LITMIR.BIZ

      “Drover, please try to be . . .” I ran those words back and forth through my mind. “Murphy Turkey Lurking. Hmmm. You know, you might have stumbled onto something important. Those three words have a very suspicious ring, almost as though they were meant to go together.”

      “Yeah, and I came up with ’em all by myself.”

      “Don’t get carried away, son. This is just the tip of the ice pick. The question we must ask ourselves now is ‘Why are the turkeys lurking?’ Is it possible that they’re plotting a rebellion?”

      “Well, let’s see here . . .”

      “And who is this Murphy character?”

      “Well . . .” Drover rolled his eyes around. “You don’t reckon he might be . . . a spy, do you?”

      I glared at the runt. “A spy? Don’t be absurd. Turkeys are harmless birds, and also they’re not very smart. Nobody would recruit a turkey to be a spy. In other words, no. Your theory doesn’t cut water.”

      “Oh drat.” His face fell into a heap of wrinkles, but then he brightened. “Wait a second. What if he’s not a turkey at all, but he’s a spy . . . wearing a turkey suit?”

      I couldn’t help laughing. “Drover, sometimes you say the craziest—a spy wearing a turkey suit? Ha, ha! Why, that’s . . .” I gave it some thought. “On the other hand, it would be clever, wouldn’t it? I mean, nobody would ever suspect . . . it’s just the sort of trick “they” might come up with. Of course! A Turkey Rebellion! You know, Drover, you might have just blown this case wide open.”

      All at once he was hopping up and down. “Oh goodie, I’m so happy!”

      “But once again, we can’t allow ourselves to get carried away. For you see, Drover, our work on this case has just begun.” I shot a glance at the wild turkeys. All at once they looked very suspicious. “We need a volunteer.”

      His smile faded. “Oops. You mean . . .”

      “Yes, Drover, you’ve been chosen, out of all the dogs in the world, to volunteer for a very important mission.”

      “Well, you know, I’d love to volunteer, but this old leg sure has—”

      “It’s a great opportunity, son. It’ll give you a chance to prove who you really are.”

      “Yeah, but I already know. I’m the one who’s scared of turkeys.”

      “Rubbish. Turkeys are harmless. Now listen carefully.” I glanced over my shoulders and dropped my voice to a hoist . . . to a whisper, let us say. “Go back out there and infilterate their group. Be polite, turn on your charm, get to know them and win their confidence. Listen to their conversation and try to determine which one is Murphy the Spy. When you get a positive ID, come back and we’ll plan our next move.”

      “Well . . . if you really think I can do it. Should I pretend that I’m a turkey?”

      “No, I don’t think that would work. Your legs are too short, and you’ve got a stub tail. Just pretend you’re a dog—a dog who wants to get to know a few turkeys.”

      “I think I can do it, ’cause I really am a dog.”

      “Right. Good luck, soldier. I’ll stay here at Command Central and man the rodeo.”

      “You mean the radio?”

      “That’s what I said. I’ll stay here and man the radio.”

      “Yeah, but you’re not a man.”

      “All right, Drover, I’ll stay here and dog the radio. Now get moving. We’ll meet back here at oh-eight hundred.”

      “Okay, here I go!”

      I watched as he went skipping away—a happy little dog who had found a place for himself in the big wide world. I felt a glow of fatherly pride, knowing that I had helped bring a small ray of meaning into the garbage heap of his life.

      Then he disappeared from sight and I was alone again—alone with my thoughts and the mementos of a long and glorious career, alone in the echoing chambers of the Security Division’s Vast Office Complex. I heaved a sigh and returned to the grinding routine of . . . snork murk snickelfritz . . .

      ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

      Chapter Two: Murphy the Spy

      I fought sleep as long as I could, but there are two powerful forces in this world that a dog can’t resist. The first is sleep, and I don’t remember the second one.

      So, yes, my struggle against the forces of sleep was doomed to fail, and after minutes and minutes of fighting to stay awake, I must have slipped the surly bonds of Life and sailed out into the misty harbor of delicious sleep.

      It was wonderful! All the weeks and weeks of sleepless nights, all the cares and worries of running the Security Division, all the frayed nerves and knotted muscles melted away like . . . something. Mothballs in a pouring rain, I suppose, or maybe snowballs in a pouring rain.

      Sugar cubes in a cup of hot tea.

      Graham crackers in a glass of milk.

      They all melted away, is the point, and there for a few moments, I felt myself . . . Suddenly a voice cut through the silence.

      “Hi Hank, I’m back.”

      I jacked myself up to a sitting position and began the backbreaking process of cranking open my eyelids. There stood Drover—grinning, happy, and dumb. And wigwagging his stub tail. “Were­wolfs wear rumple buckets—you just left. How could you be back so snooze?”

      “Well, I made friends with the turkeys and got ’em to tell me everything.”

      “Talkies? What are you turking about?”

      “Turkeys, wild turkeys. See, you sent me on an important mission to incinerate the turkeys, and I did and now I’m back.”

      “Yes, of course. Be still a minute and let me think. And stop wagging your tail. It hurts my ears.” I walked several steps away and filled my lungs with carbon diego. My private moments were over. I had been pulled back into the world of worry, care, and responsibility. I walked back toward the little runt. “All right, Drover, I’m ready to hear your report.”

      “Gosh, did you fall asleep again?”

      “No, I did not. I was merely . . . give me your report on the turkey spies. Did you find Murphy?”

      He sat down

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