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      And baldheaded peckerwoods, did I mention them? They tap on trees with their beaks. That would give me a headache.

      Where was I? Oh yes. Loper’s pickup was parked beside the gas tanks. He’d already hooked up the gooseneck trailer and was filling the pickup with gas.

      I noticed a certain edge of tension in the air, which is common around here when someone is trying to meet a deadline or get away for a trip. Loper had been looking forward to this trip for a long time, and no doubt he was running behind schedule.

      It happens every time.

      Slim arrived in his pickup and pulled up beside the gas tanks. He shut off the motor and gave Loper a grin. “Mornin’. How’s it going?”

      Loper was not wearing a happy face. “Typical. The phone started ringing at seven o’clock. The pressure pump tripped the circuit breaker again. That’s the third time in two days. Alfred spilled a full glass of milk at breakfast. It went in my lap and I had to change pants.

      “I can’t find my good heeling rope. The stock trailer had a flat tire. The pickup was out of gas. I walked into the bathroom to brush my teeth and caught Molly scrubbing the pot with my toothbrush.

      “Just a typical day. We’re running thirty min­utes late and quite a few dollars short, and you need to saddle both our horses. Then, unless lightning strikes, we might be ready to leave.”

      Slim got out of the pickup and headed for the saddle lot in that slow walk of his. Loper watched him for a moment and shook his head. “That’s the slowest human being I ever met. I’d like to see him in a burning house some time. I’ll bet he’d walk just like that.

      “Hey!” he yelled at Slim. “Hurry up, first chance you get! If we don’t get on the road, they’ll have the first pasture gathered.” Slim lifted one hand in the air and continued slouching along at exactly the same pace. Loper grumbled and muttered. “Slowest human I ever saw.”

      There didn’t seem to be much excitement at the gas tanks, so I made my way up the hill to the yard gate. Drover followed. It was morning, after all, and Loper had mentioned something about “breakfast.” Over the years, I had noticed that breakfast scraps most often occurred in the morning, after breakfast, and that was definitely worth checking out.

      We have two good reasons for checking out the scrap situation. The first is that scraps are delicious, especially breakfast scraps which might include juicy fatty ends of bacon. The second reason is that we dogs feel some obligation to . . .

      How can I put this so that it doesn’t sound tacky? We dogs recognize that Pete the Barncat gets very little exercise and, therefore, should not be eating certain foods, particularly those that are high in . . . well, fat and juice, such as juicy fatty ends of bacon.

      Pete is such a natural glutton that he can’t impose discipline upon his eating patterns and he needs friends to, uh, help him. We accept that as part of our job, helping Pete choose only those food groups that are good for his health, such as corncobs, brussels sprouts, and burnt toast.

      I’m told that burnt toast is the best thing in the world for cats to eat—makes their coat shine and keeps ’em trim and thin.

      Ho! Guess

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