LITMIR.BIZ

      I left him lying in the shade. Just imagine, a dog that didn’t care about the lady of the house, the very lady who fed us scraps! What was the world coming to?

      Oh well. I tried to forget the sorry state of the world and made my way down the dusty dog trail to the yard gate. I could feel the sun baking the hairs on my back. My mouth was parched and dry.

      But in spite of it all, I marched to the gate, sat down in front of Sally May, and launched myself into the Howdy Program—switched the tail circuits over to Broad Caring Sweeps, went to Bright Lights on the eyes, and squeezed up a smile of Utter Sincerity.

      “Why, Sally May! I see you’ve come out of the house and you’re watering your shrubberies. I haven’t seen you in several hours and I just wanted you to know how deeply I care about . . .”

      What a pack of lies! I couldn’t go on with it. I flopped down on the ground. The Caring Wags came to a sudden stop. The Bright Lights went out in my eyes, and I found myself staring at the dusty ground.

      Who could care about anything in this heat? I had thought that I could pull it off, that all my years of training and discipline would get me through the routine, but the awful heat had dragged me down.

      I turned a pair of glazed eyes toward Sally May. She saw me and smiled. “Hello, Hank. It’s hot, isn’t it?”

      Yes ma’am, it was hot. Furthermore, I didn’t give a rip about . . .

      I noticed a cool breeze blowing across the yard and into my face. It felt good . . . wonderful. At last, something cool and refreshing! It was the water, see, the wind blowing across the spray of Sally May’s water. And then I noticed that everything inside the fence was GREEN—as green and refreshing as green refreshing greenery.

      Wow!

      I mean, the whole world was baked to a crisp and shriveled up in the heat, but that little oasis in Sally May’s yard . . .

      Hmmmm.

      I, uh, returned to the control room of my mind and began reprogramming the program: up on all-fours, Broad Caring Wags, Bright Lights in the eyes, big cowdog smile . . .

      I stood up and smiled. “Why, Sally May, how nice to see you again! I’m here to deliver a very special message and to let you know that, well, I care DEEPLY about your life. No kidding. How are the children? How’s your day been going?”

      At this point, I hooked my front paws over the top of the fence and mushed on with my presentation. “Oh, and by the way, I was just noticing your yard—admiring it, actually. It’s so . . . well, cool and damp and fresh, and I was wondering . . .”

      You might find this part hard to believe, but here goes. I slithered myself over the fence and oozed down into the cool, green refreshingness of the grass. Pretty amazing, huh? You bet. And even more amazing was that I did it with Maximum Stealth, so quietly and cunningly that she didn’t even notice.

      Heh heh.

      Which meant that . . . well, she would probably think that I’d been there all the time. No invasion of her precious yard by dogs, no big deal. We were just there, she and I, chatting and laughing about our various lives and sharing precious moments of . . . something. Preciousness.

      And caring about each other. That was the most impointant pork. We cared deeply about each other’s lives.

      Once inside the yard, I resumed my presentation. “Sally May, I can hardly express how deeply and sincerely I admire you for . . . well, for all the things you do. There are so many things a dog can admire in you that I’m . . . well, ha ha, who could list them all?”

      Was it selling? I studied her carefully. It was hard to tell. Slowly, very slowly, her gaze swung around and locked on me. I swallowed hard. The moment of truth had arrived.

      She said, “You’re in my yard.”

      Uh...yes, that was true.

      I waited for more, but that’s all she said. Her gaze returned to the flower beds, and I was left to desiphon the meaning of her words. See, I knew she had some strong opinions about Dogs in the Yard (she didn’t allow it), yet there I was in her yard and . . . well, she hadn’t screeched or chased me with a broom or anything.

      This seemed pretty strong proof that my program was working. Her heart was beginning to soften and I needed to press on with my presentation. I had already picked out the spot where I wanted to . . . well, spend some time: the iris patch on the north side of the house, which appeared to be the very coolest spot on the ranch—out of the sun, out of the dusty wind, great location.

      Oh, and it also happened to be the favorite loafing spot of Pete the Barncat, which made it even more inviting. (Of course, Pete would have to vacate the property when I took it over.)

      But I didn’t dare make my move to the iris patch, not yet. That would be too sudden, too abrupt. Before I moved into the iris patch, so to speak, I needed to do a little more . . . how can I say this? A little more “diplomatic work” with Sally May.

      Charm her. Win her heart. Convince her that I belonged in her yard.

      I switched all systems over to Heavy Charm and went back to work. Here’s the message I beamed to her:

      “Sally May, words and

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