LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Just a wild guess.”

      “Yeah, I saw it last evening and it gave me a terrible scare. It was ten feet long and I thought it was a monster without a tail. But I didn’t want anybody to know. You won’t tell, will you?”

      “Nobody would believe it, Drover. And do you know what else I can’t believe?”

      “The tooth fairy?”

      “No.”

      “The Easter Bunny?”

      “No.”

      “Bone monsters?”

      “If you’ll hush, I’ll tell you.”

      “Well, you asked.”

      “I’m sorry I asked. I can’t believe that we’ve got such a chicken liver in the Security Division. It’s disgraceful.”

      “Well . . . you said you were scared of coons.”

      “I did not say that. I said that five coons were a lot of coons.”

      “Yeah, but not as many as six.”

      “What is your point, Drover? Are you trying to say that I’m just as much of a scaredy-cat as you?”

      “Well . . . if you were, I’d feel better.”

      I pushed myself up to a standing position. “Well, you can forget that. Do you know what I’m fixing to do? I’m going to march into the middle of those coons and give them the thrashing they so richly deserve.”

      “Oh, how brave!”

      “And do you know why? Because you’ve been an inspiration to me, Drover. You are such a weenie and talking with you is so boring, you’ve inspired me to do something really crazy, just to get away from you.”

      “Gosh, thanks, Hank.”

      “By the sheer force of your lousy example, you’ve forced me into doing what is good and right. And if you have any pride left in that stub-tailed carcass of yours, you’ll follow me into battle to fight for Sally May’s garbage barrels.”

      “In a pig’s eye.”

      “What?”

      “I said . . . oh boy, combat. Oh goodie.”

      “That’s better. Now, aren’t you proud of being ashamed of yourself?”

      “I’m kind of confused right now.”

      “You’ll get over it. Are we ready? She’ll be very proud of us, Drover.”

      “Yeah, or she’ll think we did it.”

      “What? Speak up, son, you’re muttering.”

      “I said . . .”

      “Never mind, we’re out of time. We must strike while the kettle is black. I’ll go in the first wave, you come in the second. Give ’em the full load of barking. If we make enough noise, maybe they’ll run. Ready? Oh, and don’t forget to yell, ‘Freeze, turkey!’ That’s very important.”

      “I thought they were coons.”

      I stared into the vacuum of his eyes. “Are you trying to be funny?”

      “No, but you said . . . I thought . . . boy, I sure get confused.”

      “Never mind, Drover. Just follow orders, and remember that this one is for Sally May.”

      “Yeah, but if the coons run off and she finds us . . .”

      “Silence. Let’s move out. Good luck, soldier, and break a leg.”

      “I’ve already got one bad leg. It’s killing me.”

      I slipped forward on paws that made not a sound, paws that had been trained for commando work and silent missions and so forth. Twenty yards out, I could see the coons shooting baskets with a bean can, tossing newspapers into the air, spreading ugly garbage for the sheer meanness of it. My sense of outrageous anger was growing by the second. Those guys would pay for this.

      Ten yards out, we emerged from the cover of the chinaberry grove, and for the first time, the rioting coons realized that they were surrounded. Ha! You should have seen the shock and surprise on their faces. This would be a piece of cake.

      I gave the order to attack and went zooming into the middle of them, yelling “Charge, bonzai!” at the top of my lungs. Drover brought up the Second Wave, and he was yipping and squeaking. Do you know what he was yipping and squeaking? “Frozen turkey, frozen turkey!”

      Oh brother. I was tempted to call off the attack and give him a scolding right there on the spot, but there wasn’t time. What kind of brain can take the command “Freeze, turkey!” and turn it into “Frozen turkey”? Drover’s brain, and there is nothing more to be said.

      And besides, I had five coons to whip.

      I went charging right into the middle of them. I could see their faces now. Those guys were . . . uh . . . growling and humping their backs, as coons often do when they . . . and several of those guys were pretty big . . . real big and . . . good grief, they were coming out after me!

      I went to Full Air Brakes on all four paws, slid to a stop, and then executed a quick Reverse Spin. I hit Full Power on all engines, spun my paws in the dirt, slammed into Drover, and kept truckin’.

      “Drover, we’re going to Plan B!”

      “I didn’t know we had a Plan B.”

      “We do now. It’s called Total Disarray and Run for Your Life!”

      “Oh my leg!”

      Yipes, one of the coons jumped me from behind. He was chewing on my ears and the back of my neck. It hurt! I tried to buck, I ran in circles, I leaped into the air. The coon hung on and continued meat-grinding my ears. I saw a tree up ahead. Maybe if I rammed the tree at full speed, it would dislodge my head and neck from the rest of my . . . BONK! . . . red checkers and fireworks sprayed brilliant colors behind my eyes. I found myself stumbling around the tree on legs made of rubber. I became aware of a dull throbbing pain which seemed to be coming from a lump the size of a biscuit on the top of my head.

      But you know what? It worked, and I mean worked like a charm. Not only had I shucked off the coon, but all of them were scampering away into the morning gloom. What a deal! I mean, sure, coons tend to disappear at the first light of day, but the main reason they were fleeing in terror was that they had just seen the Head of Ranch Security ram a huge tree and break it in half.

      No kidding, broke that tree completely in half, and we’re talking about a full-grown chinaberry with a trunk the size of telephone pole. Have I ever mentioned that my name in Coyote Language is “Mump-Wump-Hoosegow”? That means “Dog Who Breaks Trees in Half.” Yes siree, and that’s why all the coyotes on this outfit RUN when they see me coming.

      And so did those ruffian coons. You think they wanted to mess with a dog who tears down trees? Heck no. They ran, fellers, and we’re talking about running for their lives.

      I sent them packing with a withering barrage of barking. “And let that be a lesson to you, and the next time you mess around with Sally May’s gar­bage barrels, I’ll show you some serious tree trashing!”

      Pretty impressive, huh? You bet it was. I got ’em told, and then I turned and marched back to the barrels to, well, lay my mark on them and claim them as my own. When Sally May showed up, I wanted her to see, with her very own eyes, that I had recaptured her barrels and returned them to the ranch inventory.

      I was in the process of laying a good strong mark on one of the barrels when an odd sound reached my ears. They leaped to Full Alert Position, swiveled around, and homed in on the sound. It was a kind of buzzing noise, and it seemed to be coming

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