LITMIR.BIZ

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the cat. Lock and load, we’re going in.”

      Suddenly the stillness of morning was shattered by the roar and scream of our P-37 rocket engines, and away we went—down the hill, through that grove of elm trees, past Emerald Pond, and skimming right over the top of the Security Division’s Vast Office Complex. Oh, you should have been there to see us!

      “Oat Bran, this is Corn Flakes. We are approaching the target. Repeat: we are targeting the approach. Pick an open spot and spot an opening. Let’s set these buggies on the ground.”

      Is this exciting or what? Your ordinary ranch mutts know nothing about this side of life—the danger, the excitement, the roar of the engines, the smell of rocket fumes in the air. Wow, what an adventure.

      We landed the aircraft on a level stretch of grass just south of headquarters, leaped out of the pitcocks, and changed into our assault gear. At the same time, I was keeping an eye on Target One, the cat. Pete. Mister Never Sweat. Mister Kitty Moocher. And suddenly I picked up on an interesting detail.

      I had launched this mission with the intention of doing some damage to the cat, but what I saw unfolding before my eyes made me have second thoughts. What I saw was a comedy, a display of silliness on a massive scale.

      Here’s the deal. It appeared that Pete had ventured away from the yard with the idea of playing Leo the Lion, King of the Jungle, and there he was, creeping along on his belly, twitching the last inch of his tail, and stalking the turkeys. After stalking and creeping, he sprang at the birds. That was the funny part. The turkeys just clucked and hopped out of the way.

      I mean, they didn’t run or fly. They were no more afraid of that cat than they were afraid of a bug, and I could see anger and frustration all over Kitty’s face and body. His ears lay flat on his head and the last three inches of his tail were slashing the air, and even at a distance I could hear that unhappy yowl of his, the one that sounds like a police siren.

      It’s music to a dog’s ears. Show me an unhappy cat, and I’ll show you a happy dog.

      Hee hee. Well, this wasn’t what I had expected to find on this mission. It was ten times better. I turned to Drover. “All right, men, stand down.”

      “Sit down?”

      “Stand down.”

      “Stand up?”

      “STAND DOWN!”

      He wilted like…I don’t know what. Like a weed that had been sprayed with poison, I suppose, and beamed me a Look of Tragedy. “You don’t need to yell at me. I hate being yelled at in the morning.”

      “Well, come back after lunch and we’ll try it again.”

      “It makes me feel like such a failure.”

      I heaved a sigh and searched for patience. “Drover, what is so difficult about following a simple order?”

      “I don’t know how to stand down. You never explain anything. All you ever do is yell and screech.”

      “I didn’t screech.”

      “Did too. You screeched right in my left ear.”

      “Which ear?”

      “The right one, and now it’s ringing.”

      “I don’t hear any ringing.”

      “What?”

      “I said, I don’t hear anything.”

      He shook his head and stared at the ground. “I can’t hear anything. I think you blew out my eardrum.”

      “I didn’t blow out your eardrum, but if it will make you feel better, I’m sorry if I screeched.”

      His face bloomed into a smile. “No fooling? You’re not just saying that?”

      “I thought you couldn’t hear.”

      His eyes darted around. “It’s better now.”

      “Oh brother. Are we finished with this?”

      “Yeah, but I still don’t know how to ‘stand down.’”

      “All right, let me explain, and please pay attention.” There was a long moment of silence. “On second thought, we’ve run out of time for questions. Let’s skip it and move along with our business.”

      “Oh goodie! We’re going to chase the cat?”

      “Not so fast. Our mission has changed. Watch this.”

      Don’t leave. You’ll want to hear this next part. Hee hee!

      Chapter Three: The Invisible Trick

      Okay, here’s what I did. I turned a big smile toward the cat. “Hey Pete, chasing turkeys this morning? How’s that working out for you, huh? Gosh, it’s hard to chase turkeys when they don’t run.”

      Boy, you talk about a killer look! Pete’s glare was as cold as ice. I gave Drover a wink and a grin. He seemed a little confused at first, then a light came on deep inside the coal mine of his eyes. “Oh, I get it now. Hee hee. We’re going to tease the cat?”

      “That’s correct. Running cats up a tree is good, wholesome entertainment, but taunting them is even better.”

      “Yeah, and I’ve heard about taunted houses.”

      “Absolutely.” A silence fell over us. “What did you say?”

      “When?”

      “Just now. Something about…honking houses?”

      “Oh yeah. Well, let me think here.” He furrowed his brow and chewed on his lip. “They’re full of ghosts.”

      “No, that’s incorrect. Haunted houses are full of ghosts. Honking houses are full of geese.”

      “How come?”

      “Because geese honk. Ghosts moan. They don’t honk.”

      “I wonder why.”

      “I don’t know.”

      “Yeah, but how do all those geese get into the house?”

      “If you leave the windows open, geese will fly inside. Once there, they begin honking. Is that clear?”

      “Yeah, that helps.”

      “Good. Quit crossing your eyes.”

      The cat was coming toward us, so we had to bring this nonsense to an end. I had no idea how we had gotten onto the subject of geese and ghosts. It’s the sort of thing that happens when I try to carry on a conversation with Drover. Sometimes I wonder…

      Never mind.

      Okay, let’s get organized. Pete had been out in the pasture trying to chase turkeys, remember? But he was too fat and slow to catch one, and had succeeded in making himself look ridiculous. And I was loving it.

      Here he came, wearing a sour expression and sliding along like the snake he truly was. He greeted me in his usual whiney, annoying tone of voice. “Well, well, it’s Hankie the Wonder Dog, and his comical sidekick. What brings you out into the world at such an early hour of the day?”

      “The hour might be early to a cat, but we’ve already put in half a day’s work. We’re here to investigate a disturbance.”

      “Oh really. How exciting. Anyone I might know?”

      “Yes, as a matter of fact, and let’s go straight to the business. Point One, you’re bothering Sally May’s turkeys. Knock it off. If it happens again, you’ll have to deal with the Security Division.”

      His eyes

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