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“Born to be Wild” by Coda
Today’s story is “Born to be Wild” by Coda, a fiction writer and biologist who is currently working on a novel about a socially-isolated teenager who is reborn as a coyote. You can find more short stories on his Medium page. For writing updates, art, and other ramblings, follow him on twitter @seawuffy
Read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.
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https://thevoice.dog/episode/born-to-be-wild-by-coda
Transcript
You’re listening to The Voice of Dog. I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,
Speaker:and Today’s story is
Speaker:“Born to be Wild”
Speaker:by Coda, a fiction writer and biologist
Speaker:who is currently working on a novel about a socially-isolated teenager
Speaker:who is reborn as a coyote.
Speaker:You can find more short stories on his Medium page.
Speaker:For writing updates,
Speaker:art, and other ramblings,
Speaker:follow him on twitter
Speaker:@seawuffy Please enjoy
Speaker:“Born to be Wild”
Speaker:by Coda At some point during the final semester of my senior year,
Speaker:my mom turned my dad into this horrible little dog.
Speaker:Or maybe she had him turned, or maybe he did it on his own somehow.
Speaker:All I know is that when I moved back home, there he was on the floor,
Speaker:snapping at me and drooling all over himself.
Speaker:Calling him a dog is honestly being generous.
Speaker:His fur was yellowish white, which gave the impression that it was always dirty,
Speaker:and his short, tattered ears were scabby and full of holes. He had
Speaker:a squished face, and his teeth stuck out at all angles.
Speaker:Worst of all, he stank,
Speaker:like low tide on the mudflats where we used to go clamming when I was a kid.
Speaker:A deep, rotten, under the earth kind of smell.
Speaker:Like death. I wasn’t sure if he was dying, or if the smell was more symbolic,
Speaker:that he was an agent of death, and so he smelled like it.
Speaker:He was repulsive. That’s all I’m trying to say.
Speaker:I’d returned home from college jobless and friendless.
Speaker:I’d been part of a tight-knit group,
Speaker:but about a month before graduation, two friends who were dating had decided to break up and make it everybody else’s problem.
Speaker:Over the next weeks,
Speaker:we’d all learned that we actually hated each other, and also that we had no other friends.
Speaker:Worse, I’d majored in drawing,
Speaker:which meant my only qualification for work after college was debt.
Speaker:Debt doesn’t look good on a resume,
Speaker:but I listed it anyway,
Speaker:just to try pulling on the old heartstrings.
Speaker:“Hearts don’t have strings,”
Speaker:my ex-friend Jason told me, in the conversation when we were deciding not to be friends.
Speaker:I’m also not convinced that HR have hearts.
Speaker:I think, at this point, most companies have simply written computer programs that
Speaker:eat job applications and shit out money or something, but maybe if I’d majored in computer science I’d know better.
Speaker:The creepiest thing about my dad/dog
Speaker:was that my mom just kept pretending everything was fine.
Speaker:She always referred to him as
Speaker:“your father.” “Your father looks hungry,
Speaker:can you feed him?”
Speaker:“Your father needs to go out.”
Speaker:“Your father is upset that you didn’t wash your dishes.”
Speaker:She also began to insist
Speaker:that he loved classical music.
Speaker:She would pull a wooden chair from the dinner table up to the windowsill and sit with him in her lap for hours,
Speaker:listening to Chopin or Listz or whoever, stroking his
Speaker:stringy fur and wiping the drool from his face on the back of her sleeve.
Speaker:She loved looking out that window,
Speaker:but she refused to ever go outside.
Speaker:When I complained about always having to do the grocery shopping, she said,
Speaker:“Well, you don’t have a job, do you?”
Speaker:She was right, but she didn’t have a job either,
Speaker:other than continuing to pretend
Speaker:that demonic creature was my father.
Speaker:I considered having my own psychotic break,
Speaker:pretending a cantaloupe was my newborn, or something,
Speaker:but I knew I didn’t really have it in me.
Speaker:I was too lazy. I couldn’t commit like she could.
Speaker:My father never liked classical music,
Speaker:only classic rock.
Speaker:Maybe she was trying to punish him.
Speaker:Or to culture him.
Speaker:I have to admit, it did seem to soothe the little guy.
Speaker:He had a habit of shrieking,
Speaker:but when he was listening to the music in her lap,
Speaker:he almost never shrieked.
Speaker:I hated that dog,
Speaker:and I resented my mother for loving it.
Speaker:What about me? Aren’t mothers supposed to love their children more than anything?
Speaker:I knew the dog wasn’t really my dad, or if it was,
Speaker:there was nothing left of him inside.
Speaker:The few times I’d been able to get him alone,
Speaker:I’d tried interrogating him,
Speaker:telling old stories, trying to sense if anything was clicking.
Speaker:But whenever he was without my mom,
Speaker:he would make a sort of continuous, high pitched whistling noise, like an angry snake,
Speaker:and he didn’t seem to hear anything I said.
Speaker:I knew there was only one way I could get my mom to realize how wrong she was.
Speaker:I had to kill that dog.
Speaker:Late at night, I researched what common household solutions could be mixed to poison one’s father,
Speaker:if he had been transformed into a dog.
Speaker:I couldn’t find anything about that,
Speaker:but I was reminded of the fact that dogs are very sensitive to caffeine and chocolate.
Speaker:My dad had loved mochas in real life.
Speaker:One would surely kill him now.
Speaker:The child inside me wondered, if, like a fairytale,
Speaker:it might even change him back.
Speaker:Either way, it was worth a shot.
Speaker:The next morning, I took my father on his usual walk.
Speaker:Of course, my mother didn’t come.
Speaker:There’s a coffee shop not far from our house that has a window where you can order without going inside.
Speaker:They give out little cups of whipped cream if you have a dog.
Speaker:This would be the
Speaker:perfect way to butter him up.
Speaker:As I ordered, I pushed him under the counter with my foot.
Speaker:I didn’t want anyone to actually see him, in case they thought he was too ugly to deserve a puppicino.
Speaker:“I need to see your dog,”
Speaker:the barista said.
Speaker:He was slight, with bluish skin
Speaker:and large, round glasses that made him look like a beetle.
Speaker:“Why?” I said, flatly.
Speaker:“It’s a new policy,” he said,
Speaker:“I’ll get fired if I don’t.”
Speaker:“That’s fucked up.”
Speaker:“No, I think it’s great,”
Speaker:he said, cocking his head at me with a strained expression.
Speaker:I was confused at first.
Speaker:He gestured towards his collar,
Speaker:and I noticed a tiny microphone.
Speaker:He was being recorded
Speaker:and his performance analyzed, no doubt.
Speaker:He seemed nice enough, so I played along.
Speaker:“Here is my dog,” I said, leading my father out from under the counter.
Speaker:The barista frowned nervously.
Speaker:“Are you sure that’s a dog?”
Speaker:“It’s definitely a dog.”
Speaker:“I just. I don’t want to get fired.”
Speaker:“I promise he’s a dog. He just
Speaker:looks like that.” The barista was hyperventilating
Speaker:and starting to sweat.
Speaker:I genuinely felt bad for him.
Speaker:“Hey look,” I said. “I have another dog at home. She’s crippled, so she can’t go outside. Does that help?
Speaker:Your boss would want you to help out an old lady dog, right?
Speaker:I can give you a five star review, talk about how great you were?”
Speaker:Finally, he relented.
Speaker:“Okay, if it’s for a crippled dog I think that’s okay.”
Speaker:He left, and a few minutes later
Speaker:returned with the mocha I’d ordered
Speaker:and a tiny cup of whipped cream on the side. “Don’t
Speaker:forget about the review,”
Speaker:he said, desperately,
Speaker:as I walked away.
Speaker:I assured him I wouldn’t, but one thing led to another, you know how it goes.
Speaker:I took my father to a nearby park.
Speaker:The grass was still wet with dew,
Speaker:the sun only just peeking above the roofs of the houses in our suburb.
Speaker:The park was small,
Speaker:just a round lawn with a play structure on one side,
Speaker:but the play structure was wrapped in caution tape, because it was too dangerous.
Speaker:Perched at the highest point of the structure
Speaker:was a huge crow, the size of an eagle.
Speaker:Maybe it was a raven, I’ve never been able to tell the difference. Whatever kind of bird it was, I felt uncomfortable,
Speaker:the way it stared at me.
Speaker:It kept clicking its beak, ominously.
Speaker:But it was the only park around, and I couldn’t kill my father at home, so I had to do it with the crow as a witness, whether I liked it or not.
Speaker:I crouched down in the grass.
Speaker:“Hey little buddy,”
Speaker:I said, “do you want a puppicino?”
Speaker:The dog stared blankly at my torso,
Speaker:hissing quietly. I was afraid to put my hands too close to him, so I placed the little cup of whipped cream on the ground,
Speaker:then dragged him toward it with the leash.
Speaker:His vision didn’t seem to be very good, but once he caught the smell,
Speaker:he pounced, practically inhaling it,
Speaker:his whole face ending up covered in whipped cream.
Speaker:The giant crow clicked its beak.
Speaker:Next, I placed the mocha on the ground.
Speaker:I removed the lid.
Speaker:It was topped with whipped cream.
Speaker:I felt like an idiot, but whatever.
Speaker:I led him to this larger cup,
Speaker:but he seemed disoriented.
Speaker:Maybe some of the cream had gotten in his eyes.
Speaker:He stumbled over the mocha, spilling it,
Speaker:and it seeped into the dirt.
Speaker:He growled and licked at the grass,
Speaker:but there was no way that enough remained to kill him.
Speaker:My only plan had failed.
Speaker:I’d be stuck with this horrible little dog for the rest of my life.
Speaker:I rocked back and forth, hugging my knees and trying not to cry,
Speaker:as the ugly creature chewed and swallowed chunks of mocha-infused dirt.
Speaker:I’d never been good at anything, I thought.
Speaker:I couldn’t even kill this damn dog.
Speaker:A dark shadow passed over me.
Speaker:The sound of wind over wings.
Speaker:The crow swooped down
Speaker:and picked my father up.
Speaker:It looked at me, I swear.
Speaker:Then it was circling up, leash dangling,
Speaker:higher and higher,
Speaker:until it was so high
Speaker:I couldn’t see it any more.
Speaker:The whole time my father didn’t make a sound,
Speaker:like he’d accepted his fate.
Speaker:Maybe he hated what he’d become, too, and wanted to die.
Speaker:Maybe I should have just been more straightforward.
Speaker:I sighed, watching them go.
Speaker:There was a lump in my throat, though I couldn’t say why.
Speaker:I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket.
Speaker:When I took it out, I saw my friend Jason’s name illuminated on the screen.
Speaker:Even though we’d been so close in college, we’d never talked on the phone before.
Speaker:We’d lived right next door to each other.
Speaker:It seemed strange to see his name like that.
Speaker:I answered. “Hey,” I said.
Speaker:“Hey.” I waited for him to go on.
Speaker:“So, I know we said some things.”
Speaker:“Yeah.” “I don’t really hate you.” I nodded,
Speaker:though he couldn’t see me.
Speaker:“I don’t really hate you either.”
Speaker:“So we’re still friends?”
Speaker:“Yeah, we’re still friends.”
Speaker:“Great. I need some help.”
Speaker:“Sure.” “It sounds crazy.
Speaker:But you have to promise to believe me.”
Speaker:“Why would I promise you that?
Speaker:You haven’t even told me what it is yet.”
Speaker:He sighed. “It has to do with my mom.
Speaker:Something happened.
Speaker:Something weird. I need some help taking care of it.”
Speaker:I smiled. “I think I know what you’re getting at.”
Speaker:“Sorry, I know it’s kind of a long drive. But I didn’t know who else to call.”
Speaker:“We’re friends,” I said,
Speaker:“friends help each other out, don’t they?”
Speaker:“Yeah,” he said, “sorry.
Speaker:Thank you.” “You don’t
Speaker:have to say sorry. And you’re welcome.
Speaker:I have a question though.”
Speaker:“Okay?” “Are there any crows on your side of town?”
Speaker:He paused. “I think we only have ravens.”
Speaker:I crushed the mocha cup under my foot,
Speaker:then picked it up and balanced it on top of an overflowing trash can,
Speaker:along with the little puppicino cup.
Speaker:“I think that should work.
Speaker:I can be there in like an hour.”
Speaker:“Great. What do the ravens have to do with anything, though?”
Speaker:I smiled. “Nothing.
Speaker:It’s a surprise.” “I hate surprises,”
Speaker:he whined. “Trust me, it’s a good one,”
Speaker:I said, and then hung up before he could argue.
Speaker:I surveyed the park,
Speaker:and found that the crow/raven had returned to his perch.
Speaker:My father was nowhere in sight.
Speaker:“Thank you, Mr. Crow.
Speaker:I’m pretty sure you're a crow.”
Speaker:He clicked his beak,
Speaker:then went about preening his shiny black feathers.
Speaker:I took a deep breath.
Speaker:The air was still fresh,
Speaker:but the sky had the kind of shimmer in it that meant it was going to be a hot day.
Speaker:I walked home at a leisurely pace
Speaker:and hopped in the driver’s seat of my parents’ old truck.
Speaker:The engine growled to life,
Speaker:the radio blaring
Speaker:Born to be Wild. The crow sat in the passenger seat.
Speaker:“You remember how to drive stick?
Speaker:It’s been a while since I taught you,”
Speaker:he said. “Come on, of course I remember.
Speaker:No one could stall a car listening to Steppenwolf.”
Speaker:And I was right. I shifted smoothly through the gears.
Speaker:We cranked the windows down.
Speaker:The early summer air smelled like diesel and jasmine.
Speaker:“I know all the words to this song,”
Speaker:he said. “I know you do.”
Speaker:I grinned. We sang,
Speaker:cawed, croaked, and howled,
Speaker:all the way across the city.
Speaker:This was “Story Title”
Speaker:by Your Name, read for you by
