The Quest fort the Great White Quail. John R. Erickson
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу The Quest fort the Great White Quail - John R. Erickson страница 3
Название: The Quest fort the Great White Quail
Автор: John R. Erickson
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Учебная литература
Серия: Hank the Cowdog
isbn: 9781591887522
isbn:
Great idea, and I was a little surprised that I hadn’t thought of it sooner. I turned away from the house and trotted around to the north side of the machine shed. Once there, out of the view of prying eyes, I dropped the thing on the ground and heaved a big sigh of relief. At last, we were rid of it! Now I could get back to the business of . . .
I glanced around in a full circle. I didn’t think that Drover had followed me, but you never know. His compulsion was very compulsive. I saw nothing and nobody, so I . . . uh . . . began staring at the toy truck. Why? Well, it’s hard to explain to someone who’s never been a dog, who’s never experienced the . . .
How can I say this? Normal dogs sometimes find themselves attracted to certain substances, don’t you see, and notice that I said normal dogs. We’re not talking about your perfect little do-right poodles and yip-yips that stay inside a house, wear perfume and ribbons, and never have a wayward thought.
We’re talking about real dogs, normal, healthy, red-blooded American dogs that go to work every day, eat Co-op dog food out of a hubcap, and keep the country running. See, when a guy works eighteen hours a day, every once in a while he yearns for some entertainment. We’re not talking about anything lavish or expensive, just simple pleasures that satisfy a tiny need, such as . . .
I found myself staring at the toy truck. It was a pretty shade of red and made of soft plastic, not the kind that breaks into splinters and hurts your teeth and gums. I could almost understand why Drover had been attracted to it. I mean, chewing soft plastic isn’t the same as chewing a bone, but in times of bone shortages . . .
Did I mention that we were in the midst of a terrible Bone Famine? Maybe not, but we were. It was one of the longest, most brutal Bone Famines in recent memory. The supply of bones had just dried up, and dogs all over Texas had been forced to chew . . . well, other things. You know, sticks, rocks, newspapers, old shoes, and other things they wouldn’t ordinarily chew.
I, uh, tossed glances over both shoulders and my eyes returned to the truck. I hadn’t chewed a good bone in weeks . . . months . . . years, and all at once . . .
Okay, we need to talk. We’re friends, right? We can talk about things that aren’t necessarily pleasant, things we’re not proud of? I’m just going to blurt it out.
I started chewing the truck, and I LOVED IT!
I had never dreamed that chewing plastic could be such an exciting experience, but it was, and all at once Drover didn’t seem nearly as crazy as I’d thought.
I chewed it to smithereens and wanted more . . . more plastic! Yes, plastic. Who needs bones in a world full of nice chewy plastic? Bones can wear down your teeth and cause bone particles to collect in your estomagus, but plastic . . . it doesn’t splinterize and poke your gums. Furthermore, since you don’t swallow it, all the various pieces remain outside the bodily so-forth.
See, plastic was invented for DOGS. Maybe you didn’t know that. Maybe I didn’t know it either, but after conducting this first experiment with a plastic substance, it became very clear to me that someone out there had invented plastic so that dogs could chew it.
Why not? For thousands of years, dogs have been man’s best friend. We’ve liked our people when they were unlikable, loved them when they were unlovable, forgiven them when they were unforgivable. We’ve licked their ears when we really wanted ice cream, kept them warm on cold winter nights, laughed at their stale jokes, and listened to their corny songs about Old Paint and Dunny.
Don’t we deserve something special? Yes, of course we do, and that special something is PLASTIC.
Okay, there’s one little problem with plastic. Once chewed and re-chewed, it leaves a mess, but what’s a little mess in the broader context of history? This world is a big place. Put the world on one side and a small deposit of shredded plastic on the other, and you can see right away that shredded plastic is no big deal. It’s the kind of thing our people ought to ignore, right?
I’m glad you understand, because . . . well, once I had chewed up the truck, I found myself . . . uh . . . wishing to find other objects made of plastic, shall we say.
I headed toward the house. As I was passing the front of the machine shed, I happened to notice the head of a small whitish dog peering out the crack between the two sliding doors. When I appeared on the scenery, the head vanished inside.
I stopped and stuck my head inside the door. “Drover? Come out. I know you’re in there.”
A moment later, he stepped out of the barn, and right away I picked up an important clue. He had twisted his body into the shape of a horseshoe and was flashing a goony smile. Maybe you’ve never seen such odd behavior in a dog, but I have. Drover does it fairly often, and it’s a sign that he’s feeling guilty about something.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Doing what?”
“You’re moving around like . . . I don’t know what. Like a donut that’s had a bite taken out of it. Normal dogs walk in a straight line, Drover. You’re walking like a crab.”
“I’ll be derned. I’ve never even seen a crab.”
“Nevertheless, you’re walking like a beached crab.”
“I tried to eat a crawdad one time, but it bit me on the nose.”
“Answer my question.”
“I forgot. What did you ask?”
I stuck my nose into his face. “Why are you walking in that ridiculous manner? To tell you the truth, Drover, it embarrasses me to see you doing that.”
His grin faded. “Well, I guess I’m feeling . . .”
“Yes? Yes? Finish your sentence. I’m a busy dog.”
“I guess I’m feeling . . . guilty.”
I gave him a triumphant smile. “Aha! I knew it. Drover, you should never try to conceal anything from me. I can read your thoughts like a duck out of water.” I began pacing in front of him. “Okay, soldier, out with it. What have you done this time?”
“Well . . . what you said about Alfred’s toy truck made me feel pretty bad.”
“We’ve already discussed this. Why are you still brooding about it?”
“I started feeling this terrible burden of guilt, so I came up to the machine shed to hide. But you caught me.”
“Are you sure you haven’t done something else? Look deeper into the darkness of your Inner Bean.”
“No, it was the truck. It made me feel like a rat, messing up a kid’s toy.”
“Drover, that doesn’t make sense. If you felt like a rat, why did you walk like a crab? Crabs and rats are not the same; therefore, they are very different.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Crabs СКАЧАТЬ