The Case of the Perfect Dog Page 3

  He said, “Well, I’m glad Western Horseman ain’t here to do an article on The Great American Cowboy. This is the most pathetic farmer-looking deal I was ever associated with: two treed cow-boys and one dog under the trailer!”

  “Well, do something!”

  “Do what?”

  “I don’t know, throw rocks at him! I’ve got a meeting at four o’clock.”

  “Moe, Larry, and Curly, where are you?”

  At that point, something amazing happened. You won’t believe this.

  Okay, our ranch crew was in the process of receiving one of the most humiliating defeats in history. We had set out on a simple task, to load a bull, and the bull had ended up loading us.

  I was embarrassed. Loper was mad. Slim was beyond mad. But then something really strange happened. A big yellow Labrador retriever stumbled out of some wild plum thickets on the south side of the road, and—this is the most amazing part, so pay attention—on his head he was wearing a BIRD CAGE!

  I’m not kidding. A bird cage!

  Slim was the first to see it. “Good honk, what IS THAT?”

  Loper squinted his eyes and looked. I squinted my eyes and looked. Neither of us could believe what we were seeing. But here’s the best part: the bull couldn’t believe it either. He had no idea what that thing was that had just stepped out of the brush, but he’d never seen one before and he wanted no part of it.

  He jerked his head back and forth, swished his tail, darted to the left, ran straight to the trailer door, and hopped inside. I’m not joking. I saw it with my own eyes. The bull loaded himself!

  For several long seconds, we all stared and blinked back our astonishment. Then Loper yelled, “Don’t just sit there, shut the gate!”

  Slim sprang out of the back of the pickup, rushed to the trailer, and closed the gate. His hands were shaking so badly, it took him fifteen seconds to secure the latch. If the bull had whirled around and hit the gate, old Slim would have been wearing it for a necktie.

  But you know what? That bull—the same big oaf that had terrorized two cowboys and one top-of-the-line cowdog for thirty minutes—that one-ton hunk of pure meanness stood there like a lamb and didn’t move a hair.

  Once Slim had gotten the gate latched, he almost fainted with relief. Loper climbed down from the tree and tried to put on a dignified face. Me? I rushed out from under the trailer and delivered a withering barrage of barking.

  The three of us met at the rear of the trailer, and at that point, we turned our gazes upon the guy who had loaded our bull, the yellow Lab. There he stood, grinning at us and swinging his long, thick tail back and forth. He looked about as smart as a cord of wood.

  Loper was the first to speak. “Nobody’s going to believe this story.”

  Slim shook his head. “Where in the cat hair would a dog find a bird cage out here?”

  “I have no idea. What’ll we do with him? He’s not wearing a collar.”

  Slim mopped his face on the sleeve of his shirt. “Well, I’d say take him to the house and give him a good feed. He deserves it. He sure bailed you out of a mess.”

  Loper grumbled something under his breath, went to the dog, and pried the bird cage off his head. It wasn’t so easy. The mutt had stuck his big head through a little door that had been built for canaries. Loper gave him a pat on the head and pointed toward the back of the pickup. “Load up. Jump.”

  The big lug grinned and thrashed his tail. Apparently he didn’t understand “load up” or “jump,” so Slim had to pick him up (with much grunting and wheezing, I mean, that was a big dog) and pitch him in the back. I had planned on riding up front with the executives, but Loper’s mood had soured and he made me ride in the back.

  Okay, fine. If they didn’t want my company…I leaped into the back and we headed for home. Up in the cab, the argument raged on.

  Slim growled, “It sure makes me proud, working on a real cowboy outfit.”

  “Oh, dry up, will you? If you’re such a hot-rod cowboy, how come you unloaded my bull in the middle of the county road?”

  “Well, for the simple reason that the owner of this outfit forgot to latch the sliding gate.”

  “And the head-cowboy never checks his equipment.”

  “Are you ever going to admit that you caused this whole mess?”

  “No, but I might dock your paycheck for putting skid marks on the livestock.”

  “Loper, you are the stubbornest, hard-headedest, mule-temperedest man I ever met.”

  On and on. Those two could argue for days about nothing. Tomorrow, they would pick another topic and argue about that.

  I rode back to headquarters with Bird Cage. He faced the front and seemed to be perfectly content, letting the wind blow across his big floppy tongue. I didn’t try to make conversation. To be honest, I really didn’t care about the details of his life. He had stumbled into my world without being invited, and until we sent him down the road, he was going to be nothing but a problem.

  Does that sound harsh and unfriendly? Maybe so, but I don’t care. Hey, this isn’t a dude ranch or a resort for lost dogs. We have work to do, and no time to entertain visitors.

  Back at headquarters, we unloaded the bull in the corrals. He circled the front pen a couple of times, and stopped when he saw me sitting on the other side of the board fence. Down went his head and he started pawing up dirt again—the same silly routine we’d seen before.

  As you might expect, I conducted myself as a mature gentleman. “Hey, jerk, do you think anyone around here is scared of you? Ha. You’re pathetic. If you’re so tough, how come we got you loaded in the trailer, huh? It was like loading sheep, easiest job I ever had. Oh, and that business about you taking a spill on the county road? Very shrewd, pal. You need to try that again sometime.”

  Hee hee. I love tormenting bulls, and the more dirt they paw up, the better I like it. Of course, it helps to have a good stout fence between us.

  Chapter Five: The Bird-Cage Dog

  Slim and Loper drifted down to the house and found Sally May, Alfred, and Baby Molly out in the yard. Loper told them about our big adventure and introduced them to Bird Cage. Sally May came out the gate and stroked him on the head.

  “He’s a sweet dog…but what will you do with him?”

  Loper shrugged. “I guess we’ll just keep him around until we can find the owners. Somebody will be looking for him. They’ll show up.”

  “Look at the size of his feet! Well, what should we call him?

  Slim was slouching against the gate post. “How about Blunderbuss? He ain’t too graceful.”

  Sally May shot him a glare. “Blunderbuss! What an awful name for a nice dog.” She looked down at the mutt and smiled. “He has such a happy face. How about Happy?”

  Loper nodded. “Works for me. Let’s get him some groceries. I ‘spect he hasn’t had much to eat for the past few days.”

  Sally May laughed. “I imagine not—wearing a bird cage on his head.”

  Sally May and the baby stayed at the house, and the rest of us escorted Happy Bird Cage up to the machine shed. Slim fetched a fifty-pound sack of dog food and filled the overturned Ford hubcap that served as our dog bowl.

  Have you ever been around while a Labrador was eating? To put it in polite language, they are “eager eaters.” I mean, this guy went through a bowl of Co-op like it was a snack for ants: slurp, slop, gone. And whilst he was wolfing it down, his tail was swinging around like a tree limb in a high wind. I know, because it caught me on the left side of the jaw and almost knocked me out.

  “Hey, goofball, watch the tail!”

  He didn’t even notice. By then, he was licking the crumbs off the bottom of the bowl and begging for more. Slim filled the bowl again and the big oaf went through it in about two minutes, and was ready for thirds. He didn’t get thirds. By that time, Loper had begun to wonder if the ranch could afford the luxury of having a lost Lab on the place.

  We walked down to the gas tanks and Loper pointed to the gunny sacks. “Happy, this is the bunkhouse. Stay out of the yard, leave the cat alone, and don’t bark in the night, and we’ll get along fine.” He turned to me. “Hank, show him the ropes and keep him in line.”

  Me? Keep him in line? Hey, I hadn’t invited him. I hardly knew the guy and I hadn’t been hired to be a babysitter for stray dogs.

  Loper bent at the waist and brought his face close to mine. “By the way, the next time I need help loading a bull, I’ll drive to town and rent a poodle.”

  I stared into his eyes. I couldn’t believe he’d said that. Rent a poodle! I’d never been so insulted. What a low-down cheap shot! For his information…

  He didn’t wait around to hear my defense. He never does. As I’ve said before, these people really don’t want to know what their dogs think. But this is still America, by George, and for the record, here’s what I thought about his outrageous comment.

  People who talk about renting poodles don’t know beans about dogs. If they did, they’d show more respect for the cowdog breeds. Not only do we have keen instincts about livestock…okay, maybe my performance hadn’t been so great, but what about Loper’s performance? We’re talking about a grown man, a self-described “cattleman,” who’d spent part of his afternoon hiding in a tree!

  I wished we’d made a movie of the entire episode. I would have run it forwards and backwards. An audience of normal people would have laughed themselves silly. I mean, how many times did the bull put him up the tree? Twice? Three times? What kind of example was he setting for his dogs? Hey, when the boss-man climbs a tree, what do they expect the dogs to do—march off to battle and get cream
ed?

  Rent a poodle! What an insult.

  Where were we? I got so caught up defending my reputation…oh yes, Loper didn’t hang around to hear my side of things. He had some big meeting at the church, remember? I wish I could have attended that meeting. I would have told his church friends all about the clown job I had witnessed that very…

  Oh well, a dog can’t allow himself to dwell on Life’s injustice. There are some things we can control and other things that we can only grumble about.

  The point is that Loper left the ranch and drove into town, and Slim started mowing grass, which left me alone with Happy Bird Cage. There we were, just the two of us in the Security Division’s Vast Office Complex, me and a seventy-five pound, loose-hided, floppy eared, town-raised dingbat Labrador who had been dropped in my lap. He was even sitting on my gunny sack bed!

  “Okay, pal, let’s get this over with. I’m Hank the Cowdog, Head of Ranch Security. You’ll be taking orders from me.”

  He gave me his happy grin. “Hi.”

  “Number One, you see that gunny sack you’re sitting on? That’s mine. Never sit or lie on my gunny sack. Do you copy?”

  “You mean…”

  “Move! On this ranch, we don’t say please. We don’t draw pictures or furnish Crayons. Stay off my gunny sack.”

  “Gee whiz, I didn’t know…”

  “Nobody cares what you don’t know. If we did, we’d die of a broken heart, because what you don’t know is everything.”

  “So…you’d like for me to move, right?” Before I could scream in his face, he moved over to Drover’s gunny sack. “Is this better?”

  “It’s better. It’s not best.”

  “I always try to do my best.”

  “Listen, genius, I’m not cruel enough to tell you what would be best for me, for you, for the whole ranch, so let’s move along. Number Two, they’ve dumped you on the Security Division and there’s nothing I can do about that. You should understand that you’re the new guy, a rookie, and we don’t like rookies. Don’t do anything that makes the rest of us look bad. Do you copy?”

  “Oh, I’d never do that.”

  “You already did. You loaded a bull that the rest of us couldn’t load.”

  “What bull? Oh, you mean that cow that hopped into the trailer?”

  “That wasn’t a cow, it was a fighting bull. Through incredible dumb luck, you managed to scare him into the trailer, and now everybody thinks you’re some kind of hero. That makes me look bad, understand?”

  “Not really. What should I have done?”

  The question caught me off guard. “I don’t know, but whatever you did, you shouldn’t have done, and whatever you should have done, you didn’t do. Am I making myself clear?” He gave me a blank stare. “Never mind. Where in thunderation did you find a bird cage?”

  He scowled. “I’m not certain about that. See, I’ve been as lost as a goose for two days and…” He glanced all around. “You know, this is a big place out here.”

  “Answer the question. Where did you find the bird cage?”

  “Well sir, I was walking around and I seen it in a pile of junk.”

  “Okay, next question. Why would a dog stick his head into a bird cage?”

  His smile slipped a little. “Boy, that’s a good one. It’s a natural question to ask, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Some of us would say that it wasn’t the smartest thing you ever did.”

  “Yes sir, that’s kind of what I thought…after I done it. I mean, that little bitty door didn’t hardly fit my neck.”

  “So why did you do it?”

  He gave that a moment’s thought. “It kind of snuck up on me. I smelt a bird and seen a hole, and next thing I knew, I was wearing the darned cage.”

  “You smelled a bird?” I narrowed my eyes and gave him a careful looking-over. “Labrador retriever. You’re a bird dog, right?”

  “Supposed to be, but my nose isn’t too good.”

  “You’re a bird dog and that explains everything. Oh brother! Once again, I’m stuck with a Birdly Wonder.” I paced a few steps away from him and tried to calm my nerves. “What are you doing out here? Don’t you have a home?”

  He had to think about that for a moment. “Yes, I have a home and a family, or used to.”

  “So where are they? What happened?”

  “That’s a little hazy. We were having a picnic and I think I wandered off, and this pickup came down the road and stopped.” He gazed off into the distance and smiled. “The driver told me to hop in and I hopped in and we drove some more and he let me out, and I’ve been lost ever since. Does that make sense?”

  “No. Why would you jump into a stranger’s pickup?”

  “Well, he was a nice feller, and…I don’t know, it just seemed like a good idea at the time. Maybe it wasn’t all that great.”

  “It wasn’t a great idea, take my word for it. You walked away from a good home, and now you’re lost—which, by the way, is typical bird dog behavior.”

  He glanced around and licked his chops. “Say, what time do y’all eat around here? I’m starved.”

  I paced over to him and gave him a snarl. “I’m glad you brought that up. You’ve already eaten. I was there and watched. You ate like five pigs!”

  “Well, I’m a big guy and I get hungry.”

  “Too bad. You eat too much. This ranch can’t afford your appetite.”

  He heaved a sigh. “I think I’m getting off to a bad start.”

  “Exactly right. Let’s try not to make it even worse. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

  “Maybe I can help.”

  “No. You can’t help. I don’t need a bird dog tagging along behind me. Stay here and try not to mess anything up.”

  “I hope I’m not a burden.”

  “You are a burden, but I guess you can’t help it. Stay off my gunny sack.”

  “Yes sir.” He stretched out on Drover’s gunny sack and lay still, with his eyes open. To be honest, he looked kind of…okay, maybe he looked sad. Was that my fault? No, it wasn’t my fault, and I refused to worry about it.

  In my line of work, a guy can’t allow himself to get weepy and sentimental about every little thing that happens. See, my ranch is the Real World, not some smoochy love story where dogs grin all the time and nobody ever gets crabby. You might recall that I live around people who gripe at me all the time. Remember Loper’s latest insult? “Next time I need help loading a bull, I’ll go to town and rent a poodle.”

  You think that didn’t run a spear right through my heart? Cowdogs have pride, and that hurt, but you won’t catch me sniffling and whining about it. No sir, I take my lumps and go back to work. If Happy Bird Cage had gotten his feelings hurt, that was too bad. He needed to develop a few calluses.

  The point is that I didn’t have time to worry about hurting the feelings of a stray bird dog, but the even larger point is that…well, as I was making my evening patrol of ranch headquarters, I found myself…uh…thinking that maybe I’d been too hard on the big lug.

  This was his first day on the place, after all, and he seemed to be a pretty decent sort of fellow. In spite of myself, I kind of liked his big happy grin, and when I’d seen him lying there with sadness in his eyes…

  Oh brother. I canceled my Evening Walk-Around of headquarters and returned to the office.

  Chapter Six: Happy Lab

  When I saw the empty gunny sack, a wave of concern swept over me. Happy was gone. My eyes darted around and my mind swirled. What had I done?

  At that moment, my ears picked up odd sounds that seemed to be coming from a location to the east. I lifted Earoscanners and zeroed in on the sounds. Moments later, I got a reading from Data Control: “Lawn mower and a child’s laughter, probably coming from the yard.”

  I hurried away from the office and followed the sounds. Approximately seventy-five feet from the yard gate, I stopped and took a visual reading, and saw an amazing sight. Slim Chance was driving the riding lawn mower around the gravel drive, and beside him on the seat was seventy-five pounds of grinning bird dog. Happy Lab was riding on the lawn mower, if you can believe that, and everyone loved it. Even Sally May was laughing.