Gulp.
I decided that my best hope in this hopeless situation would be to leave the road—or what used to be the road—and follow the creek in a westerly direction. That would give me some protection from the wind and a trace to follow.
There was only one small risk in this approach. On our way down to Slim’s place, we had seen several coyotes dash across the road. Where do you suppose a coyote would go if he got caught out in a blizzard?
To the low ground, to the creek bottom, to the shelter of trees and bluffs.
Fellers, the thought of bumping into a band of hungry cannibals didn’t exactly warm my heart, but neither did the thought of getting lost in the blizzard.
So I stopped thinking about it and staggered down the hill toward the creek bottom. It was much better down there. The snow wasn’t nearly as deep and I made good time, traveling right on the edge of the water where the snow had melted away.
Yes, this was fine. I increased my pace from a slow walk to a rapid walk, and then to a trot. I began calculating my Estimated Time of Arrival and figgered that if all went well, I would reach the house in about . . .
HUH?
Rip and Snort? Blocking my path? Surely this was a tropical illusion, sometimes when you’ve been traveling for a long time through snow, you become snow-blind and your eyes begin playing . . .
Licking their chops?
Uh-oh. Fellers, I had just blundered into the winter camp of a couple of dog-eating coyotes. That’s not something you want to do when you’re out on an important errand of mercy.
Chapter Nine: Snowbound with Cannibals
I did a quick about-face and began marching in the other direction, hoping that the coyotes might think they had seen a mirage. Or something.
I had only gone three steps when I heard them shout, “Halt! Stop! Not try to escape!”
I, uh, pretended not to hear them. That can happen sometimes, when the wind’s blowing hard. I hoped they’d understand, but just in case they didn’t, I cast a glance over my . . . they were coming after me, plunging through the snow with big leaps.
“Halt! Not walk away when coyote say halt!”
I picked up my pace somewhat, moving into a rapid walk and then into a dog trot. When I sensed that this wasn’t working, I reached for the afterburners and went to Escape Speed.
And ran smack into them. Those guys were fast.
They weren’t smiling, not at all. They looked very serious, almost angry. Angry. And hungry.
Snort narrowed his eyes and gave me a sniffing.
“That you, Hunk, with face covering up with many snowflake?”
“Me? With my face covered up with snowflakes? No, it’s not me at all. There’s been some mistake.”
“Uh. Snort thinking we find ranch dog name Hunk.”
“Oh no. No, no. No, not at all.”
“You looking berry much like Hunk, Snort think, and Rip too.”
Rip nodded his head, and they continued to stare at me with their yellow eyes.
“No, I think this is just a simple case of mistaken identity, Snort. I’m not me at all. That is, I’m not who you think I am, unless . . . eh, just out of curiosity, what do you think of this ‘Hunk’ feller? Tell me about him.”
“Chicken dog.”
“No, that’s not me.”
“Dummy ranch dog.”
“See? You’ve got the wrong guy, and I really . . .”
Snort blocked my path. “Hunk all the time making coyote look foolish, play many trick.”
“No! You mean, there’s a dog around here who could make you guys look foolish? I can hardly believe that.”
“Better you believe that.”
“Right. I believe that with all my heart and soul and liver and . . .”
“Coyote hungry for liver.”
“I didn’t say liver. I said ‘heart and soul.’”
“Uh. Coyote hungry for heart.”
“I didn’t say heart. I must have misquoted you, so let me run the whole thing past you again. I said, ‘I believe that will hardly deliver my soul,’ is exactly what I said, word for word. Honest.”
“Nothing about hearts or livers.”
“Not make sense, ‘hardly deliver soul.’”
“You’re right, Snort, so let’s just scratch out the business about the soul. That leaves us with, ‘I believe that will hardly deliver the mole.’ How does that grab you?”
“Ha! Mole not grab coyote. Coyote grab mole and swallow in two bites, yum yum.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere! What you guys need is a nice fat mole to eat, and I’ll bet that if you’d stick your heads into that big snowdrift over there and count to five thousand, you’d find one. No kidding, I really think you’d . . .”
“You wipe snow off of face.”
“Say what? Wipe snow off of . . .”
Rip stepped forward and slugged me under the chin, causing my head to fly back and red checkers to form behind my eyes, and sending the snow flying off of my face.
And all at once I was exposed, stripped of my disguise in front of two of the most dreadful cannibals in Ochiltree County.
They gave me big toothy grins. “Ah ha, Hunk hiding behind snow!”
“No, wait a minute. I wasn’t exactly . . .”
“And now Hunk captured.”
“Captured? Well, surely we can . . .” I glanced around and checked out the escape routes. The coyote brothers filled them.
“Hunk not try run away.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t think of . . .”
“Hunk stay for supper.”
“Thanks, Snort, but I really ought to . . .”
“Because Hunk MAKE supper for hungry brothers, ha ha.”
“That’s not funny, Snort. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, laughing at the misfortunes of others.”
He stuck his nose right in my face. “Rip and Snort tear up whole world and spit, not feel ashamed for nothing.”
“Okay, let’s try another approach. You see this thing around my neck? It’s medicine for a sick child—a little baby girl-child who has a terrible cough.”
“Coyote not give hoot for terrible cough.”
“I haven’t finished yet, Snort, and I’d appreciate it if you’d suspend judgment until I’m done.”
“Coyote not give hoot for suspender juggling.”
“Of course you do. See, you probably didn’t realize that I’m on an errand of mercy.”
“Coyote not give hoot for arrow of mercy.”
I glared at them. “Rip, Snort, I must tell you that I’m shocked and dismayed. I’ve never encountered such closed minds and cold hearts.”
“Uh! Coyote hungry for heart.”
“Forget I said that, I’m sorry I mentioned it. The point is that I’m shocked and dismayed.”
“Ha! Coyote not give hoot for chock full of dismay.”
“Okay.” My mind was racing. I had to come up with something, real quick. “Let’s try another approach: singing.”
Their ears shot up and their yellow eyes began to sparkle. “Uh! Coyote give BIG hoot for singing! Rip and Snort berry greater singest in whole world, oh boy.”
“I doubt that, Snort. You guys might be . . .”
Snort poked me in the chest with his paw and curled his lip just enough to expose two rows of incredible fangs. “Hunk not bad-talk coyote music! Rip and Snort berry greater singest in whole big world!”
“Yes, well, I hope you didn’t think I . . . what I’m saying, guys, is that you might be great singers . . .”
“Not might. Greater singest for sure!”
“All right, for sure, but you haven’t heard my latest love song.”
Rip rolled his eyes. “Uh.”
“But I can already tell that you’re dying to hear it.”
Snort shook his head. “Not dying.”
“All right. You’re not dying to hear it, but you’re very anxious to hear my latest love song.”
“Coyote rather eat than hearing love song. Coyote not give hoot for love.”
“But this is a different kind of love song, Snort. It’s about fleas.”
He perked up on that. “Uh! Coyote got plenty fleas.” He sat down in the snow and began scratching his ear with his hind leg. “Got flea right now, ha!”
“See there? I knew you’d like it. It’s called, ‘Oh Flee, My Love.’”
They were waiting for me to sing. I could tell that I had picked . . . perked . . . piqued . . . pricked their interest. Gotten their attention. Tapped into their cultural level.
Snort stopped scratching and frowned at me. “So? Love song about flea okay with coyote. Hunk sing about loving flea.”
“Well, I really hadn’t come prepared . . . I didn’t bring my music, don’t you see, and . . .”
“HUNK SING!!”
“All right, all right, but remember that you forced me to do this.”
And with that, I sang them my latest bombshell of a song.
Oh Flee, My Love!
I saw her face that snowy night and felt the love bug crawl.
As melting snow dripped off my chin, I promised her my all.
Or if not all, then some of it, the part that I could spare.
I offered her my heart’s spare part, I promised it right there.
Her eyes showed pure astonishment, I knew I’d done the trick.
Her mouth turned up into a smile that would have melted brick.
I knew I had her on the ropes, I knew I couldn’t fail.
And that’s when I became aware of something near my tail.
At first I tried to let it slide, I figgered it was just
That same old crawling bug of love I’d noticed right at first.
And so I winked my eye at her and gave her one more thrill,
But suddenly that bug of love attacked me with a drill.
When something’s drilling on your tail, it’s hard to keep your suave,
I lost my concentration then and knew I had to solve
The mystery of that piercing pain that had a hold of me
The bug of love that bit so hard turned out to be a flea!
Chapter Ten: Devoured by Coyotes
Well, I finished my song and turned to the coyote brothers. They were staring at me with dull brutish expressions on their dull brutish faces.
“What do you think, Snort?” No answer. “Would it surprise you to know that that song was based on a true life experience?” No answer. “It happened to me only last night. I’ll bet you’d like to hear the whole story behind it, huh?” He yawned. “Okay, here we go. It all began last . . .”
“Coyote not caring for love or pretty music.”
“Yeah, but all things considered, it’s the kind of song that a coyote can really go for. I mean, it was so good, you’re probably thinking about letting me go.”
They got a big laugh out of that.
“Or maybe not. Which is just fine, as long as I don’t have to listen to any of your lousy coyote songs.”
That got their attention, which is what I had hoped might happen. I had run out of good ideas, see, and was stalling for time, in hopes of postponing supper.
Snort pushed himself up and came lumbering over to me. “What means, ‘lousy coyote song’?”
“It means . . . well, I hate to put it this way, Snort, especially with your hot breath right in my face, could you back up a little bit? No? Okay, we’ll just . . . I hate to say this, but I doubt that you guys have a song that’s in the same class with ‘Oh Flee, My Love.’”
“Uh. What’s meaning ‘class?’”
“Class is something you’ve never had, Snort, and probably never will. I mean, you guys only know one song, right?”
“Guys know two song.”
“All right, two songs.”
He counted three claws on his right foot. “Coyote know seven song.”
“Wait a minute. You counted three claws. How could you come up with seven songs?”
He scowled and counted again. “One. Four. Seven. Coyote know seven song.”
“No, no. You cheated, Snort. One claw plus one claw plus one claw makes three claws.”
He stuck his nose in my face. “One claw plus one claw plus one claw make fat lip if dog not shut up.”
“Oh, I see now. You’re using Coyote Mathematics.”
“Whatsomever.”
“Which means that you count to three, multiply by two, and add one.”
“Uh-uh. Add two, not one.”
“No, that would make eight.” He whacked me on the nose. “No, by George, that would make seven.”
“Ha! Hunk pretty smart.”
“Yes sir, that Coyote Mathematics is pretty foxy stuff.”
“Coyote not like fox.”
“That’s what I meant. It’s not foxy at all.”
“Coyote know seven song.”
“That’s certainly the bottom line, isn’t it?”
“Uh.”
“Which means that you’ve got a song or two I haven’t heard, and I’ll bet you’re scared to sing in a blizzard.”
“Ha! Coyote not scared of buzzard.”
“Yeah, but I said blizzard.”
“Coyote eat lizard in one bite. Not scared of lizard.”
“No, you missed it again. I said . . .”
He poked me in the nose. “Hunk talk too much. Coyote not scared of nothing.”
“All right, then sing your old song. I dare you to sing it right now, in the middle of a blinded snow . . .”
He shoved me down into a sitting position. “Hunk shut trap and listen.”
“I can handle that.”
“And after we singing, then we eat, oh boy!”
“I don’t think I could hold another bite, Snort.”
“Shut trap!”
“Yes sir.”
I shut my trap and listened to their new song. It turned out to be another low-class musical experience, a little piece of coyote trash called “We Don’t Give a Hoot.”
We Don’t Give a Hoot
I guess you might think we are dumb and stupid,
And maybe you think we can’t sing.
And maybe you think we can’t make up rhymes,
And if that’s what you think . . .
Then we’ve got a message for you, mister,
And you’d better listen real good,
’Cause we’ve got one thing to say to you
And here is what it is . . .
We don’t give a hoot,
We don’t ever wear a suit.
We’re nothing but animals,
Outrageous cannibals,
We don’t give a hoot.
I guess you might think that we smell bad
But it’s only because we stink.
But who wants to smell like petunias?
Not me . . .
Me and my brother don’t want to offend
Anyone with our smell,
So if you should find us offensive,
We will beat you up . . .
’Cause we don’t give a hoot,
We don’t ever wear a suit.
We’re nothing but animals,
Outrageous cannibals,
We don’t give a hoot.
Being a cannibal’s lots of fun and goofing off,
We don’t ever have to take baths.
Or clean up our room or eat any spinach
Or dental floss our teeth . . .
We fight all the time and howl at the moon,
And
pick our noses a lot.
And if you don’t like what we’re singing
We’ll beat you up again . . .
’Cause we don’t give a hoot,
We don’t ever wear a suit.
We’re nothing but animals,
Outrageous cannibals,
We don’t give a hoot.
Well, when they finished their song, Snort swaggered over to me. He was wearing a huge grin on his face and I could tell that he was proud of himself.
“Uh! What Hunk say now?”
“Well, uh, you might say that I’m at a loss for words . . . so to speak.”
“Better find words real quick, so to speaking.”
“Right. Well, Snort, on the one hand, that is a very, uh, strange song.” He bared his fangs. “But on the other hand, it’s strangely beautiful, in a strange sort of way.”
“Not strange.”
“Exactly. Not strange at all.”
“Only beautiful.”
“Right, you stole the words right out of my mouth.”
“Ha! Coyote like to steal.”
“Yes sir, you’re quite a thief, Snort, and I say that from the bottom of my . . .”
Oops.
A gleam came into Snort’s eyes. “Uh! Coyote hungry for heart!”
“I didn’t say that word, honest, cross my heart . . . oops.”
“Coyote not care what Hunk say. Coyote ready for big grub, oh boy!”
They were coming toward me, licking their chops.
“Now wait a second, let’s don’t . . .” I started backing up. “How about another song, guys? I mean, it would be a shame to quit just when we’ve . . .”
They were shaking their heads.
I kept backing up until my backside backed into an embackment. Embankment, that is. And there I stopped. I had reached a dead end and was surrounded by cannibals.
In the Security Business, we have developed many escape procedures for many difficult situations, but we have never solved the puzzle of how to escape a dog out of a dead-end situation, surrounded by cannibals.
That’s a toughie. All reported cases have ended in sudden death, followed by feasting, singing, and loud belching.
In other words . . . I think you’ve got the picture. I was in BIG trouble.
Lost in the Blinded Blizzard Page 5