by David Kersey
CHAPTER TWELVE
Cassie and I talked, and talked, probably way longer than we should have. We would pay a price in the morning by not being as alert as we should. It was worth it if you ask me. We talked at length about the differences between cats and dogs. We agreed that we are both alike in many ways, and different in many ways. She confessed that in general cats consider themselves superior to dogs, but then softened the idea by saying the superiority was probably a result of the cat kingdom being jealous of dogs. I countered with my thought that dogs really don't seem to care much about who is the favorite in a human's household as long as there is something to eat. We both chuckled and she knew I was being diplomatic. Actually it was "first date" behavior. I was putting my best paw forward.
Then we pushed that idea about differences into the human realm. We decided that humans are more alike than the differences between cats and dogs. There's big ones, small ones; skinny ones, fat ones; dark ones and light ones; smart ones and, well, you know. No big deal so far, both cats and dogs fit right in to those same pigeon holes. We also agreed that, like cats, some humans considered themselves superior, and many are like dogs, in that it didn't matter much as long as their needs were met. We decided that the biggest difference between humans and cats and dogs is that humans have thumbs. We liked that idea even though we knew we were kidding ourselves. It was late, so we left it at that. But before I drifted off to sleep I knew that it would be John and humans like him that would save my hide and the other animal's too. No use kidding myself.
I arose before Cassie and walked outside the kennel. There in front of my feet were three dead bulldog ants. I knew that had to be the work of Oliver. After all, he can see at night extremely well and had already proven his skill in destroying at least one of these ants during the Wendell tragedy. Obviously there were escapees from yesterday's fire. How many is the big question. And where did he find these three?
I scrambled through the hedge that separated the car park from the pasture, then rose up and rested my front legs on the fence. There was Mort, and he had a lot of company. At least a half dozen pigs laying asleep, it appeared, plus four cows, and one horse. I wondered if these are the Klein neighbors. Probably so. And if they are, why would Klein let them go? He must think it's safer here than it is there. So, by including our own three or four that would make about a dozen heavyweights if we have to utilize the stomp strategy. Of course, we would have to teach the newcomers. Wouldn't it be nice if we had our own cattle, but John sold off the entire herd last summer? We will have to make do with what we have.
I returned to the car park and let out a howl as loud as I could. I figured it would rouse Cassie and summon Oliver.
"Good morning, Buck," Cassie said while suppressing a yawn.
"Good morning Queen Cassandra," I said, which was intended to demonstrate my good mood.
"Did you howl to waken me, you could have just tapped me on the shoulder?"
"I am calling for Oliver," I partially fibbed. "There are three dead ants by the kennel and I want to know where he found them before we do much of anything else. I think Klein's livestock showed up, there's a bunch of new folks in the pasture."
"That might be a good thing Buck, we could use some heavies."
"Let's go look at Mozetta's garden, I want to show you something." As we rounded the kennel we could see Mozetta was in her garden, and she noticed us.
"Ya'll stay outta here. You leave my vittles alone or I'll skin ya alive," Mozetta threatened.
I whispered to Cassie, "You see that row of berries, they must be full of nectar?"
"Yes, they are, Buck, and they are very good to eat."
I looked at Cassie and her sheepish grin. She said, "What's the matter Buck, cat got your tongue?" Well wasn't Cassie sassy this morning?
I heard Oliver chirp from in the direction of the garage. I knew he didn't want to be anywhere near Mozetta, she had a shotgun.
When we found Oliver at the side of the garage, I asked, "Where did you find the ants?"
"Where the cornfield used to be. Those three I left for you to see were already dead. There were more crawling around there but I didn't want to press my luck, and apparently they are dazed because they won't leave the burned out area. I flew all night long, looking around. I didn't see any outside the cornfield so I didn't sound the alarm."
"Thank you, Oliver. I slept fairly well knowing you had our backs."
"Now that you're up, I'm going to go get some shuteye. Howl if you need me." With that Oliver rose and glided out of sight.
So it appeared that the chemicals John and the other men sprayed around the perimeter were doing the job. Still, we need to be careful. I have the feeling that a lot of ants got out of there before the spray was applied. This type of ant burrows in soft soil and it is almost impossible to detect the tiny entry holes they make.
"Buck?"
"Yes, dear?"
"You snore."
“Cassie?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You purr.”