Every Dog Has His Day. John R. Erickson
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу Every Dog Has His Day - John R. Erickson страница 4
Название: Every Dog Has His Day
Автор: John R. Erickson
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Учебная литература
Серия: Hank the Cowdog
isbn: 9781591887102
isbn:
I froze. Hadn’t I heard that sultry voice before? Hadn’t I experienced that sudden increase in heart rate and blood pressure that I now felt? The answer was yes, I had, and it had been caused by a certain gorgeous beagle dog named Miss Scamper.
I lifted my eyes and saw her head protruding over the side of the pickup bed. Description: lovely brown eyes with big lashes, long beagle ears, a freckled nose, a very exciting pair of jowls.
Even though my deepest heart of hearts belonged to my one and only true love, Miss Beulah the Collie . . . MERCY! Furthermore, the last time Beulah and I had met, she had snubbed me for a worthless, stick-tailed, spotted bird dog named Plato, and I hadn’t forgotten that snub or quite forgiven her for choosing a bird dog over a cowdog, and . . . MERCY!
“Well, blow me down,” I said, “I believe I’ve just stumbled upon one of the seven wonders of the world.”
“You could be right, but I didn’t know there were six others.”
“I may have miscounted, Miss Scamper. What’s a nice place like you doing in a dog like this?”
“I just came along for the ride, thought I might, ah, see some different scenery.”
“Well, I don’t know how the scenery looks to you, ma’am, but from down here, it’s just pretty awesome.”
“This must be your lucky day.”
“Indeed it is, Miss Scamper, which brings to mind a poem:
Roses are red, the gas tanks are gray
Holy tamales, it’s my lucky day!”
She winked. “Not bad, for a big old hunk of dog like you.”
“Would you like to hear another one?”
“Oooo! I’m not sure I can stand it, but let’s give it a try.”
“All right. Hang on, here we go:
Roses are red but your face is incredible
I’d gobble you up if I thought you were edible.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m so impressed with your poetry!”
“Hey, that’s only the beginning. Can you stand another one?”
“Just one more. I’ll try not to faint.”
“Fair enough. Here we go:
Roses will readily stab you with thorns
But this ache in my heart ain’t caused by a rosebush.”
The smile faded from her lips. “I think you missed on that one, big boy. It didn’t exactly rhyme.”
“Well, no, but that was a modern poem. They’re not supposed to rhyme.”
“I see. You just have an answer to every little question, don’t you?”
“Yes ma’am. I not only have answers to every little question, but I have answers to several big ones. Furthermore, I have answers to questions that haven’t even been asked yet.”
“How interesting!”
“And speaking of questions, what do you have planned for the next thirty years?”
I gave her a wink and she gave me one back. “I’ll, ah, have to look at my calendar and . . . ooooo, what have we here!”
Her eyes seemed to be looking past me. I turned my head and found myself peering into the face of a dog I had never seen before, didn’t know, and didn’t particularly want to know.
Description: black and white, long hair, long nose, medium height and build, pretty good conformation. In some ways, he resembled your border collie, a breed of dogs known for their ability to herd sheep.
On closer inspection, I began to suspect that he not only bore some faint resemblance to the border collie, but that he was a border collie, possibly one with papers and hot-rod breeding.
How could I have known all that in such a short span of time? Good question. The answer lies in my remarkable powers of concentration and a certain sixth sense I have about bloodlines. I mean, I can just by George look at a dog and pretty muchly tell you where he came from.
This one not only had the markings of a low-class sheepdog, but he also grinned all the time. Always grinning, that’s the border collie. It comes from the fact that they go around with their mouths open and their tongues hanging off to one side. (Try that yourself and see if it doesn’t make you grin.)
Let me pause here to point out that I’ve never had much use for dogs that fool with sheep, nor have I ever trusted a dog that went around grinning all the time, and furthermore, I didn’t care for the way Miss Scamper was making eyes at this one.
I had a feeling that me and this sheep-herder weren’t going to become bosom pals any time soon.
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.