Every Dog Has His Day
Page 6
“We can come back to that later if you have any questions, or we could pause here and . . .” Snort shook his head. “No, let’s move along. Well, Slim was worried about what might happen if the pasture moved away. I mean, let’s face it, nobody really knows what’s under this pasture, and so he brought me down here—I’m the Head of Ranch Security, you see, and in emergency situations . . .”
Snort poked me in the chest with his paw. “Get to point of story, not mess around with bunch talk.”
“I’m getting there. In fact, I’m there already. Here’s the point. Slim brought me down here for one purpose and one purpose only: to hold down this section of the pasture and keep it from drifting away.”
“Uh.”
“That explains why the stump is tied to me. And I’m sure you’ve already figgered out what might happen if I were suddenly, well, eaten.”
“Uh.”
“But just in case you haven’t, let me explain. In a matter of minutes, this entire section of the pasture could drift away, leaving a bottomless pit in its place—and I’m talking about a deep, black bottomless pit with no bottom. I’ll bet that scares you, huh?”
They shook their heads. “Not scared because Rip and Snort not believe one word of lying stupid story.”
“Not even one little word?”
They pushed up off their haunches and came a step closer. Their glittering eyes made me uneasy. “Now time for eat and then take big nap.”
It was time for me to make a break for freedom. I hit the end of the rope with a full head of steam, hoping that it would break one more time, only it didn’t and I did a back flip and landed hard on the ground.
I coughed and staggered to my feet. “All right, you’ve got me cornered. I’ll admit that. But aren’t you forgetting something? What about the ancient coyote custom of letting a captive fight for his life?”
Big smiles spread across their faces. “Uh! Fight? Coyote never too busy for big fight.”
“Exactly. But instead of engaging in your ordinary tooth-and-toenail kind of brawl, I challenge you both to a series of contests that will test our skill and courage.”
“Uh!”
“If I win, I’m a free dog. If I lose, I’m a free lunch. What do you say? Do you have guts enough to put your lousy reputations on the line?”
“Coyote have plenty guts and not scared for lousy reputation. Hunk not have chance.”
“Maybe so, Snort, but you’ve got it to do. All right, here’s the first event: the rope-chewing contest. The first one to chew this rope in two is the winner. Ready?” They knocked each other down taking their positions at the rope. “On your mark. Get set. Go!”
It’s amazing what a stinking, illiterate coyote can do to a piece of stout rope. Those guys took two snaps each and amputated a two-foot section from the bottom end of the rope. I finished dead-last, which was all right, since I didn’t care for the oily taste of the rope anyway. Cable, I should say.
Snort spit the cable out of his mouth and gave me a big grin. “Ha ha! Hunk lose pretty big.”
“Yes, so it appears. But I think you just got lucky.”
“Uh? Not luck. Win because berry tough.”
“Well, we’ll see about that. This next event will be a real test of your . . .”
At that moment, I heard a flutter of wings and the sound of branches snapping in the cottonwood tree above us. Rip and Snort heard it too. We all looked up and saw . . . not cattle, as you might have suspected, but two big black ugly birds sitting on a limb some ten feet above us.
I recognized them at once: Wallace and Junior, the buzzards. And I can’t say that I was glad to see them. When buzzards arrive on the scene, it usually means that somebody’s luck has gone sour.
My luck was getting better, but it still wasn’t out of the woods, so to speak. Yes, I had tricked the coyotes into chewing my rope in two, but I didn’t dare make a break for freedom. Not yet, not while those thugs were still in good running condition.
Wallace stuck out his skinny neck and looked us over. “Y’all go ahead on, don’t pay any attention to us. We come early to make some side bets, is all we done, and then we’re gonna stay for dinner.”
“Oh yeah?” I yelled. “Who says there’s going to BE any dinner? As a matter of fact, we’re in the midst of the First Annual Wolf Creek Decathalon, and although it might appear that the coyotes have a small lead at this point . . .”
“The coyotes have a BIG lead, pup, we seen it all from the air, and Junior, I’m taking the coyotes and giving three-to-one odds.”
“Uh-uh okay, P-P-Pa, and I’ll t-t-take my d-d-doggie friend, doggie friend.”
Wallace gave his head a shake. “Son, don’t ever bet on your friends or your kinfolks. It causes hard feelings when you go to eat, so just play the odds and never mind the friendship. I’ve told you that before.”
“Y-yeah, I g-g-guess s-so.”
“Because, son, the world’s divided into three parts: heart, mind, and stomach.”
“Y-y-yeah.”
“And you should always listen to that still, small voice in your stomach. It’ll never lie to you or let you down. No buzzard has ever got a broken heart by listening to his stomach.”
“Y-y-yeah, but he’s s-s-still my f-f-friend and my p-p-pal, and we s-s-s-sing together, sing together.”
“He AIN’T your friend and he AIN’T your pal and he can’t sing any better than I can, and I can’t sing at all, but you ARE gonna bet on him because I’ve got the coyotes at three-to-one.”
“Uh . . . okay.”
“And I’ve told you over and over and over, you cut out this silly talk about bein’ a singer when you grow up, nobody in my family has ever been a singer and nobody in my family is ever gonna be a singer, and when my coyote boys win, I get first dibs on a hind laig.”
I guess Snort didn’t like that. He looked up into the tree and curled his lip. “Buzzard get big hurt, not first dibs.”
“Well, we’ll just see about that, and in the meantime, y’all hurry up, we ain’t had a bite to eat in three days, this boy of mine is old enough to be taking care of his poor old daddy but he’s such a ninny, hurry up, would you please?”
Rip and Snort grinned and shook their heads. “Coyote not take orders from buzzard. Coyote do what coyote want, ho ho.”
Old man Wallace leaned down and stuck out his tongue. “Well ho-ho your own self, and DON’T hurry up, see if I care, ’cause we got no place else to go and nuthin’ else to do.”
“Uh!” Snort turned back to me and poked me in the chest. “That better. Hurry up.”
I had kind of hoped the argument would drag on for a couple of days. Give Hank the Cowdog two or three days and he’ll always find a way to get out of a jam. But it appeared that my time frame had been shortened to something like fifteen minutes.
This was my last chance, fellers. I was fixing to walk a tightrope across the canyon of life, and from here on, the story gets pretty scary.
Chapter Eleven: Out-Singing the Cannibals
I took a deep breath and tried to calm my nerves. Ordinarily, my nerves resemble high-grade steel, but competing in front of cannibals and buzzards has always bothered me.
“All right,” I said to my opponents, “you guys won the first round.” They nodded. “Through sheer luck, if you ask me.” They shook their heads. “But luck won’t save you in this next event. It’s going to be a test of brute skill.”
“Coyote not scared. Got plenty brute and plenty skill.”
“We’ll see about that. This next event will be a contest to see which of us can sing the better song.”
The brothers broke out laughing. “Ha ha! Hunk lose for sure this time. Rip and Snort sing better than whole world!”
“Maybe and maybe not. I happen to have a real crackerjack of a song myself. You guys go first.”
S
nort shook his head. “Hunk not give orders. Hunk go first.”
“All right, if that’s the way you want it, you guys go second.”
Snort showed his fangs. “Hunk not give orders! Hunk go second!”
“All right, but I’ll have to file a protest over this. I wanted the first shot.”
“Uh. Coyote always take first shot.”
The brothers went into a huddle and planned their song. While they were whispering their signals, Wallace grumbled about how he wished they would hurry up. At last, the brothers turned around.
I had expected them to sing “Me Just a Worthless Coyote,” the Coyote Sacred Hymn and National Anthem. I’d heard that one before, and in fact, I’d helped them sing it on a few occasions. I knew my song would beat it.
To be real honest about it, I didn’t suppose, they knew another song. But they did. This one was entirely new. It was called, “Daddy Packed His Suitcase ’Cause Momma Was a Mean Old Bag.” In the middle of it, Rip pulled out a trombone and played a solo, kind of surprised me, I didn’t know he had that kind of talent. Here’s how it went.
Daddy Packed His Suitcase ’Cause Momma Was a Mean Old Bag
Daddy had a weakness for wimmen who could spit and cuss.
He liked ’em mean and ragged because he didn’t care to discuss
The finer points of love and eternal bliss,
He had no use for tenderness.
Oh, Daddy was a villain looking for a villainess.
Well, he met our ma at a waterhole, they said that she was having a drink,
She was sitting in a corner and said she didn’t think
There was a man in the world who could tame her down,
She could whup any man in Coyote Town.
Daddy said he wanted a wildcat, and fellers, that’s what he’d found.
He walked up to our momma and slapped her right across the chops.
She kicked him in the brisket and slugged him with a wicked right cross.
He knocked her to the floor but she jumped right up,
Loosened five front teeth and yelled, “Beware, old pup!”
Oh, Daddy screamed and hollered,
He’d found himself the girl of his dreams.
They were married in a junkyard, the honeymoon was spent in a fight.
This was coyote love for certain.
Instead of trading kisses, they’d bite.
Daddy stayed around until he lost a bout
And then he hit the road ’cause Momma threw him out.
Oh, Daddy packed his suitcase ’cause Momma was a mean old,
A not so very clean old,
Our momma was a mean old bag.
When Rip and Snort finished, they whooped and hollered and slapped each other on the back. They were real tickled with their performance, and I had to admit it was impressive.
“Ha! Hunk not have chance against coyote love song!”
“Is that what it was? I guess love gets pretty rough in your neighborhood.”
“Everything rough in coyote neighborhood. Coyote like tough old gals.”
“I see what you mean.”
Up in the tree, old man Wallace had to put in his two cents worth. “Now Junior, that’s what I call music. I don’t know why you can’t sing good wholesome country-western instead of that noisy stuff you do with that dog. And yes, I think we have a winner. My coyote boys have definitely won the contest.”
“Hold on, buzzard,” I called out. “You haven’t heard my song yet.”
“No, but I’ve heard you before, puppy, and I know real talent when I don’t hear it and anyways, I’m bettin’ on the other side, and if you ask me . . .”
“I don’t think anybody asked you, and I have my doubts that anybody ever will. When it comes to music and culture, the opinions of a buzzard don’t carry much weight around here.”
“‘Well, that just tells you what kind of cheap-john outfit you’re runnin’ here, and just for that, I’m gonna sleep through your whole song.”
I gave him a dark and angry look, but the truth of the matter was that I couldn’t have been more pleased. Wallace didn’t know it, but he was walking right into my trap.
I turned back to the coyote brothers. They were staring at me with stupid grins and heavy eyes. They had been up all night and had mentioned that they were tired, right? I couldn’t expect a fair deal in a singing contest with a couple of cannibals, right? And they planned to eat me immediately after my performance, right?
Hencely, my only hope of escape lay in putting the whole bunch to sleep, and it happened that I had chosen a song that just might do it.
“Are you guys ready for this?”
“Ready for Hunk lose contest.” Snort chuckled and then broke into a big, toothy yawn.
“Hold on. I don’t want you guys going to sleep on me. I stayed awake through that dreary thing of yours, and you have to stay awake and listen to mine.”
The grin vanished from Snort’s mouth. “Hunk not give orders to coyote. Coyote not take orders from lunch meat.”
“All right, but I don’t want you going to sleep in the middle of my song.”
“Coyote sleep when coyote want sleep, never mind what Hunk think. Sing!”
“Very well, Snort, if that’s the way you want to be. Here goes. Junior, why don’t you help me on the chorus? I’d like to spiffy it up a little bit, and with your gorgeous voice and my gorgeous voice . . .”
Junior grinned and nodded his head. “Oh bb-boy, that would b-be so m-m-much f-f-f-f-fun!
“All right, here we go.”
I turned to the coyote brothers and began my song—or, to put it another way, my secret weapon for putting them to sleep. If it worked, I would live to see another day and solve another mystery. If it didn’t . . . I would become coyote fodder.
Hank’s Lullaby
Your eyelids are heavy, your eyeballs are aching,
Your tongue is fatigued and your four legs are shaking and quaking.
Your eardrums are ringing, your nostrils are stinging,
It seems to me you should be going to bed.
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Surrender yourself to the call of the deep, baby.
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Close your eyes and start counting sheep.
The notion of eating or feasting or feeding
At this time of day when the whole body’s pleading and bleeding
For sleep is repulsive, remote, and convulsive.
You really should think about going to bed!
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Surrender yourself to the call of the deep, baby.
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Close your eyes and start counting sheep.
A couple of big handsome guys like yourself
Should stop eating so much and consider your health and your waistline
And dog meat, I’ve read, has more calories than bread.
It’s a whole lot more fattening than going to bed.
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Surrender yourself to the call of the deep, baby,
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Close your eyes and start counting sheep.
One two three four five sheep
One two three four five sheep
One two three four five sheep
One two three, one two three four five sheep
One two three four five sheep
One two three four five sheep
One two three four five, a whole bunch of sheep
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Surrender yourself to the call of the deep, baby,
Sleep, baby, sleep.
Close your eyes and start counting sheep.
Chapter Twelve: I Win the Singing Contest and Rescue the Boss
It worked!
By the time we finished up the last chorus Rip and Snort lay in a big twitching pile on the sand, not merely asleep but out of this world.
And up in the tree, old man Wallace was in the same condition. At any moment, I expected to see him fall off his perch.
“Well, Junior, I’d say we just by George knocked ’em out with our song.”
“Y-yeah, something h-h-happened, ’cause they s-s-sure went to s-s-s-s-sleep, went to sleep.”
“Just what I wanted them to do, Junior. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll just ooze out of here and vanish in the underbrush. When your old man wakes up, tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t stay for dinner.”
“H-he’s g-g-gonna be m-m-mad.”
“Yes indeed. And you can tell him that he might as well get used to being mad, because any time he deals with Hank the Cowdog, he’s going to finish in last place.”
I d-d-don’t think I’ll t-t-t-tell him th-th-that.”
“Whatever. See you around, Junior, and thanks for your help on the song.”
He gave me a sad smile and waved his wing. “B-b-bye, D-d-d-doggie.”
With the stealth of a tiger, I slipped into the jungle and disappeared. While the coyote brothers were asleep, I had to put some mileage between us. They wouldn’t sleep forever, you see, and when they awoke, they just might try to follow my scent—also the trace in the sand, left by the rope I was dragging. Cable, I mean.
I picked my way through the willows, heading in a northerly direction, until I came to the edge of the brush. I poked my head out and took a look around the pasture.
I had this problem, you see. Although I had escaped from the cannibals, I couldn’t assume that the cowboys would welcome me back with open arms, so to speak. If you recall, I had been implicated in a stampede, and on our outfit, the cowboys got pretty serious about stampedes.
The long and short of it was that I was trapped between two hostile forces. I had no good place to go, and yet going no place would get me nowhere—if you can follow that.
I headed east, staying out in open country but close enough to the brush so that I could take cover if some wild, crazed cowboy came after me with a loaded rope.