“Yeah, but I never heard of . . . Hiney Skiing.” His eyes popped open. “Oh, you mean the way you came down the hill, on your . . .”
“Shhh.”
Using one of the clever tricks we employ in the Security Business, I gave Drover three winks of my left eye. This alerted him that we were conducting secret business. Heh heh. Pretty shrewd, huh? You bet. The cat didn’t see it and never suspected a thing. Heh heh.
At last Drover grasped what was going on. “Oh yeah, Hiney Skiing.”
I chuckled and gave the runt a pat on the shoulder. “You just forgot, right? But now you remember that Hiney Skiing is actually a very difficult technique that we’ve spent years perfecting, right? Explain that to Pete. He doesn’t know anything about it.”
Drover turned to the cat, who was watching us with a puzzled smirk on his mouth. “Oh yeah, we ski on our tails all the time. It’s a very technical difficulty and we’ve spent many perfect years . . .” Drover turned to me. “What was the rest of it?”
“We’ve spent many years perfecting it.”
“Oh yeah.” He turned back to the cat. “And we’ve spent perfect money protecting it.”
I pushed Drover out of the way and marched back to the cat. “There, you see? There’s eye-witness testimony from two of the Security Division’s top executive officers. The next time you see us Hiney Skiing down a slope, I hope you’ll show a little more respect.”
Pete moved his eyes from one of us to the other, and he began twitching the last inch of his tail back and forth. “My goodness, Hankie, I had no idea. I thought you were just a couple of clumsy dogs staggering around on the ice.”
Drover and I exchanged secret winks and grins. “Well, now you know, Kitty. It isn’t every day that we can take time out of our busy schedules to improve your tiny mind, but this time we were glad to do it.”
“Oh, thank you, Hankie! Thank you ever so much.”
Heh heh. Can you believe it? The dumbbell ate it up, gulped it down, swallowed the whole thing. The truth is, it was nothing but a windy tale. Hee hee. No kidding. Hiney Skiing? Pure rubbish. I’d never heard of such a thing and neither had Drover, but we had used teamwork and superior intelligence to win another victory over the cat.
See, anytime we can pull nasty little tricks on Pete, we consider it time well spent. It’s not only clean, wholesome entertainment for us dogs, but it also keeps the cat from knowing exactly what we’re doing on the ranch.
That’s pretty important. These cats need to be humbled on a fairly regular basis, don’t you see, otherwise . . . well, they start getting wild ideas about who’s in charge. Pete’s even more inclined that way than most cats, and keeping him humble and off balance is a very important part of . . . we’ve already covered that.
Anyway, Drover and I had worked a perfect scam on Kitty-Kitty and . . . tee hee . . . I’m sorry, I don’t mean to gloat, but our victory over the cat was delicious. We were very proud of ourselves. We were in the midst of a celebration of winks and grins when, all at once, the door of the house opened and out stepped . . . Our People.
Loper, Sally May, Little Alfred, and Baby Molly. They were the family who owned and lived on our ranch, the very ones we of the Security Divison had sworn a solemn oath to protect and defend.
As you might expect, my whole body began tingling with joy and excitement. Our People had come out of the house on a cold, miserable day, just to see and say hello to . . . well, ME, you might say, and maybe Drover too, but to a much lesser extent.
Our People had spent a long and lonely night inside an empty house . . . well, not exactly empty, but it was a house without dogs, and a house without a dog is like . . . something. It’s a lonely place, just a cold, empty, echoing chamber. But now . . . they had come outside to see ME and to seek the kind of deep and meaningful companionship that only a dog can give.
Oh, happy day! I leaped to my feet and went to Broad Swings on the tail section. Somehow, in the excitement of the moment, I stepped on the cat—Reeeeeer! Hisss!—and flogged him on the nose with my tail, heh heh, but that was no problem. I mean, when Our People appear on the scenery, my interest in cats drops to zero.
“Oops, sorry, Pete. Move out of the way and you won’t get stepped on. You’re dismissed. Good-bye.”
Kitty crawled away, beaming me an icy glare. That was fine, he could glare all the ice he wanted and I didn’t care. I had better things to do than worry about a shrimpy little cat.
Our People had come!
Chapter Three: Pete and I Become Friends
They were all bundled up in their winter coats and hats and gloves, even Baby Molly who was zipped up in some kind of thing that looked like a sleeping bag. A snow suit, maybe that was it, a pretty little pink snow suit, with a cap to match. And Sally May was wearing a furry hat.
As they came down the sidewalk . . . actually, you couldn’t see the sidewalk because it was covered with snow . . . as they came down the invisible sidewalk, Loper said, “Hon, I’m not comfortable sending you off to town on these icy roads.”
And Sally May said, “Oh, we’ll be fine. I’ll take it easy.”
“If you could wait ’til I’m done feeding cattle, you could take the pickup.”
“I’d rather go now and get it over with. The weather tomorrow might be worse. We’ll be fine.”
They came to the gate. I was waiting on the other side, trembling all over with excitement and antiperspirant. Anticipation, let us say. I was trembling all over with joy and longing. My heart was beating a wild rhythm in my chest. My tail whipped back and forth with such vigor, I could hardly keep from staggering around, I mean, we’re talking about Broad Joyous Swings on the tail section.
My eyes were shining with dogly devotion. My ears were perked and my lips had formed themselves into a smile that said, “Here I am!”
I waited. I tried to be patient but, hey, this was tough.
Loper opened the gate for his wife. She stepped through the opening. Perfect! I went into Deep Crouch and sprang upward, throwing all my devotional so-forths right into the middle of her . . .
“Hank, get down!”
Huh? Okay, maybe I got carried away and threw a little too much devotion into the procedure, because she . . . well, the weight of my enormous body seemed to, uh, cause her to stumble backward, you might say, while I fell back into the snow.
But you know me. I’m no quitter. I picked myself off the ground and went straight into the Reload Procedure. I recoiled my hind legs and prepared to . . .
“Hank, for crying out loud, get away!” That was Loper’s voice, and it sounded a little . . . well, harsh, even angry. Oh, and he kicked snow at me. What was the meaning of . . .
They all glared down at me—everyone but Little Alfred, that is, and he was laughing. Fine boy. But the rest of them . . . yipes. Their eyes burned holes in me. My ears began to melt. My tail began to sag.
Sally May stepped forward and stuck her face right next to mine. “Don’t jump up on me. I don’t like that. No, no, no!”
Well, gee, I’d only been trying to . . . I mean, they’d been inside the house all night without a loyal dog, and I just thought . . . oh brother. Well, her face was right there in front of my nose and I was suddenly seized by the thought that, hey, the least I could do would be to give her a juicy lick on the face, right? So . . .
SLURP.
“Stop that! Get away from me!”
Okay, I’d forgotten that she didn’t appreciate, uh, Licks on the Face. I mean, we’d been through this on several occasions but in the heat of the moment, I had just . . .
“Scat! Shoo!”
Fine. I could scat, but she didn’t need to screech at me. Dogs have feelings too. In a flash, I drew my tail up into a position we call “Gee Whiz” and went slinking away. I slank over to the front of the car and took refuge behind the right front tire. There, I peeke
d out and listened to the rest of the conversation.
Sally May: “I wish you’d teach that dog some manners.”
Loper: “Hon, he’s just trying to be friendly.”
Sally May: “I know he’s trying, but he’s . . . he’s so dumb.”
Boy, that hurt. You talk about an arrow piercing your heartmost heart! Her words pierced me deeply and opened such a huge wound, I wasn’t sure I would ever . . .
“Gosh, Hankie, I’m sorry you got in trouble.”
Did you hear that? Maybe not, since you weren’t there, but I heard it. It was a familiar whiny voice, very much like the voice of a certain cat. I tore my gaze away from the scene at the gate, crawled out from under the car, and looked straight into the eyes of . . . Pete.
On instinct, my lips began to curl into a snarl. “You again? What did you say?”
“I said, I’m sorry you got in trouble with Sally May.”
“Ha. Lies, Pete. You expect me to believe you’re actually sorry?”
He gave me a look that seemed . . . well, almost sincere. I mean, he’d even stopped smirking. “I really mean it this time, Hankie. I saw it all. You were trying so hard to be a good dog.”
“Well, yes, I was but . . . you really mean this, Pete? This isn’t one of your sneaky tricks?”
He raised his left paw in the air. “Honest, Hankie, Cat’s Honor.”
Well, this was almost too shocking for words. I mean, this cat and I had spent years building up a lousy relationship, and yet . . . I had to admit that he looked sincere. And he had mentioned a very crucial detail—that I was trying to be a good dog.
Well, at this dark moment in my history, I needed a friend, even if that friend was a cat. I heaved a sigh. “Thanks, Pete. As you can imagine, this is very discouraging.”
“I know. Poor doggie.”
“Right. I mean, sometimes I wonder what a dog’s suppose to do to please these people. You wait for ’em to come outside and you spend hours preparing a little presentation to show ’em how much you care . . .”
Pete gave his head a sad shake. “And they don’t appreciate anything. This is so sad, Hankie. I only wish . . . there was something I could do to help.”
I stared at him for a long moment. “You mean that?”
He began purring. “Well, of course I do. We cats are very sensitive, you know. When we see others experiencing the pain of rejection, it makes us sad.”
“Honest? I can’t say I knew that and . . . okay, maybe I’ve been overly suspicious, Pete, but you must admit that you’ve pulled some sneaky tricks on me in the past.”
“I know, Hankie, and they were fun at the time, but now . . . well, what kind of cat would take advantage of a dog at a time like this?”
“Good point. Only a rat of a cat would do such a thing, and I mean a real genuine rat of a cat. And I guess you’re saying that’s not you, huh?”
He began rubbing on my front legs. “Oh no, Hankie, not at all.”
“Hmmm, well . . . I must tell you that I’m shocked, Pete.”
He looked up into my eyes. “You called me by my real name, instead of Kitty-Kitty.”
“Yeah, well, if we’re going to be friends, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to . . . hey, Pete, I really appreciate your concern here, but I must tell you in all honesty that your rubbing gets on my nerves.”
Get this. He stopped rubbing against my front legs! I mean, no growling or snarling, no argument, no fighting. He just . . . quit. And then he said, “I’m sorry, Hankie, I forgot.”
I must admit that this blew me away. I mean, for years and years Pete had used that rubbing business to irritate me, but now he had quit—without a big scene. Could there be better proof that he had actually undergone a radical change, had decided to give up schemes and dirty tricks?
It was hard to believe all this, but the facts were beginning to overwhelm my ability to deny them. My misfortunes had touched Pete’s heart, and he had become something we had never seen before: an honest, friendly cat.
Are you touched by the warmth of this scene? I was. It almost brought tears to my eyes but not quite. It was too cold for teary displays of emotion. Those tears will freeze on a cold day, you know, and who needs that? But as far as me being touched and moved by Pete’s decision to become a Better Cat, an honest and sincere companion in a time of need . . . yes, I was moved and touched to the very depths of my inner bean.
At that very moment, as I searched for words to express my thoughts and emotions, I heard crunching footsteps in the snow. Sally May loaded the children in the backseat, closed the door, gave Loper a good-bye kiss, and trudged around the front of the car. When I heard her coming my way, I, uh, found myself creeping back beneath the car, so as to avoid . . .
I mean, let’s face it. Only minutes before, I had been exposed to one of her Thermonuclear Moments, and I had every reason to think that she was still holding a grudge. She’s bad about holding grudges, you know, and I had better things to do than to be on the receiving end of her scorching glares.
So I wiggled my way under the car and waited for her to walk around to the driver’s side. Crunch, crunch. I saw her black snowboots pass by, and suddenly I realized that Pete was there beside me, under the car.
“You look surprised, Hankie.”
“I’m shocked, Pete. I’m astounded. You could have walked Sally May around to the driver’s side and gotten your usual pats and rubs for being a nice kitty.”
“I know, Hankie, but . . .” He turned his eyes toward heaven . . . actually, toward the bottom of the car. Anyway, he lifted his gaze and heaved a sigh. “I just couldn’t bear to leave you alone at such a sad time. I thought you needed someone to . . . share your sorrow.”
Boy, what do you say to that? I was at a loss for words. Had this cat undergone a complete change of attitude or what?
The car door slammed shut and Pete said, “We’d better get you out from under here, Hankie, or you’ll get squashed. Quick!”
“Hey, good thinking.”
We scrambled out from under the car, just as Sally May put it in reverse and began backing out of the driveway. We watched her for a moment, then I turned my gaze on . . . well, on my friend, might as well go ahead and use the word. It wasn’t a word I had used to describe Pete very often.
“Thanks, pal. I got distracted, wasn’t thinking. You did me a big favor there.”
“Glad to do it, Hankie. I just wish . . .” He heaved a heavy sigh. “I only wish I could think of a way to help you heal the wound with Sally May.”
“I know, me too. But some wounds just don’t heal.”
“If only . . . if only we could think of some heroic deed.”
“Right, but it’s too late for that, Pete. She’s leaving the ranch.”
We watched as Sally May gunned the motor, spun the tires, and started up the little hill in front of the house.
Suddenly Pete’s eyes sprang open. “Wait! I’ve got it. You could run in front of her car.”
“Huh? What would that do?”
“Well, you’d be escorting her, don’t you see, showing your care and devotion.”
“Yeah, but I still don’t see . . .”
“You could run very slowly . . . to keep her from slipping and sliding on the icy road. Don’t forget, Loper was very concerned about that.”
I ran all this information through Data Control. “You know, Pete, I think you’ve got something there. It would be heroic, wouldn’t it?”
“Oh yes.”
“And she’d be grateful, wouldn’t she?”
“Oh yes, um-hmmm.”
I placed a paw on his shoulder and looked deeply into his eyes, which seemed very sincere. “Great idea, pal. I think this will do the trick. Thanks a million.”
I turned myself into the wind and went straight into the Launch All Dogs Program. As I roared aw
ay, I heard Pete’s final words of encouragement. “Don’t forget, stay right in front of the car . . . and go slow!”
“Got it, Pete! Thanks a bunch!”
And with that, I went streaking off to engage in Special Escort Duty.
Chapter Four: Special Escort Duty
Now you know about Special Escort Duty. Pretty impressive, huh? You bet. I mean, how many dogs would go to the trouble of providing such a valuable service to their misters and mattresses?
Masters and mattresses.
Masters and mistresses. How many dogs would . . . so forth? Not many, I can tell you that. Very few. Only one. Me.
And what makes it even more impressive is that I came up with the whole idea on my own. No kidding. One minute I was sitting there in the snow, trying to think of some heroic deed that would score me some points with the Lady of the House, and the next minute . . . bingo! There it was: a Special Escort Service that would provide Sally May and her children a safe journey out of ranch headquarters on the treacherous icy roads.
Awesome concept.
Maybe you thought it was Pete’s idea. Ha ha. Not at all. See, your average cat has a tiny brain and is incapable of generating large, noble concepts. They’re pretty good at performing certain simple tasks, such as purring, rubbing, licking their paws, and mooching scraps, but give ’em a big job that requires a broad sweeping intelligence and they just can’t handle it.
So, yes, I had come up with this new concept entirely on my . . . okay, maybe Pete had mumbled something about it, but we can attribute that to Dumb Luck. It had been a shot in the dark, in other words. After years of loafing on the job and following a pampered life, Kitty-Kitty had come up with one shrimpy little idea, but don’t forget who took that idea and turned it into a bold course of action.
Me.
We’ll give Pete credit for coming up with a pretty good shrimpy little idea, but give me credit for putting it into action. In other words, Pete had absolutely nothing to do with the Special Escort Duty. I’m sure you’ll agree with that.
The Case of Twisted Kitty Page 2