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

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      “How come you’ve got a rag in your ears?”

      “I’m trying to gather up windmill tools, and I can’t concentrate with all the noise.” He jerked his head toward Slim. Slim stuck out his tongue and made a sour face.

      Alfred brightened. “Can I go wiff ya’ll and help?”

      Loper patted him on the head. “Not this time, son. It’s not likely to be much fun.”

      Slim muttered, “We can bet on that.”

      Loper shot him a dark glare. “Well, we’re burning daylight. Let’s get this over with.”

      They loaded into the pickup, and Loper started the engine. Over the noise, we heard Slim say, “Loper, you know the trouble with you?”

      “Of course I do. Poor help.” Then Loper turned up the volume on the radio, and they roared away.

      Little Alfred drifted over to us. “Hi, doggies. Want to play?”

      I gave him a wooden stare. Play?

      “We could play Chase the Ball.”

      Ha ha.

      “We could go exploring. Want to do that?”

      Exploring? I wanted to explore the inside of an ice-cold watermelon and stay there until the first snow of the season. Other than that, no thanks.

      He pushed out his lower lip at me. “Come on, Hankie, you’re no fun.”

      Right. Sometimes that bothered me and sometimes it didn’t. Right now, I just didn’t give a rip.

      He made an ugly face at me and started down to the house. “You’re just a lazy bum.”

      Exactly, and proud of it, too. Okay, I wasn’t proud of it. Being a lazy bum was nothing to be proud of but I couldn’t help myself, not in this heat.

      Ho hum. Time crawled by. Half an hour later, we heard sounds of life down at the house. A door slammed. Someone had come outside. With great effort, I swung my head around and saw Sally May standing in the yard, spraying her flowers and shrubberies with the water hose.

      “Drover, Sally May has come out of the house. One of us needs to go down to the yard gate and give her a greeting.”

      “How come?”

      “Because that’s what we do. It’s part of our job. When our people come outside, we’re supposed to greet them. Dogs have been doing it for thousands of years.”

      “No wonder I’m so tired.”

      “What?”

      “I said . . . I’ll be derned. Which one of us will do it this time?”

      I pondered that for a moment.” Actually, I was wondering if you might take it, Drover. It wouldn’t have to be anything fancy or special.”

      “What would I have to do?”

      “Not much, just our basic Howdy Routine—chug down to the gate, give her some wags and a smile, tell her that you care deeply about her life, and come right back. It would be an easy way for you to build up some points.”

      “I guess I could use the points.”

      “Exactly. It never hurts to build up a few extra points with Sally May.”

      “Yeah, but I have a problem.”

      I rolled my eyes. “All right, Drover, tell me about the problem.”

      “Well, I hate to admit it. You’d probably think I’m a louse if you knew the truth.”

      “That’s a risk we’ll have to take, I suppose. What’s the truth, and hurry up.”

      “Well . . .” He glanced over both shoulders and whispered, “I really don’t care deeply about her life.”

      I stared at the runt. “What? You really don’t . . . Drover, what kind of dog are you? I’m shocked and astamished that you’d even say such a thing.”

      “See? I knew it! I never should have told you the truth, but it’s true. I just don’t care deeply about her life, not today.”

      I took a breath of air and tried to absorb this astounding rulevation . . . revulation . . . revolution . . . I was shocked. “When did this start? When did you first notice it?”

      “Well . . . about thirty minutes ago. I think it has something to do with the heat. I just don’t give a rip about anything, and I don’t think I can care deeply about her life right now.”

      “What about last evening when it was cooler?”

      “Oh yeah, I cared back then, but now . . . I just don’t think I could pull it off. It would be a big fat lie.”

      “Hmmm. This is serious, Drover. It cuts to the very heart of what we are as dogs. I mean, if a dog doesn’t have deep feelings about his own people, what’s left?”

      “I don’t know. Four legs and a stub tail, I guess.”

      “That’s not much.” I jacked myself up off the ground. “All right, son, I’ll take this one, but I’m warning you. If we don’t see some improvement in your attitude, we’ll have to take some drastic measures.”

      He gave me a sad look. “Thanks, Hank. I’ll do better when the weather cools down, I promise.”

      Chapter Three: Sally May’s Oasis

      I left him lying in the shade. Just imagine, a dog that didn’t care about the lady of the house, the very lady who fed us scraps! What was the world coming to?

      Oh well. I tried to forget the sorry state of the world and made my way down the dusty dog trail to the yard gate. I could feel the sun baking the hairs on my back. My mouth was parched and dry.

      But in spite of it all, I marched to the gate, sat down in front of Sally May, and launched myself into the Howdy Program—switched the tail circuits over to Broad Caring Sweeps, went to Bright Lights on the eyes, and squeezed up a smile of Utter Sincerity.

      “Why, Sally May! I see you’ve come out of the house and you’re watering your shrubberies. I haven’t seen you in several hours and I just wanted you to know how deeply I care about . . .”

      What a pack of lies! I couldn’t go on with it. I flopped down on the ground. The Caring Wags came to a sudden stop. The Bright Lights went out in my eyes, and I found myself staring at the dusty ground.

      Who could care about anything in this heat? I had thought that I could pull it off, that all my years of training and discipline would get me through the routine, but the awful heat СКАЧАТЬ