The Case of Twisted Kitty. John R. Erickson
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Название: The Case of Twisted Kitty
Автор: John R. Erickson
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Учебная литература
Серия: Hank the Cowdog
isbn: 9781591887430
isbn:
Have I mentioned that I’m Head of Ranch Security? I am, and very little happens on this ranch that I’m not aware of. If Sally May was thinking of driving into town on snack-poked roads . . . snow-packed roads, let us say, then I needed to check out the car and, you know, make sure everything was ready for the trip.
I gave the signal to turn our column in an easterly direction and we picked our way down the icy . . . PLOP. Oops, I slipped. We inched our way down the . . . PLOP . . . we made our way down the stupid hill which was a solid sheet of ice, don’t you see, and the footing was very . . . PLOP . . . treacherous. No dog on earth could have made it down that icy slope without . . . PLOP . . .
Phooey. I stopped trying to walk and skied the last ten feet to the bottom of the slope. This was no big deal. Have we discussed our Winter Ski Patrol? Maybe not. See, the Security Division has its own Winter Ski Patrol and during periods of snowy weather, we activate WSP. And, well, I’m the leader. Maybe you’re shocked that a ranch dog could have mastered all the skills required to glide down an icy slope, but let me remind you that . . . PLOP.
I made it to the bottom of the hill, is the point. There, I picked myself up off the . . . that is, I turned my skis to the side and negotiated a perfect sliding plop . . . a perfect slopping stop, that is, while Drover skidded down the hill with no more grace than a cow on a frozen pond.
Once I had reached level ground, I marched straight over to Sally May’s car and began making a thorough check of all the . . . HUH? A cat?
A smirking purring cat was sitting beside the yard gate. Would you care to guess who or whom it might have been? The main clue here is “smirking” and you’ve probably guessed Pete the Barncat. “Smirking” gives it away, doesn’t it? It’s one of the few things Pete does well. He never does any work on the place, but he seldom misses a chance to smirk.
And it drives me nuts.
I stopped in my tracks and beamed him a look we call “Nails and Broken Glass.” The purpose of the N&BG is to throw a scare into the cat and melt that smirk off his mouth. It didn’t work, so I lifted Tooth Shields and showed him two rows of sharp deadly fangs.
“Don’t smirk at me, Kitty. I’m not in the mood for it.”
“But Hankie, I wasn’t smirking. I was just . . . smiling. Do you know why?”
A rumble began echoing in the caverns of my throat. “I don’t know why, I don’t care why, and I don’t have time to waste talking to you.”
He batted his eyes. “I watched you coming down the hill, Hankie, and it was . . .” He snorted a laugh. “. . . very entertaining.”
Did I have time for this? No, but don’t forget the Security Division’s Shining Motto: “Do unto others but don’t take trash off the cats.” It had become obvious that Pete was leading us toward a Trash Situation.
Would I back down? Ignore him? Walk away? No sir. The time to deal with a trash-talking cat is when he starts tracking tosh. Talking trash. Give ’em an inch and they’ll take every nickel.
I swaggered over to him and stuck my nose in his face. “Do yourself a favor, Pete, and buzz off. Otherwise, I can’t be held responsible for what happens.”
He unfurled his long pink tongue and started licking himself on the left front paw. Right front paw. Who cares? He was licking a paw with his right front tongue, and I’m sure he knew how much it annoyed me.
“But Hankie, I’m just sitting here, minding my own business.”
“Ha! Minding your own business? You expect me to believe that? You were spying on us, Pete. You might as well come clean and admit it.”
“Well, I did watch you . . .” He snickered. “. . . stumble and bumble down the hill.”
“There, you see? You’ve proved my case. You were spying. If you had been minding your own business, you wouldn’t have noticed that I . . . whatever you called it.”
“Stumbled and bumbled down the hill.”
“That’s it. But for your information, Kitty, I didn’t stungle and bungle. I was skiing down the slope.”
“Oh really?”
“That’s correct. If you’re going to be a snoop, get the facts straight.”
He stopped licking his paw and stared at me with his big yellow eyes. “I didn’t notice any skis, Hankie. You came down the hill on your hiney.”
“Of course I did. If you knew anything about winter sports, you’d know that Hiney Skiing is one of the most difficult of all skiing techniques. There aren’t more than three or four dogs in the whole world who can do it right. Just ask Drover.” I whirled around to my assistant. “Drover, tell this poor ignorant cat about Hiney Skiing.”
Drover’s gaze drifted down from the sky. “Oh, hi. Were you talking to me?”
“Will you please pay attention? Tell Pete about Hiney Skiing.”
“Hiney Seeing? Well, if you want to see your hiney, you have to look behind you. I guess.”
I gave him a ferocious glare. “Why do I bother trying to involve you in my business?”
“Well, you said . . .”
“Never mind, Drover. I’m sorry I asked.” I whirled back to the cat. “Disregard everything Drover says.” I whirled back to Drover. “This will go into my report.”
“Gosh, did I do something wrong?”
“When we’re conducting an interrogation of the cat, I expect you to stay alert and pay attention. You were staring off into space.”
“No, I was looking at the clouds.”
“All right, you were looking at the clouds. The point is that when I asked you to confirm what I said about Hiney Skiing, you failed to do it.”
“Yeah, but I never heard of . . . Hiney Skiing.” His eyes popped open. “Oh, you mean the way you came down the hill, on your . . .”
“Shhh.”
Using one of the clever tricks we employ in the Security Business, I gave Drover three winks of my left eye. This alerted him that we were conducting secret business. Heh heh. Pretty shrewd, huh? You bet. The cat didn’t see it and never suspected a thing. Heh heh.
At last Drover grasped what was going on. “Oh yeah, Hiney Skiing.”
I chuckled and gave the runt a pat on the shoulder. “You just forgot, right? But now you remember that Hiney Skiing is actually a very difficult technique that we’ve spent years perfecting, right? Explain that to Pete. He doesn’t know anything about it.”
Drover turned to the cat, who was watching us with a puzzled smirk on his mouth. “Oh yeah, we ski on our tails all the time. It’s a very technical difficulty and we’ve spent many perfect years . . .” Drover turned to me. “What was the rest СКАЧАТЬ