headed to the cornfield. He is carrying his rifle, the one he got as a birthday gift for his twelfth birthday a few months ago. As I follow him with my tail wagging, I know what he’s going to do. It’s late September and, like they do almost every year around harvest time, the crows are getting in the corn. The Man is getting tired of it.

“Son,” I heard him say last night, “I’ll give you two bucks for every crow that you kill out of that cornfield! Almost time to harvest time and hear come the stinking blackbirds!”

I run along behind the boy. He’s almost six feet tall now and it’s getting harder and harder for me to keep up with his long legs!

“Hey, wait up!” I bark at him. “I can’t keep up with you, my friend.”

I really don’t know why my kind even bothers with barking at them. Most dogs can understand every word Our People say, but they can’t understand a word of our language!

The Boy finally slows down a bit. He looks around, smiles, and sings his rifle up to his shoulder. BLAM! He fires the gun into the air and I watch a crow fall to the ground!

“You got one!” I bark. “Good work!”He unzips the front of his camouflage sweatshirt that The Lady insisted he wear, but that he claimed it was too hot for and pulls out a canvas bag. He makes his way through the corn, careful not to trample any of it. We finally find the dead bird. The Boy loosens the bag’s drawstring and puts the crow inside.

“I don’t see why you can’t be a good dog and fetch these things for me!” he grumbles.

“Humans just don’t get it!” I bark, knowing that I’m wasting breath. “I’m an Irish setter! I am not a Golden Retriever or a Labrador Retriever! All dogs are not just alike!”

Even if he understood my language, it would be a waste of time. I love My People, but humans love their prejudices and stereotypes too much to ever give them up.

That's when I feel The Tingle. Talking to others of my kind, I have learned that it always begins on the back of the neck and slowly works its way back to the tail. The close that the danger gets, the more that it spreads. By the time I am face to face with a threat, I’ll be tingling from head to toe!

“Hey!” I bark at The Boy. “Don’t you feel that?”

Then, I remember: Humans don’t have The Tingle!

A minute later, he sees what I do and The Tingle isn’t necessary.

Above the hill that stands behind the cornfield, there are red lights. They are rotating in a circle as the descend from the sky. The entire sky above the hill glows with that same redness.

I take off toward the hill, barking. The Boy runs behind me.

“Hey, Kolchak!” he yells, “Wait up, will ya?”

I don’t listen. I must go ahead of him and assess the threat.

I bark as I run through the field, come out on the other side and run up the path that leads to the top of the hill. I’m barking, but it’s a different bark. This bark starts in the pit of my stomach and comes out low and threatening. It’s my warning bark and I’ve only used it once before.

The Lady keeps several ewe lambs in a meadow near the house. One day, a few springs ago, several buzzards had been circling over the field. I had ran in a circle around the fence until the buzzards flew away. I was hoping the same thing would happen this time.

“Whoever you are,” I barked. “Go away! I am dangerous! I will tear you apart with my teeth! My master carries a firearm and he’s a good shot! You are in grave danger!”

The strangest thing happens. I hear a response, but not with my ears. It’s like one of my own thoughts. Somebody up there is communicating with me, using his mind to speak to my mind. And he’s speaking my language! Who or what am I dealing with?

“Listen, you smelly, hairy creature! There are only two of you! You are outnumbered! Surrender to us! We have come to study your planet. Nobody has to die here!”

I keep running and barking out my threats! I’m tingling all over by this time! The Boy is clambering up the path behind me. I get to the end of the path and run, barking like mad, into the meadow at the top of the hill. I see a strange sight…

The craft covers over half of the meadow. It is shaped like two pie pans that are stacked with the centers of the pans facing each other. Once, I watched a TV show with My People about flying saucers and this thing appears to be a flying saucer!

The Boy suddenly comes up behind me. He’s breathing hard and, when I turn and look at him, he looks pale and his eyes are wide. He’s scared, really scared!

“What in the world is that crazy thing?” The Boy blurts out.

“You stay away from my master and me!” I bark.

“If you want to survive, follow my commands,” the alien voice says inside my head. Now, it is speaking in the Boy’s language and I’m sure that he can hear it in his mind, too. “Lay down your weapon and approach our ship with your hands up!”

This is the last thing that you want to say to any of My People!

“You’ll take my gun outta my cold, dead hands!” The Boy screams.

A door on the side of the craft opens. Four creatures walk out. They all look the same. They are tall and slender. They have large hands and feet, even larger than The Man’s. Their heads are enormous, about twice the size of The Boy’s head. They are only wearing shorts. The same type of shorts that the wrestlers that The Man and The Boy watch on TV wear. They walk slowly toward us. The one in the lead is carrying a long pole in his left hand.

“Git behind me, Kolchak!” The Boy says.

My first instinct is to protect him, but I am so accustomed to obeying him, so I follow his command instead of doing what comes naturally. He brings the rifle to his shoulder.

“You freaks better not come any closer!” He yells.

“Stay back!” I say in my warning bark. “I’ll use my teeth to rip your throats out!”

The leader points his pole at us. The end of the pole gives off a green glow.

THE Boy fires! He hits the leader in the center of his chest! The leader drops his pole to the ground. His chest begins to radiate with a red glow. Sparks fly out of the sides of his massive head! The other three creatures fall backwards! Right before our eyes, the leader evaporates!

“What have you creatures done?” the voice in my mind asks. This time, it speaks in my language.

“We kicked your tails!” I bark.

Then, I hear it. It’s a high pitched squeal. And it hurts so bad that I start yelping, the noise and dog makes when in pain. I try never to make that noise. It seems to make My People worry. I can’t stop myself this time.The pain is so intense that I collapse to the ground. The Boy fires his gun into the air. The three surviving aliens re-enter their craft and the door closes behind them.

“Whatever you’re doin’ to my dog, you’d better quit right now!

The squeal stops and the lights go out on the ship. It’s getting dark, but I can see the ship slowly float into the air and, eventually, it disappears out of sight.

The Boy lifts me up with his left arm and carries me like a football, down the hill, with his rifle over his right arm. It isn’t the most comfortable ride that I’ve ever had, but I’m not up to walking.

“Smelly creature, you haven’t heard the last of us!” The alien voice is inside my mind again.

My bark is little more than a whimper.

“I may smell bad,” I say, “but you things are ugly!”

“We’re going home, Kolchak,” The Boy murmurs. “I ain’t saying a word to this to my folks. They’d never beleve it. Too bad you can’t talk, old boy!”

Too bad you can’t understand, young boy!