Lost in the Dark Unchanted Forest. John R. Erickson
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу Lost in the Dark Unchanted Forest - John R. Erickson страница 4
Название: Lost in the Dark Unchanted Forest
Автор: John R. Erickson
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Учебная литература
Серия: Hank the Cowdog
isbn: 9781591887119
isbn:
I tucked my tail between my legs and retreated a few steps, and then Drover, the little goof, said, “You better not lick the baby.”
I glared at him. “Drover, you needn’t repeat the obvious.”
“Yeah, but you licked her on the face with your tongue and that’s not nice.”
“Would it have been nicer if I’d licked her on the foot with my ear?”
He rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t know about that.”
“The answer is no, it wouldn’t have been nicer. It would have been impossible. Her foot was covered up and my ears don’t lick. I did what I could do with what I had, and no dog could have done more than that.”
“Yeah, but you could have done less.”
“Exactly my point. And now we come to the final summation of everything I’ve been saying.”
“Oh good. What is it?”
“Shut your little trap.”
“Oh, well that sure sums it up.”
Sally May carried her baby into the house and Loper followed with a bunch of suitcases and bags. They left Little Alfred, who was four years old, out in the yard. He was wearing a pair of striped overalls and had his hands stuck in the pockets.
Also, I noticed that his lower lip was sticking out. He didn’t look very happy, seemed to me, and I went over to cheer him up. He kicked a rock and looked at me.
“I don’t wike that baby. I want to take her back to the hospito.”
Well, I had a little talk with the boy and tried to explain things to him. Me and Alfred were special pals, see. I’d helped raise the boy and we’d always been able to talk things over.
“Son,” I said, “I know that your little sister ain’t very pretty right now, and she makes a lot of noise, but she’ll grow out of it and one of these days you’ll be proud to have her on the place.”
“No I won’t. You don’t care about me and you’re not my fwiend anymore and I don’t wike you either. And I’m going to hit you.”
I wagged my tail and tried to . . .
Would you believe it? The little snot slapped me right across the nose! If anybody else had done that, fellers, I would have removed his arm and half a leg. But you might recall that, many years before, I had taken the Cowdog Oath and sworn never to bite a child—even one that deserved it.
So I didn’t bite him. And he hit me again. And then he grabbed my tail and started dragging me around the yard. I had seen him do this to Pete the Barncat on several occasions and had, well, enjoyed it, you might say.
But that had been a different deal entirely. When he’d been dragging Pete around, that had been good wholesome entertainment because, after all, what else is a cat good for? But this time, with me on the short end of the stick, so to speak, it hurt.
Oh, it did hurt! My tail is a very sensitive and expressive communication device, and it was never intended to be pecked by chickens, stepped on by cowboys, or pulled by bratty little boys. I mean, Alfred was putting my Cowdog Oath to the test, and if I’d had just a smidgen less of iron discipline . . .
I squalled. I cried. I moaned. Heck, a guy has to do something to protect himself from these little monsters.
It was my good fortune that Sally May had good ears. She came flying out the back door, sized up the situation with one sweep of her eyes, and marched over to Little Alfred.
“Alfred, what on earth are you doing?”
He gave her a nasty little grin. “I’m pwaying wiff Hank.”
“You’re hurting Hank. Hank doesn’t like for you to pull his tail. Now let go, right now!”
The boy let go of my tail. “I don’t wike Hank. He’s a dummy.”
Oh yeah? Well, I could have come up with a few choice names for him, too.
Sally May took him by the shoulders and gave him a shake. “If you can’t be nice to Hank, you can’t play with him. You play quietly with your trucks while we put Molly down for a nap.”
Alfred glared up at her and stuck out his lip. “I don’t wike Mah-wee either!”
“Hush now. Mommy will be right out to play with you.”
She went back into the house. When she was out of hearing range, Alfred made a spitting sound with his lips. Then he made another grab for me, but this time he was half a step too slow. I went sprinting out of the yard and picked up Drover at the gate.
“Come on, Drover, let’s get out of here.”
I didn’t know what had come over the boy and I didn’t care to find out. I figgered it was time to let Little Alfred stew in his own tomatoes.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.