The Case of the Most Ancient Bone. John R. Erickson

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СКАЧАТЬ what we were doing on that particular morning. Drover and I had initiated the Dog Maintenance Program and were waiting for a blizzard to rescue us from the heat, when all at once I noticed . . .

      “Drover, why are you staring at me?”

      He blinked his eyes and grinned. “Oh, hi. Did you say something?”

      “I did, yes. I asked why you’re staring at me.”

      “Oh. Was I staring at you?”

      “Yes. That’s why I asked the question. What’s the answer?”

      “Well, let me think here. What was the question again?”

      “Why are you staring at me?”

      “Oh. You noticed?”

      “Of course I noticed. Answer the question and hurry up.”

      “Well, I guess I was staring at you because . . . I didn’t have the energy to stare at anything else. It’s hot out here.”

      “I realize that it’s hot, Drover, but how much energy would it take for you to move your eyeballs one inch to the left or right? That’s all it would take, you see. Just move your eyeballs one inch.”

      “Which way?”

      “I don’t care. Just move them.” He moved his gaze one inch to the left. “Thanks. I know that was asking a lot, but I appreciate it.”

      There was a moment of silence. “How come I can’t stare at you?”

      “Because I don’t enjoy being stared at.”

      “Well . . .” A quiver came into his voice. “It kind of hurts my feelings.”

      “Oh brother. Look, what if I sat around all day, staring at you? How would you like that?”

      “I wouldn’t care. That’s what friends are for.”

      “Okay, buddy, we’ll put that to the test. I will now direct my gaze at you and stare, and we’ll just see how you like it.”

      I went to the huge effort of shifting my eyeballs two full inches to the left and began the Staring Procedure. Oh, and I even narrowed my eyes, just to put a little edge on my gaze. Minutes passed and soon I began to feel the strain.

      “What do you say now? How does it feel to be stared at, huh?”

      “It doesn’t bother me.”

      “Of course it bothers you. Nobody enjoys being stared at. Why don’t you just come out and admit it?”

      “ ’Cause I don’t care. I’m too hot to care.”

      “Okay, fine. I’ll keep it up. I’ll stare at you for the rest of the day.”

      I continued to direct my gaze toward Drover’s face and let my eyes blur into his murfing mork ponking honkeypoof . . . let my eyes bore into his . . . snerk muff mork . . .

      The heat, the terrible heat was burning me up and all at once I was having trouble . . . snorff . . . keeping my pielids . . . keeping my eyelids open, shall we say, and I felt my inner-self being pulled into the dark tunnel of . . . zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

      Suddenly I heard a voice from outside the tunnel. It said, and this is a direct quote, it said, “How come you quit staring at me?”

      My eyelids quivered, and I heard myself say, “It wasn’t me, you can’t prove a thing.” Then . . . hmmm . . . my vision returned to the present moment and I found myself looking into the eyes of . . . Drover. “Oh, it’s you again. What were we discussing? I seem to have lost the thread of my train . . . the train of my track . . . my train of thought.”

      He grinned. “Well, you said you were going to stare at me all day, but I think you fell asleep.”

      “Yes, of course, it’s all coming back to me now.” I pushed myself up on all-fours and shook the vapors out of my head. “Drover, this heat is destroying our lives. It’s forcing us into irrational forms of behavior, such as staring at each other. It’s even leading us into loony conversations. If we don’t do something to fight against the forces of chaos, we’ll sink into the mire and become a couple of worthless dogs.”

      He yawned. “Gosh, what should we do?”

      I began pacing, as I often do when my mind has shifted into a higher level. “We’ll fight back, Drover. We’ll get up off our duffs and call upon our reserves of Iron Discipline. We’re cowdogs, don’t ever forget that.”

      “Not me. I’m just a mutt.”

      “Okay, you’re just a mutt, but I’m a cowdog, and cowdogs have always been just a little bit special. Here’s the plan. On the count of three, we will . . .” Suddenly my legs wilted and I collapsed to the ground. “On the count of three, we will do nothing.”

      “I think I can handle that.”

      “Because this heat is killing us.”

      “Yeah, it’s hot.”

      “And the terrible heat has melted our reserves of Iron Discipline and turned us into chicken soup.”

      “Boy, I love soup.”

      “But that doesn’t mean that you can stare at me, Drover. It’s an invasion of my privacy and I will not tolerate it, do you understand?”

      He yawned again. “What?”

      “I said, this private invasion of my tolerance must stop!”

      “I thought it was chicken soup.”

      “Of course it was chicken soup, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be intolerant once in a while.”

      He gave me a blank stare. “I think I missed something.”

      I gave him a blank stare. “Yes, I’m getting that same feeling myself. It’s the heat, Drover. It’s causing us to babble and behave like lunatics.”

      “Oh no. What should we do?”

      I cut my eyes from side to side. It was a moment of decision. “Let’s . . . let’s just lie here and do nothing. We’ll wait for the first snowstorm of the season.”

      “Yeah, and maybe we should stare at each other.”

      “Great idea. Okay, now we have a plan. On the count of three, we’ll put our plan into action.”

      “Someone’s coming.”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      Drover pointed a paw toward a cloud of dust to the north. “Someone’s coming. I think it’s a pickup.”

      “You know what? I don’t care.”

      “Yeah, me neither.” After a few moments, he said, “I bet that СКАЧАТЬ