Slim's Goodbye. John R. Erickson
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Название: Slim's Goodbye
Автор: John R. Erickson
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Учебная литература
Серия: Hank the Cowdog
isbn: 9781591887348
isbn:
Just because they’re dumb doesn’t mean they can’t get you into trouble.
Well, I had gone to school on cats. I had spent hours and days and years studying their tactics, analyzing their schemes and tricks, and preparing defenses against them. You’ve heard of chess? Well, we dogs are chess players. It requires patience and huge reserves of brain power, and when we go one-on-one against a cat in the Chess Game of Life, the poor cat doesn’t have a chance.
Heh heh. I was ready for the little sneak. Yes sir, I could read his thoughts like a book.
On the third or fourth trip around Sally May’s ankles, he turned his grinning face in my direction and said, “Hi, Hankie. Are you waiting for someone?”
I must admit that his whiny voice caught me slightly off guard. My ears leaped to Attack Position and a growl began to rumble in my throat. But don’t worry. I caught it just in the nickering of time and got everything shut down before any serious damage was done. I don’t think Sally May heard or saw any of it, is how quickly I responded to the crisis.
Hencely, instead of growling and so forth, I gave him a pleasant smile. “Why Pete, how nice to see you this morning. And yes, we’re waiting for you to come and share the scraps.”
“What a sweet doggie! I never knew you believed in sharing.”
“Oh yes, Pete. I enjoy sharing. I love sharing. Sharing is what this old life is all about.”
“But I know how you hate to . . . wait.” He grinned and wiggled his stupid . . . wiggled his eyebrows, I should say, which didn’t bother me at all. “Waiting has always been hard for you, hasn’t it Hankie?”
“Oh no, not really. I have my thoughts to keep me occupied.”
“That fills the first two seconds. Then what?”
I gave him a wise chuckle. “Pete, you’re losing your touch. I know what you’re trying to do, and it just won’t work. Sorry.”
At that moment, Sally May interrupted us. “All right, Alfred, now you can give out the scraps, and start with Pete.”
I beamed her a dark glare. What was the deal? Who’d gotten there first, who’d been waiting patiently for . . . but I didn’t care who got first scraps. I could be a gentleman about it—and hope that Pete choked on his scraps.
Alfred tweezed a juicy end of bacon between his thumb and . . . why had he picked the biggest, fattiest piece? That didn’t seem right or fair. Who’d been . . . but I didn’t care.
(See, not caring was an important part of my plan. Maybe you’d already picked that up.)
Anyway, Alfred held the bacon in front of Pete’s nose. He sniffed at it, stared at it with those big yellowish eyes of his, and finally raised a paw and snagged it with his claws. He laid it on the ground, sniffed it some more, licked it, and then looked up at Alfred.
And then he said—you won’t believe this—he said, “Is this the best piece, or do you have a better one?”
My eyes almost bugged out of my head when I heard that. There I was, dying of bacon hunger, roasting on the fires of starvation, waiting in line for him to . . . I caught myself just in time and noticed that Kitty was watching me.
I beamed up a smile. “Take your time, Pete. Shop around. We want you to have the very best. And if that piece doesn’t suit you, here, let me . . .”
“Hank!”
Oops. That was Sally May and, okay, maybe I’d jumped the gun just a tad. Timing is very important in these deals, and just to prove that I was being sincere, I gave Sally May a look that said, “Just trying to help. No kidding.”
It worked. I know it worked because she said, “That’s better. Nice dog.”
Heh heh. Little did she know what evil thoughts lurked . . . but then, she wasn’t supposed to know. I had her fooled, that was the important thing.
I sat down again and watched Kitty-Kitty play with his bacon. Can you believe that? He had this gorgeous, great-smelling piece of bacon fat right there in front of his stupid . . . right in front of his nose, and he played with it! He patted it. He speared it on his claws, held it up, stared at it, sniffed it, licked it, pitched it up, pushed it around, and oh yes, every so often he would cut his eyes in my direction to check my reaction.
Luckily, he couldn’t see my reaction. It was all happening inside, and there was quite a lot of it. My eyes were bulging, my heart was racing, my breaths were coming in rapid bursts, my mouth was watering, and above it all, I kept hearing this voice that said, “Open outer doors, flood tubes one and three, and plot a solution.”
Do you know what that means? It means that one part of my inner bean was urging me to attack, pounce on the little sneak, and give him the thrashing he so richly deserved. But I caught myself just in time and kept it all inside.
Or I tried. This was about to drive me nuts. I turned pleading eyes toward my pal, eyes that said, “Alfred, this is cruel and unfair. Do something.”
You know what? He did. He checked out his mom, saw that she was looking away, and in a flash he snatched the bacon away from Mister Hateful, flipped it into the air, and . . . heh heh . . . I took care of the rest.
Old Pete was so shocked, he didn’t know what to say. But then he started getting mad.
“You stole my bacon, Hankie.”
That was right. And what did he plan to do about it?
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