The Fling. John R. Erickson
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Название: The Fling
Автор: John R. Erickson
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Учебная литература
Серия: Hank the Cowdog
isbn: 9781591887386
isbn:
“Yeah, but I’m scared of big trucks, ’cause they roar and belch black smoke.”
“Belching is impolite, Drover, but it’s nothing to fear. I’ve heard you belch before. Were you frightened by your own belching?”
“No, but I don’t belch black smoke. And I’m not a truck.”
I glared at the runt. “Drover, I’m aware that you’re not a truck. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“I’ve wondered.”
“What?”
“I said . . . I’m not a truck.”
“Of course you’re not a truck. If you were a truck, you wouldn’t be a dog, but what’s wrong with being a dog? Why, all of a sudden, do you want to be a truck?”
“Well, I guess . . . boy, I sure get confused.”
“Exactly my point. You’re confused, Drover. Any dog who dreams of being a truck is badly confused. We need to . . .” I stopped in midsentence and walked a few steps away. “I seem to have lost the thread of this conversation. What were we discussing?”
“Well, you said I couldn’t be a truck. But I already knew that, and besides, I never wanted to be a truck. I’m happy just being a dog.”
I walked back over to him and looked into his eyes. “Do you really mean that? If it’s true, Drover, then this conversation has had a huge impact on your life. If you feel that you can find happiness and meaning in your dogness, then this has been time well spent.” His eyes crossed. “Don’t cross your eyes while I’m talking to you about the meaning of life.”
“Okay, sorry.”
“Now, tell me the truth. Do you think you can go on with your life, even though you’re not a truck?”
“I guess so.”
“Great!” I whopped him on the back. “We’ve managed to pull you back from the edge of the brink. Now, I observe that there’s an unidentified cattle truck on this ranch. Let’s march down there and give him the barking he so richly deserves. Are you ready for this?”
“I’m still a bit confused.”
“Get used to it, son. Some of us are born confused and some of us get that way through hard work. Now, let’s move out. For this maneuver, we’ll go to Turbo Four.”
“I don’t have a two-by-four.”
“In that case, follow me and study your lessons. We’re going to show this guy what happens when cattle trucks show up on our ranch without permission. Let’s go!”
And with that, we taxied out of the machine shed. After a brief takeoff sequence, I rammed the throttle down and went straight into Turbo Four. Trees, rocks, and other objects flew past. Halfway down the hill, I saw trouble looming up—a bunch of chickens.
I barked a warning.
“Out of the way, you fools!”
I had to alter my course just a bit to run through the middle of them, but I got ’er done and bulldozed ’em. What fun! What joy! Their squawking and flapping brought a rush of new meaning into my life, and once again I understood why no ranch dog should ever wish to be a truck.
That’s kind of weird, isn’t it, Drover wishing he could be a truck? Oh well. He’s weird. I’ve said it many times.
And so it was that Drover and I intercepted the trespassing truck just as it was turning around and getting ready to back up to the loading chute. I roared up beside the cab and began laying down a withering barrage of barking. Drover joined me and added a yip or two.
“Halt! Stop that thing and park it, buddy. We need to see some paperwork before you back up to our loading chute.”
The driver stared at me. Description: small guy, young, big black cowboy hat pushed down on his ears, glasses that made him look like a dragonfly, and a stringy little mustache that I would have been ashamed to wear out in public.
He stared at me and kept backing up.
“Okay, pal, we tried it the easy way. Get out of that truck or we’re fixing to disable it.”
He ignored me. How foolish of him.
That left me with little choice. I rushed to the left front wheel and was just about to rip it to shreds with my enormous jaws, when . . .
HUH?
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