//------------------------------// // Arc 1: R&R and the squirrelly raccoon. // Story: Hank the Cowdog: The Case of the Displaced Dog // by KarmaSentinal //------------------------------// Have you ever had one of those days where you found yourself completely unresponsive  to the world around? No? Well I’ll give you the run down real quick. Imagine the feeling of finding perhaps the biggest bag of candy ever gathered in one place and it's all for you. Next, you end up downing all of its sugary goodness with some aged water from the puddle next to the gas tanks. You still there? Good. By now the contents of your stomach should be mixing nicely, which after a moment or two you should now be expelling all of it (preferably somewhere out of the way) and once finished you are forced to patrol all of the pastures for the next 24 hrs before collapsing somewhere that wasn’t a gummy sack. Dead to the world wouldn’t be the phrase I’d use but more like having the sun rise earlier than normal and then constantly beaming its rays on my eyes. In other words it’s annoying and I feel very sick. Still, even in this state I knew time was moving, but it didn’t matter. Whether time moved or remained still, it didn’t matter unless there was something worth noting during that span but when you’re caught in the drifting weightlessness of the moonless night than little else was important except for what was to come the next day. Wow, I should be a writer. With his out of body experience coming to an end, I felt the feelings that could only be described as pain. I tried moving my legs, and learned it was most definitely pain I was feeling. The good news is I’m alive which means I may still as of yet collect my retirement check, but now I’m back to the start of this circle. This isn’t the ranch so where is it? But most of all, just who in the world found me and where am I? Whatever I’m laying on was certainly no gummy sack because the itching texture was missing for starters and replaced with some foreign material unlike anything I ever felt before. If the feeling I was currently feeling was to be believed then this mysterious gummy sack replacement was the softest invention ever to bless any ranch! My body was unresponsive and for a bit that didn’t bother me so much if it meant I could continue to blissfully lay here undisturbed. Thankfully I’m a hardened cowdog and thought of forever laying here greatly worried me. A dog born and tempered by the comforts of life would have continued to lay here with no cares in the world, content to let life do with them as it pleased. Drover came to mind, but I have to give that runt a little credit.. he would at least give the room a quick look over before making himself scarce. After all, life can’t get you if you’re hiding right? “I can’t believe I’m taking a page from Drover.” I thought aloud, just to help reinforce the fact this was really happening. First thing first, I needed to identify my surroundings, establish my location, gather supplies,  and escape(not in that order mind you). I’m not that dumb to expect a perfect escape on the first try, so to throw off any potential pursuers I’m going to do none of the above and just stay right here until I’m better. They’ll never expect an escape like this! “So… who’s Drover? Oh and I’m happy to see you finally woke up or achieve some sort peaceful meditative trance.” Uh? The high pitched, fast paced voice was a new one. With such a wide arrange of characters living on the ranch, including the various others I’ve met in my life I can honestly say none came close to hurting my ears. Two came very close but one was just a naive buzzard who questioned too many things and the other a bird dog that made Drover look like me in comparison. None this mattered though with my whole body out of commission at the moment except for my ears which could just be malfunctioning and just made up that silly voice. I almost responded but caught myself once I realized it would only bring that noise back and so I settled for ignoring it in favor of adjusting my plan of escape. With the possibility of a  guard watching over me not completely confirmed but not totally dismissed either, it left the desire to escape undetected wanning. I need to get back home fast and while I’m thankful for..this attention given to me something in my gut tells me I won’t like it here and so far my gut has been mostly right. That and all of this- the exhaustion, lost of direction, Brahman, comfy place to sleep indoors of all things didn’t really sit too well with me. Than again if I left now than that would mean more walking and my tenderized paws screamed at the thought. No matter how I looked at it the odds were stacked against me, and regrettably I gave in and relaxed my wind muscles. Right now I could only continue to lay in between this really comfy padding and blanket until I was strong enough to resume my journey, or talk to someone about using a phone to call up Slim since he likely drive over to get. Something just landed near me...uh bugger. I hesitantly cracked open my eyes to avoid detection in case the stranger was hostile and to my mild surprise found myself covered in darkness. Not the spiritual mumbo jumbo that crazy barn owl likes to speak either but actual nighttime darkness. This was both good and bad for it meant that there was a chance it was still the same day and I could be home sooner but bad because I’m not very keen with fighting at night. Several times I’ve found myself in such a scrap( and always pulled through) but while prevailing in the end left myself battered and bruised. What would the ranch do if the coyotes invaded or the cows stampede while I was incapacitated? A simple question I knew the answer to already but never wanted to discover in the flesh, and so resumed my carefully sweep of the house looking for th... “Hello? You awake mutt?” Ok, that’s it. There comes a time in a dog’s life where he’ll be exposed to some cases of mistreatment and verbal abuse at the cost of a shoe being thrown followed by some yelling or yelling first and then the shoe. But that's a small price we pay for the peace of mind that we did our job and while it may never be noticed, it was the right thing to do. So to hear that word being so casually used in a sentence directed at me was enough to break the straws on my back. Later I would learn he would spread lies and slander in an attempt to ruin my good name, claiming I’m a mutt to stupid to understand anything. Well all I have to say is takes one to know one. Ha!  “Who you calling a mutt.. att! I was expertly retorting until I decided to back up my words with body language. The kind of body language that requires you to move your bruised and languished body in order to make your threat more believable and with a slight expression of discomfort pulling my jaw back, I ‘retired’ to my makeshift bed once more. With my current state clearly advertised and no way for me to move opted for what I was doing earlier and resumed my assessment of the surroundings only this time looking for something specific. Luckily said creature inadvertently helped me by awarding me with yet another immature remark. “HA, ha! SeewhatImean?HAHA!” What did he say? The speed at which he was mocking me is astounding I’ll give him that but if you’re mocking someone, then make sure the creature being mocked can understand you or else it's lost during the exchange and you end up looking stupid. It’s surprising how many fail at such a simple thing as mud slinging isn’t?     If his chattering annoyed me before, than it wasn’t hard to figure out it still wasn’t doing me any favors. Having had enough of this constantly squealing laughter, I fully opened my eyes in the hopes that if it was going to attack me it would have already. I knew my eyes were opened but it was so dark in here that I honestly thought I’d forgotten to open them; as I scanned whatever I could, I was reminded of being underwater with the empty darkness going on forever before the pale light clouded my vision. I blinked once to clear my sight and to my great surprise found the previous void of a room had actually became slightly visible. The light wasn’t the yellow kind that is commonly seen when the sun sets, but the sickly paleness I would associate with the moon of the night sky. I know I’m just repeating myself here but I can’t help but miss the ranch and my gummy sack, but now I’m starting to ponder a thought truly disturbing. What if I’ve been asleep for longer than one night? What if I’ve been in a coma or hibernation for centuries and little furry critters have gain intelligence and became the dominate species on the planet? What if I’m the last dog! “Nope. None of that has happened. I just saw a dog yesterday. Ohandit'sonlybeenaboutadayortwowhichiswhyIstatedwe’regladyo..Sorry. I talk really, really fast when I forget to think and take my time.” Was I talking to myself and on accident mutter that last bit out loud? “No you didn’t.” “Ok… how are you doing that? I asked starting to believe of the very real possibility of brain slugs in use somewhere. “Doing what?” The voice came once more near me but his time it sounded like it came from above. So with great pai..eh I mean discomfort readjusted myself so that I was laying at a slight angle with the tips of back paws just dangling off some ledge, likely a sofa if I had to guess. From my new resting spot on the unidentified but likely a sofa my line of sight at greatly expanded allowing me to see the area previously just behind my head. Just above the arm of the now confirmed couch I could just make out the two windows where the moonlight at originated from; centered directly between the pair was a single door with a small table on the left hand side. Even further on the left hand side, tucked in the corner was a very large, double drawer dresser with chair strangely parked directly in front of it. How it looked reminded me of Little Alfred, High Loper’s son who was just a head taller than me and would sometimes use chairs or anything he could stand on to reach high places. Could this be a similar case? Maybe. Looking down it was clear enough the floors were wood, with one..no two little carpets scattered about. A small one by the door and a single large carpet placed in the very center of the room and nothing else that could be described as interesting. This truly was the home of cowboy. A simple house for a simple life on the prairie, but normally High Loper and Slim would leave their boots next to the door just by the small table after a long day of work. This wasn’t because of laziness on their parts but for practicality of knowing where they’re at when needed, but here there were no boots and I found this oddity bothersome. Personally I think it's a bit of jealousy on my part, because if I had boots for each of paws I’ll be mighty proud of them and would want to show them off. Granted that’s just me but still I just can’t shake the feeling something doesn’t feel right about.. all of this. I mean it feels like a traditionally normal homestead and yet the air( not the breathable kind) just blows my fur the wrong way. With my apparent free time established, I opted to just give the house another go over to see if I missed anything important and once finish just likely repeat the process until something noteworthy appears or just happens. “You’re a strange mutt.. I mean a strange dog. Sorry about the name calling and all of that it’s just thatwerarelyevergetanyvisitorsherean...and most of the time I’m by myself as Mr. Breaburn is out in the orchard. So, having someone around to talk to is a very welcomed change of pace.” That pressure in the back of my mind was building once more as I tried pinpoint the location of my clearly not imaginative roommate. From the the edges of my remaining sanity, just barely light lighter than the rest of the surrounding darkness I noticed a small shape moving along the couch’s back. Watching me as I watched it, two little soulless eyes stayed focused as it moved toward the end of the couch before jumping on the arm rest right in front of me. Now watching me with the moonlight exposing it, I took brief look before every clicked: the beady little eyes, small grabby hands, large front teeth, a long bushy tail, and a fur color to match the very night. It all made sense. “YOU’RE A BABY EDDY!” “A what?” it asked back “You’re a raccoon, a baby raccoon. How do you not know this? I asked as I watched the little guy ponder my declaration of the truth. I almost feel bad now for asking such a question when he did say most of his time is spent alone so maybe he likely didn’t know? Whatever the answer, my claim shocked for he jolted back almost falling off the couch. “YOUBLOODYMUTT!I’MASQUIRRELYOURAGGEDYBLINDMUTT.” Now, I know the difference between a squirrel and a raccoon and while I fully understand why he would think that, he’s clearly wrong. A squirrel is a smaller, more dastardly cousin of a raccoon except for the small fact they live in trees, and eat acorns. This little guy before me wasn’t living in a tree but a home made from trees and so far I’ve yet to see him eat any acorns either. Clearly he was suffering from an extreme case of denial to the point he’s actually not only portraying himself as another species but is even adopting their mannerisms the poor little guy. Yet who could blame him? It’s easy to say you’ll know who you are but he has admitted to living here alone for most of his time and with no one to tell him who or what he is left him scrambling to find an answer and sadly he guessed wrong. Even just laying here I could tell he was a raccoon, and not a squirrel but that did little to prevent him from trying to act like one. He even threw in those little chips and clatters of teeth in between expressions just for good measure. This confused individual was indeed mad but he’s also my only source of information and link to the outside; plus his standing with the owner of this homestead made it all the more important to remain in his good graces if I wanted to get home in a timely manner. So, if I must talk and play along with this confused creature of the night and possibly take him under my paw than by golly I’ll help the little guy out! First order of business, I need to help him confront his denial and help me accept the truth before we can proceed. If he can’t even face the facts and understand he’s not a squirrel but a raccoon than anything he tells me will have to be treated as false until otherwise proven. I’ll have to tread carefully to avoid sending him over the edge, but I really can’t wait too long either. Than again mother always said honesty is the best policy. “I want to say I understand this whole life altering ordeal, but I don’t. So, all I can say is just square your back some and accept the fact you’re just confused.” At first there was silence as I thought he was honestly considering my words but sadly that wasn’t so. He didn’t so much as move an inch before suddenly bouncing off the arm rest and onto the cushion right next to my muzzle with a loud creak. The noise surprised both of us for he quickly straightened out his back and began scanning the large room for the origin of said noise. I watched curiously because he truly seemed worried and it would give me a better understanding just how far gone he may be.  His little head jumped from location to location, sometimes turning his entire body in order to keep up with his ever changing mind but it was once he decided to move back to the arm rest we heard the low pitch creak once again. We both froze together and waited for it to happen again but just like before we hear nothing. The squirrelly raccoon decide to move for the arm rest once more and just like before the creaking of floorboards came with it. He had reached near the center of the cushion and I watched in fright as it began sinking in, taking the little guy with it. I was about to abandon all regard for my own safety( while ignoring all of the pain) and lunge into that quickly forming sinkhole to rescue him, but before any of the muscles in my heavy legs could protest here came the furball leaping out and landing on the arm rest! He paused to gather his balance and then turned down to look at me and the still indented seat cushion. “Whoa, I kinda guessed Mr. Breaburn was stress eating more but I didn’t think he’ll gain any weight with all the field work and training for the rodeo.” That got my attention. “There’s a rodeo coming up?” I asked trying to contain my excitement. I’ve always enjoyed the idea of taking normal ranch work and turning it into a competition, but every time the rodeo would hit town I ended being left behind. Heck, Slim and Loper every time took two of the horses to accompany them but they couldn’t take me along as well? To my happiness he nodded excitedly as well. “ YES, THERE IS! I do enjoy the whole frenzy the townsfolk get in as it draws near..” then he deflated. “But there likely won’t be one this year.” I could almost hear the tears in his voice and it made my ears welt right along with him. He looked up and I swore he could understand everything I was currently experiencing because he started answering the question I was trying to come up with.  “Mr. Braeburn is out for the night, a town meeting is being held in regards to the sudden rise in train holdups.” he stopped when he heard my low growl before continuing. “The trains are how most of the competitors and supplies for the rodeo arrive but this sudden appearance and rise in robberies, fewer trains have been risk traveling this way. In fact the last one that did pull into the station was suppose to deliver our mail but he to had been held up; a request was sent for a guard escort but so far we’ve heard nothing.” “Is there something I could do?” I had to ask after hearing such a sad tale. From his viewpoint on the armrest, he grasped the bottom of chin with one of his paws as he looked over my depressing form. “Unless you have a way to summon the guard I don’t really see how especially in your condition.” What did he mean by ‘the guard’? While his tale was indeed sad, some of it didn’t really make any sense mostly the bit with train robberies. It almost sounds like one of them old west stories Little Alfred would tell me and Drover before having us help him ‘reenact’ some with cattle rustling, bank robberies,  forming posses, and the classic shoutout. Still, I can’t lay here accepting their hospitality and not do something for them in return. “I’m tougher than I like little Eddy, I’m Head of Ranch Security on my ranch and I’ve done a good job too. I stopped a coyote invasion..twice!” This little statement was the exact thing he needed to hear, for he returned to his earlier thinking pose. “Hmmm. Perhaps you could help us but that isn’t for me to decide.” He turned his back to me so he could look out one of the windows.” It’s late mutt, I’ll see you in the morning.” Before I could call out in response, he had leaped from the armrest and onto the ground. I didn’t see where he went but I hear the little clattering of nails on wood for a moment before it phased into the darkness, leaving me alone with my thoughts for the rest of the night.