Drover's Secret Life. John R. Erickson

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СКАЧАТЬ the ocean . . . see the sea, you might say, and all at once everything fit together: C, see, and sea.

      It’s neat when things fit together like that, so my writer-name is going to be Drover C. Dog. One of these days maybe we’ll see it in lights.

      There’s that word again, see. It just keeps popping up. Maybe my new name will bring me good luck. I hope so. Bad luck is not so good and I don’t need any of that.

      Anyway, I’m kind of nervous. I want this to be a good story, not something boring. That’ll be a challenge. Hank tells me that I’m pretty boring and I have a feeling that he’s right.

      But just because you’re a boring little mutt doesn’t mean you have to write a boring story. I’ll try to make it exciting, but not right now. Just this little bit of writing has worn me out and I need a nap. See you in an hour.

      The Next Day

      That turned into a pretty long nap, about fifteen hours of wonderful doggie sleep. I dreamed about . . . I don’t remember, but it was a great dream. Now I’m fresh and wide awake and I have to start the story of my secret life.

      Here we go.

      Okay, I was born and that’s how it all began. Then I grew up and here I am and not much happened in between.

      Hank was right. My life has been so boring, even I can’t stand to hear about it. I’m a failure as a writer. I knew I would be. I’m so embarrassed! Good-bye.

      The Next Day

      Well, I’m back. I’m not going to quit. Just be­-cause you have nothing to say doesn’t mean you shouldn’t write about it. And besides, I have something to say. I thought of it last night in my sleep.

      Here we go again.

      Like I said, I was born and that’s how it all began. Mom said I was there but I don’t remember. All I know is what she told me. One day she was sitting in the yard when all at once she got an urge to go camping. She thought that was odd because she’d never cared for camping. She scouted around the yard until she found an empty box and some rags for bedding.

      She said camping was fun but it gave her indigestion. She thought it was indigestion, but when my brother Willie was born, she knew something was up.

      I was number nine, the last pup to hit the ground. Mom said that when she saw me, she screamed, “This isn’t funny! All I did was go camping and now I’m sharing a box with nine wet rats!”

      It took her a while to figure out that those “wet rats” were her own children and she’d just taken a full-time job as a mother. She thought we were the ugliest things she’d ever seen, but after she cried for a while, she licked us dry and served lunch.

      Like I said, there were nine of us and she only had eight plates at her table. Willie and I had to share a plate. He always went first and ate like a pig. I got what was left.

      Well, those are my earliest memories . . . or they would be if I could remember that far back but I can’t.

      Chapter Two: A Sad and Lonely Childhood

      Here’s a secret, if you promise not to tell: My childhood wasn’t so bad. In fact I had a good life. But who wants to read about some dog who’s had a happy childhood? Nobody.

      That’s why I called this chapter “A Sad and Lonely Childhood.” When you write about being happy, everybody falls asleep.

      But back to my brother, Willie. There were nine of us pups but only eight plates at Mom’s table, so Willie and I had to share, and he ate like a pig. He grew up to be big and strong, and I grew up to be a runt with a stub tail.

      We lived in a fenced yard in the town of Twitch­ell, Texas. That’s kind of a funny name, Twitch­ell. I was always the smallest dog in a crowd and scared of everything. You name it, I was scared of it: storms, loud noises, water, the dark. My brothers barked at cars. Not me. I hid in the bushes. Some of the dogs in the neighborhood chewed up newspapers, but I didn’t. I was always scared I’d choke on the rubber band.

      Some of my friends barked at the mailman when he walked his route every day, and they said it was gobs of fun. I never tried it. He carried a big leather bag on his shoulder, and I was scared that if I barked at him, he’d stuff me in that bag and carry me off to someplace awful.

      I didn’t know where he came from or where he went after he left the mail, and I didn’t want to find out. I always thought there was something a little fishy about those postal employees, so I stayed away from them.

      I wasn’t proud of being a little chicken. Dogs should be brave and do courageous things. That’s what everybody says. I dreamed of being brave and fighting monsters, but the older I grew, the chickener I got.

      You know, maybe my childhood wasn’t as happy as I thought, ’cause I spent a lot of time being scared and worrying about my tail. One day Mom and I had a talk.

      She said, “Well, son, your brothers and sisters have all grown up and moved away.”

      “Yeah, it gets lonesome sometimes.”

      “Not lonesome. Peaceful.”

      “I kind of miss ’em, but there’s more to eat now that they’re gone.”

      “Which brings up a touchy subject.”

      “I don’t miss Willie, the greedy pig.”

      “Hello?” She waved a paw in front of my eyes. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

      “Oh, hi Mom. Did you say something?”

      “Yes. I had just brought up a touchy subject. You.”

      “Gosh, I didn’t know I was a touchy subject.”

      “Drover, there comes a time in a dog’s life when he needs to move along.”

      “Yeah, but that’s after he grows up.”

      “That’s the point. In people-years, you’re twenty-five years old. And you’re still hanging around the yard. It’s starting to embarrass me. Does it embarrass you?”

      “Let me think. Nope.”

      “Well, it should. I see dogs in the neighborhood whispering.”

      “Yeah, I’ve wondered why they whisper all the time.”

      “They’re gossiping about YOU. They’re wondering if you’re ever going to grow up. And you know what?” She looked into my eyes. “So am I.”

      “Well, I’ve tried, Mom, and it just hasn’t worked. So I guess I’ll stick around for a while, if that’s okay.”

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