The Case of the Missing Cat (5 page)

Chapter Eight: The Healing Waters of Emerald Pond

O
nce outside the chicken house, we made some fast tracks and got the heck away from there.

It had suddenly occurred to me that if Sally May saw me coming out of the chicken house, or even standing close to it, she might leap to some false conclusions.

I mean, on more than one occasion she had accused me of committing unthinkable crimes, against her chickens—such as eating them and/or their eggs.

Crazy, huh? It's common knowledge that cowdogs, and especially Heads of Ranch Security, NEVER eat chickens or suck eggs. I mean, we protect the stupid birds and their equally stupid eggs, so it would make no sense at all for us to turn right around and eat them—although I must admit that . . . hmm.

What I mean is that all charges against me had been false and outrageous and unfair and unfoundered, but in the Security Business we must guard ourselves against even the slightest appearance of naughty behavior.

And fellers, two dogs backing out of the chicken house in the middle of a normal work day might have been . . . I think you get the point. And so did I, which explains why I got away from there just as fast as I could travel.

Well, we had dodged that particular bullet and made our way down to Emerald Pond—my own private name, by the way, for one of my very favorite spots on the ranch, the lovely green pool of water formed by the overflow of the septic tank.

That investigation of the chicken house had pretty muchly worn me out and I still had a slight headache from my encounter with the corral fence and I was ready to dive into the warm embrace, so to speak, of Emerald Pond, whose waters are known to have curative and healing powers.

I can also reveal that those same green waters can provide a dog with a very impressive “calling card,” you might say—a deep manly aroma that has been known to steal the hearts of the ladies and just by George sweep them off their feet.

Pretty impressive, huh? And it's MY pond.

Well, I sprang right into the middle of Emerald Pond, filled my nostrils with its sweet perfume, rolled around, kicked my legs in the air, climbed out, and gave myself a good shake.

Say, that little dip had left me feeling like a million bucks!

Drover had watched all this from dry land.

“Son, one of these days you're going to realize what you've been missing.”

“Yeah, I know. But I don't like water.”

“This isn't just water. It's tonic, a magic elixir that's full of vitamins and minerals. I'd almost be willing to bet that if you stuck your stub tail into these waters, it would grow out to normal size.”

“No fooling?”

“Yup. It's powerful stuff.”

“But I kind of like my tail the way it is.”

“Well, to each his own, Drover. If you're happy with a chopped-off, deformed stub, I guess that's all that matters.”

“I never thought of it as deformed.”

“Then forget I said anything about it.”

“Okay.”

“Your happiness is the most important thing.”

“Thanks, Hank.”

“And the fact that everyone else laughs at your ridiculous tail is irrevelent. Irreverent. Irreffluent.”

“Irrelevant?”

“I'll speak for myself, Drover, but thanks anyway. The word is IRREFFLUENT.”

“Okay. But do you really think my tail's de­formed?”

I sat down and scratched a troublesome spot just behind my left ear. “Are you asking for an honest answer or one that sugarcoats the truth?”

“Whichever one makes my tail look better.”

“All right, you have a magnificent stub of a tail.”

“You're just saying that so I won't think it's de­formed!”

“That's what you wanted, wasn't it?”

“No,” he began to sniffle and cry, “I want a tail that the other dogs won't laugh at! All my life I've wanted a tail that wasn't handicapped! How can I ever find happiness with a deformed tail?”

“That's a tough question, son.”

“I'm so miserable and unhappy! I hate my tail! Why can't I have a normal tail like a normal dog? All I ever wanted to be was normal.”

“Drover, your tail can be fixed.”

“You really think so? You mean there's hope?”

“Son, the cure for your condition has been right here all along. You just haven't used it.”

“You mean . . .”

“Exactly. You must sit in Emerald Pond for two hours.”

“That's all?”

“Sit with your tail under the healing waters for two hours and repeat these words over and over.”

“What words?”

“I haven't said them yet.”

“Oh.”

“‘Lizards, spiders, warts and scales,

Give this dog a normal tail.'”

A smile bloomed on his face. “I think I can do it, Hank, and boy howdy, I'm sure excited!”

“I'm happy for you, Drover. If you follow those directions to the letter, I can almost guarantee that you'll come out with a normal tail.”

His smile slipped. “What's an ‘almost guarantee'?”

“I, uh . . . it's just one peg below a Gold Plated Guarantee.”

“I'd rather have the Gold Plated, if it's okay.”

“We're out of those, Drover.”

“Oh rats.”

I stood up and stretched. “So get your little fanny into the water and begin your therapy. I'll be back in a couple of hours to check things out.”

“Where you going?”

I couldn't help smirking. “If you recall, Drover, I have a little score to settle with the cat. While your tail is growing, Pete's tail just might get shortened by a few inches,” I gave him a wink, “if you know what I mean.”

“Something's wrong with your eye.”

“What?”

“I said, THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR EYE!”

“Don't yell at me, there's nothing wrong with my ears!”

“I know. It's your eye.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your eye was twitching. I saw it myself.”

I positioned my nose right in front of his face. “I was winking, you brick, to show that I had let you in on a little secret.”

“Oh. Well, I'll be derned. I thought . . .”

“Yes, I heard what you thought, and it's obvious that sharing my secret with you was a waste of time. I'm sorry I bothered.”

“That's okay, you couldn't help it.”

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome, and I hope it gets better.”

“What?”

“Your eye.”

“Drover?”

“What?”

“HUSH.”

I left the runt sitting in Emerald Pond and went looking for the cat. My first stop was the gas tanks, to see if Pete was still occupying my gunnysack bed. Much to my disappointment, he had left.

So I went padding up to the yard gate to check out his usual loafing spots, the main one being right beside the back door where he often lolled around in the shade, waiting for someone to come outside. Any time the door opened, you see, he would try to weasel his way into the house.

That's a cat for you, always trying to weasel his way into something or other.

I didn't see him on the back step and was about to check out the machine shed when I heard a voice that caused my bodily parts to freeze in place and the hair to rise on my back.

It was the cat. “Mmmm, hello, Hankie. I bet you wish you were still Head of Ranch Security.”

Ho ho! Kitty-Kitty had just set himself up for a rude surprise.

Chapter Nine: Pete's Mindless Senseless Vandalism of a Sheet

T
hat voice does something to me, causes my hair to rise and my ears to jump to the Full Alert position.

A growl begins to rumble in my throat, my eyes narrow to slits and my lips begin to twitch and my teeth expose themselves in all their frightening glory.

I turned toward the sound of the voice and saw him, sitting beneath the clothesline and looking up at a clean sheet that was flapping in the wind. Now and then he would lift his front paw and bat the sheet.

“Did you just say something, cat?”

“Mmm-hmmm. I said, I'll bet you wish you were still Head of Ranch Security.”

“Is that what you bet? Well, this is turning out to be a bad day for your bets, Kitty. I don't wish I was still Head of Ranch Security, because I AM Head of Ranch Security.”

He turned his head around and smirked at me. “No you're not. You lost your job in a gambling accident.”

“Ha, ha, ha. Ho, ho, ho. Hee, hee, hee. You make me laugh, Pete. And lest you get the wrong impression, let me emphasize that I'm laughing at YOU.”

“Mmm, isn't that interesting.” He slapped at the sheet. “I'm the new Head of Ranch Security and you don't have a job, but you're laughing at me? That's very interesting, Hankie.”

I marched down the fence. “I can see that you still haven't figgered it out, cat. I have cancelled that bet.”

“You can't cancel what's already happened, Hankie. Even you should know that.”

“I have cancelled the bet. It's off, it's over, it's suspended, it's null and void. It's history and it never happened.”

“Mmmm! It's history and it never happened. What an interesting idea.”

“That's correct, Kitty. On this ranch, history is whatever I say it is.”

“But you're forgetting one small detail, Hankie.” He hit the switchblade in his paw and his claws suddenly appeared. He admired them while he spoke. “Your bet was backed up by your Solemn Cowdog Oath. You can't take that back.”

“Oh yeah? I'm afraid you overlooked one small detail, kitty. The Solemn Cowdog Oath doesn't apply to cheating situations or crooked deals. You see, I analyzed our wager and found that we were both betting on the same thing: my job.”

He fluttered his eyelids. “That seems fair.”

“That seems
crooked,
and you know it. You almost pulled it off, Pete, but I'm afraid you've been caught in the web of your own spider.”

“You're so clever, Hankie.” He yawned and came slinking over to the fence. He sat down, stared at me with his big cat eyes, and began twitching the end of his tail. “If you'll lean a little closer to the fence, I'll tell you a secret.”

I caught myself just in time and pulled my face away. “Lean closer to the fence, so that you can slap me across the nose with your claws? As you've done before on several occasions? Sorry, Pete, your sneaky tricks are getting threadbare. That one isn't going to fly.”

He glared at me. Then he drew himself up, threw an arch in his back, and hissed at me. Before I knew it, a ferocious growl was thundering in my throat and I was seized by a powerful instinct to destroy the fence between us.

But iron discipline saved me just in time. I sat down and laughed at him.

“I guess you thought you could hiss and throw me into a frenzy of irrational behavior, right? Then I'd tear down the fence between us and chase you around the yard, right? And then Sally May would come running to save you, and I'd get pounded with the broom, right?”

He glared daggers at me through the fence.

“Sorry, Pete. I've made a few mistakes in the past, but it happens that I learn from my mistakes. Your cheap tricks just aren't working anymore. Sorry.”

Oh, you should have seen his icy glare when I told him that! It killed him, just by George ruined his day.

By this time his ears were pinned down on his head and the pupils of his eyes had grown to the size of quarters. “You're making me angry, Hankie, and when I get angry it makes me want to use my claws and tear something up.”

“Oh yeah? Well, if it gets too overwhelming for you, Kitty, I'll be glad to meet you down along the creek, but if you think I'm going to get suckered into a fight on Sally May's doorstep, you're very muchly mistaken.”

“I'm getting angrier and angrier.”

“And I'm loving every second of it, Pete. Keep it up. Here, try this on for size.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

“I can't control myself much longer, Hankie.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, see how you like this.” I crossed my eyes AND stuck out my tongue, all at the same time, see, and oh my, that really ripped him.

He was yowling now, the way cats do when they're so mad they could spit, only they can't spit so they yowl. “Just for that, I'm going to tear up a sheet!”

“Oh really? Tear up one of Sally May's clean sheets? You'd better not.”

“I will, you'll see!”

And with that, the stupid cat dashed back to the clothesline and climbed the sheet. I could hear his claws ripping into the cloth.

“UMMMMMMMMMMMMM!! You're ripping the sheet!”

“I don't even care, it's all your fault, you've made me so angry I just can't control myself!”

Well, as you might imagine, I was almost beside myself with joy and happiness. At last I had pushed Pete over the edge of the brink. Now all I had to do was sound the alarm, alert Sally May to what her precious kitty was doing, and then sit back to watch the fur fly.

I barked the alarm. “Attention please! Hank calling Sally May, come in Sally May. Red Alert at the clothesline, repeat Red Alert at the clothesline! We have spotted a deranged cat who is destroying one of your clean sheets. Report to the clothesline at once, and bring broom.”

That would do it.

I sat back and prepared to enjoy the show. In a matter of seconds, Sally May would come flying out that door—her eyes filled with sheer meanness and . . .

I kept waiting. I frowned and began pacing. My eyes were riveted on the screen door. The seconds passed. No sign of Sally May.

That was odd.

And in the meantime, Kitty continued to climb the sheet and perform mindless acts of vandalism. Mindless vandalism has always bothered me. I mean, there's no reason for it. It's just . . .

Still no sign of Sally May. Could she have gone to town? No, but she might have been taking a bath, in which case . . .

Senseless destruction of ranch property—that's what I was forced to watch, and before I knew it, a ferocious growl was thundering in my throat and I was seized by a powerful instinct to destroy the fence between us.

But, of course, this was Sally May's deal, not . . .

My hair began to rise and my ears jumped to the Full Alert position. My eyes narrowed to slits and my lips began to twitch and my teeth exposed themselves in all their frightening glory.

I heard a loud R-I-P! This was intolerable, unbearable. How much longer could I sit there, an idle speculator to mindless vandalism and the senseless destruction of ranch property? At what point did an idle speculator become a part of the crime?

I mean, there's such a thing as moral outrage. Some dogs have it and some dogs don't, and those of us who . . .

All at once I was finding it very hard to . . . that cat was not only defacing Sally May's sheet, but in a deeper sense he was committing a senseless act of senseless vandalism against MY RANCH!

Well, you know me. I take that stuff pretty serious. Nobody messes with my . . .

Okay, that was it.

Red Alert, full throttle, all systems go, open fire, launch all torpedoes, charge, bonzai! THIS WAS WAR!!

I leaped over the fence like a buck deer, crossed the yard with three huge leaps, and flew right into the middle of that sheet, wrapped up old Pete in a nice little package, and was well on my way to . . . screen door?

Ah ha, Sally May had finally answered the call and was coming to the rescue. And yes, her eyes were flaming and smoke was curling out of her nostrils and she was definitely armed with the broom, and I could see that she was ready to do some serious damage to her precious, perfect, sniveling little weasel of a cat.

I sat up straight, held my head at a proud angle, and wagged my tail as if to say, “Welcome to the war, Sally May. As you can see, I have just arrested this . . .

HUH?

He'd been right there in the sheet.

Just moments before.

Wrapped up in a nice little package from which he couldn't possibly . . .

Sally May was standing over me. She looked very angry, very angry indeed. I began to develop a funny feeling about this deal.

I lifted my eyes and tried to smile and, uh, thumped my tail on the, uh, ground.

“Uh, Sally May,” I tried to say, “I think I can explain everything.”

“You nasty dog, you've ruined my sheet!”

“Me? No, it was the . . .” WHAP! “. . . cat, don't you see, I caught Pete . . .” WHAP! “. . . honest, no kidding, I'm being very serious about . . .” WHAP!

“You get out of my yard and don't you ever come back!”

I never argue with a loaded broom. I ran in a tight circle for a moment, dodging that deadly killer broom, and then broke away and went zooming toward the machine shed . . .

. . . forgetting for the moment that the fence was still there, which caused a slight pile-up beside the foot scraper and actually hurt worse than the broom itself, but eventually we . . .

I ran for my life and hid in the darkest corner of the machine shed. It was there that I straightened my neck and licked my wounds.

And began plotting my final revenge against the cat.