Hank the Cowdog: The Case of the Displaced Dog

by KarmaSentinal

Arc 1: Did I ever tell you I hate horses?

The next day came and went without me once more or so I was told making it almost two whole days of sleeping on the job. Never once until now have I slacked off so much in a single span of time; there was always something that needed to be done, or needed my undivided attention for one reason or another.

All of this worrying is wearing on my mind, but regretfully there was little that could be done about it at the moment.

Judging from the lighting I would guess it was early afternoon, and besides a small bowl of food and water by the door there wasn’t any signs of my mysterious caretaker or companion from last night. Luckily though the burning numbness and fatigue that had plugged me before was all but gone, leaving a stiff reminder to take it easy.

So, what’s a dog to do when he can barely move and can’t work?

Simple. He.. you know, I honestly don’t have the foggiest clue. I’ve mentioned it before that Drover is the experienced one when it comes to the ability to do nothing, and I’ll even go on a limb and say the coyote brothers Rip and Snort were a very close second. In fact, I’m surrounded by all of these “professionals” and I still can’t grasp how you don't do anything and enjoy it.

I’ve tried staring at the opposite end of the couch before flipping over to stare at even more of the couch in the hopes of finding what the appeal was only to discover my eyes were starting to hurt. Seriously! How can anyone stand looking at drying paint let alone a couch for more than a second?

Certainly one immune to the concepts of boredom and its nulling effects on the mind.

Understanding this notion brought me once more back to the present and with it the ever conclusion that unless someone were to suddenly burst through that door and whisk me away this very moment, I wasn’t going to find anything worth doing. To add to my misery was the fact that the curtains hanging above the single large window were left drawn.

I could see the very day pasting me by and I couldn’t a thing to stop it!

To lay idle as the world passed me by was hard enough but to be unable to do anything to correct this unjustified treatment was the gravy on the kibbles. Granted from this spot I could still see part of the sky but still what’s a dog to do?

That was the question I needed to answer. In the past most problems were either so simple in nature or were small enough, I could handle it on my own quickly and continue the day without any noticeable loss of time. Sadly my life an’t that easy anymore.

When it comes to its normal functions I’m the champ at maintaining a hard working and well oiled pickup, but it didn’t mean I was a miracle working. How did the old saying go? What didn’t put you under makes you lucky.. or was it smarter? Either way the point is you’re taking something away from the experience and mine was I’m never seeing Madame Moonshine again!

The call of the wild (or the relatively contained wild) was calling me and by golly I was going to answer it.

With a possible goal in mind and a motivation for reaching it, I began calming my mind in order to start formulating a plan. This process requires the processor to take a step back and.. well process. It’s a common method used by many people( mostly by the tax collectors’) in a system meant to take in every bit of available information and use it to paint a picture.

Not literally painting a picture mind you but by using all the data collected, you could use it to get an idea or a picture of whatever you’re trying to create. It’s a very useful tactic when you’re lacking concrete information or need a base to build upon; isn’t doing your taxes just wonderful?

Anyway, with all of this talk of taxes and metaphorical phantom numbers and I started with the basics. First, I’m not at the ranch which is a given just by looking around the room. Second, besides my mad companion from last night and the mention of his owner, I’ve yet to see any evidence that any others live here. Third, the ranch is a ranch out in middle of good old Texas country, not a farm. Yes, I knew all of this through the powers of observation( by looking out the window) I can confidently say I’m in a different part of Texas.

My wanderings before waking up here confirm this theory but how far did they move to cause such a major change in landscape? Perhaps the farmers here watered their lawn just a bit more? Who knows but it does alter my plans enough since I don’t know where the ranch is now. A matter that greatly hindered not only my plan of escape but my ability to do my job and that bristled my fur.

Needing to take my mind off of this unfortunate realization, I went through the motions of my everyday routine and started stretching my back and legs. There were a few pops here and there further reminding me of my latest adventure and not my age; I may be older than Drover but that doesn’t mean nothin.

A few pops and joint pain didn’t mean my body was old does it?

Does a car get scrapped when the engine doesn’t start? No. It gets kicked and yelled at before someone experienced comes by and fixes it. Let me just add that I feel like I’ve been kicked and don’t want to be here when the yelling starts. I let the aches and tender muscles calm before restarting the entire routine once more and was greatly rewarded for my perseverance with the gratifying sound a single pop originating from my back. Oh I felt like a new gummysack!

With the engine started and on idle, I continued processing my situation once more. That oh so good pop did loosened my joints and muscles but that was just the start. First, I started my third round of stretching by flexing all four paws and legs with the back two remaining still and saying they did. Second, I further increased this process by going beyond the norm and even wiggled my paws..claws.. toes? I’m not sure what they’re called actually but the point is those digits got stretched.

There were no pops this time which translated into no pain. A small blessing and one I wouldn’t scuff.

Next, came the moment I’ve been dreading which involved trying get up. Till now I had been resting mostly.. well entirely on my sides and frankly they were getting a little sore. Even with the comfort provided by this here couch, the aches and pains of being confined( mostly boredom) had taken their toll on me. Thus I could no longer partake in this luxurious couch if I wanted a speedy recovery. In the past.. last night.. I remember having some difficulty just flipping myself over but now I was having trouble making myself want to move!

Nothing had changed from last night till now with the exception of waking up. Now, not to toot my own horn but I am a remarkably fast healer and wouldn’t be surprised if I was just tired from the process. But that wasn’t likely since it took me far longer to heal my leg when that one-eye stallion broke it. What could be so different?

While I pondered this enigma, I struggled to rise just enough to change sides; the effort left me winded but once I had managed to flip the rest of me over I just gave in and dropped like a rock in water. Oh this couch was so comfy. A literal cloud on earth delicately collected and molded so that I may…

Wait a minute.

I halted all not vital calculations and functions and quickly diverted it to this increasingly growing thought that had entered my mind. An idea that to most sounded random and stupid but one that if I followed this kibble trail closely I could very well prove that nothing was beyond belief.

This couch for the last two days had been assigned to me as my bed so that I may recover in peace, but is that all it was meant for?

The kibble trail was coming to an end and it was leading me to the food bowl. This couch while comfortable was making me lazy and that was unacceptable. It was all becoming so clear that I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner! My saviors had no intention of letting me return to the ranch let alone my job, but instead were trying to domesticate me!

Don’t you see it?

They come in acting all nice and caring by giving me anything(well a couch) to make my recover as pleasant as possible. By giving me an easy life with all of the comforts and little worries I would continually lower my guard to the point that when it came time to leave I wouldn’t to go. I would willing give up my independence and career just to stay. Never before have I encountered such a diabolical scheme!

Yet, in some strange way I respected this genius; showing up to save the day while offering an easy life and suddenly bam! You’ve become Plato the bird dog, unable to understand not only the simplest of common sense but nothing beyond the boundaries of a house fence. This was worst than I first thought.

I tried once more to prop myself up from this really comfortable couch turned bed turned into brainwashing conspiracy, and as before found myself unable to escape its rooted temptation.

Now that I was actively fighting its embrace did the full reality of my situation become clear; if the raccoon squirrel’s words were to be believed than I’ve been sleeping on this couch for two full days! Two full days under its mind altering effects with possible side effects! Oh this was bad.

Two full days of rest and I still felt the full weight of exhaustion nipping at my calves.. I think this couch is zapping my strength to feed its brainwashing agenda!

By the old pick up in the barn this plot was even more devious than previously thought of before. Learning your saviors were little more than dog catchers with houses using the old TLC trick to keep you weak was heartbreaking. I had truly believed them to be kind, and caring citizens helping a hard working cowdog in need but clearly that wasn’t the case. It just goes to show you can’t trust anyone anymore else they turn out to be dogcatchers trying to get ah!

Scanning the room for anything that could either aid me in my escape or hinder it was the first thing I needed to know. It would be unwise to execute my grand escape plan only to be foiled because I didn’t count on the lack of a doggie door. Which there wasn’t one!

Comparing my current view with the hazy one from last night, I noted nothing new was added or had changed since the last time. The window was still a window: the dresser was still by the window, the door still closed, the couch still comfy and the lack of work boots by the door. A shame really since I was hoping the door would have been left cracked or at least ajared; nothing much, just enough for..say a purebred cowdog to slip through. Speaking of the window it was now taunting me with its glimpses of the warm outdoor sun and heated air, which didn’t amuse me.

A disappointment but nothing in life was just given to you freely with the one exception being a flying shoe.

I wasn’t getting anywhere by sitting here waiting for something to happen. I had to take a chance right now while I’m still alone and have some energy left. The problem is I felt too exhausted to get up, but the longer I remained meant the weaker I became; I knew what had to be done whether or not I wanted to do it.

Closing my eyes in preparation was key because it closed you off to the world and allowed the mind to purge itself of unneeded baggage. This in itself is a feat, one I’ve taught myself in order to not only think better but clear my head after a day on the job. The idea is that by ridding yourself of distractions you can focus more brain power into anything you need at the present time, thus improving your overall results.

I was doing something different this time; the hope is that if I could temporarily forget about the fatigue, than perhaps I could trick my body into thinking it was alright. There wasn’t any guarantee it would work but what did I have to lose besides my job and freedom.. ok so I did have a lot to lose.

With my mind now closely related to the absorbency of a sea sponge, I did one last routine system check which usually involved flexing my legs and paws. Yep, they’re still moving but barely. This could mean one of two things, that either my plan was starting to work and was tricking my body into thinking that it's healed or the couch had further zapped my energy. The both possibilities are bad but the first offered me the greatest chance of escape, but regardless it meant I had to act now.

Using nothing but sheer willpower to fuel my body, I threw all of it into my side. The force from this was enough to lift me up onto my back, and roll me onto my other side. As soon as I felt the couch I quickly tapped into what was left of my depleted energy and using the momentum bounced myself off my side and reversed the flip. This action promptly reversed my direction in a complete 180, but this time right before I landed on my other side I reversed the direction again and again. Because of this I was rolling side to side faster and faster as the stored energy continually built up until something in my gut told me it was time to release it.

It happened so fast that I couldn’t recall every detail; one moment I was but a turtle on his back and then suddenly I”m mimicking Littler Alfred rolling down a small hill. Except that hill was a couch and rolling down hill meant rolling off the edge of said couch.

In a related note, the welp produced was louder than the pain currently afflicting me but not by much.

I had landed on my back, causing a train track of semi load pops to be heard that while painful left me feeling in a way refreshed; a feeling I could only compare to scratching an itch that was previously unattainable. Sure there was a moment of fear as I fought for air but that quickly became less important once a major discovery was made.. well discovered. Yes, I was currently on my back impersonating a fish out of water, but the fatigue that plagued me was finally gone.

Haha! I was right and now that I’m free from that diabolical cloud called a couch, I could move forward with my escape.

With my energy returning to me and only partially fueled by the bruise spreading pain, I grunted but had managed right myself onto all fours. I didn’t waste anytime checking the damage report instead choosing to make a beeline for the only door in this single.. wait..two bedroom shack. I didn’t notice the other room behind the couch, but a lack of door and any smells were enough to disinterest me.

Actually, now that I’m taking in this “fine” air it..well certainly has that rancher’s taste. Now trust me when I say I know what a ranch should smell like after living and patrolling one for most of my life; this little home smells like someone lost their mind and actually lets the animal herds inside!

Now in some crazy way of thinking this could make watching over them a heck of alot easier, but it completely undermines the value of my position. Not only do my captors domesticate honest, good working cowdogs into brainless Bird Dogs but they’re also taking many poor dumb animals and...

You know, I don’t know why anyone would want such troublesome company in their house but the point is now their trying to take away the one thing that gives me reason to keep going. The situation is continuously changing for the worst. Even more so than it already had just moments before.

Suddenly, I no longer felt welcomed here. Strange uh?

The desire and urgency to leave came burning back in full force to the point I swear it even signed my paws! Upon the this realization of my predicament I did the only sensible thing in a surreal situation and took another page right from Drover’s book: I pan.. I mean I deployed Tactic Numero 1857-2A. Yep, you heard me right. I deployed Tactic Numero 1857-2A and it was used to terrifying results.

I started whimpering and yelping in the most undignified manner that if High Loper or even Drover were to have walked in right now, I would sooner hang up my badge and join the circus than live with the embarrassment. I won’t go into exact details of this dangerous procedure, but I will say it's not for the faint of heart.

It was in the midst of this terrifying maneuver that multiple loud thumps from outside alerted me that my tactic had worked. To hear the sounds of life other than my own both thrilled and unnerved me for whatever was coming was likely in cahoots with my captors. They could even be more of their past victims coming to.. *gulp*.. housebreak me.

I goofed. Clearly my imitation of Drover’s war dance( and not a panic attack) was flawed and instead of scaring off any would be dangers instead had called them right to me! When I get back, me and Drover are going to have a very long talk about the dangers of miscommunication and his poor choice of naming procedures. Thinking quickly I ceased my ‘war dance’ and bolted for the side of the door, right next to the door handle. The hope is that it or they would be so distracted by my earlier display that when they came for me I would rush by them when the door was open and BAM! I would be rolling in that sweet tasting freedom and it will be my only companion for the rest of my journey back home.

No more raccoons and cloud couches for me!

I felt bad for thinking, let alone planning such an escape given this person took me in and so far was nurturing me back to health and this was how I was thanking them? Well yes, they shouldn’t be brainwashing me in the first place! When you throw in that strength zapping couch and the very confused squirrel than all the anxieties of leaving were dust in the wind.

The thumps had grown in volume and frequency to the point I could safely say they were four legged… two four legged animals coming my way. Horses perhaps, but they didn’t sound like the ones back home. Strange. They were coming by horseback which meant my escape plan just got even more dangerous! As thumps and clops grew louder, I’ll admit it made me even more nervous. I could hear them talking through the wooden door and my shivering teeth, but their conversation was too muffled to make anything out.

I furthered flatten myself against the wall out of concern( not fear) that I may be sticking out too much. I began running a program I had dubbed “HOLY STOCK TANKS! ME FIRST!” which involves me to take up a pouncing stance while making sure all four legs were wound and ready to spring at a moment's notice.

By assuming and holding this stance, I’m making sure that once the door opened I’ll be long gone before they knew it. A simple tactic that has saved my tail so many times that I likely wouldn't be here right now, instead under the stock tanks praying for us all as Drover assumed my position. The thought alone fueled my determination to escape.

“...ght be dangerous.”

“How... a dog…?”

I was right. There were coming by horseback and one was female! How they know it was against my code to not harm a woman I would never know but golly they were good.

I cocked my ears back as a metallic click caught my attention. The door in front of me began stirring, the fairly new wood cracked as it pushed inward as if someone was pressing up against it. The handle jiggled. This was it. I raised my rump high into the air as I consolidated every last ounce of energy into my rear legs, readying them to launch once that door opened. The pair of voices had lowered in volume almost like they were whispering but that didn’t matter as the familiar sound of a door unlocking garnered my full attention. I could feel the adrenaline speeding down along every strand of fur, practically pulsing with anticipation for…

There it is!

Let me tell you, the moment that handle came down I was gone. Dust in the wind so to say. Records were shattered and ladies cried at the sight of the handsome blur! Yes, I was fast and gone until I full on smacked into the very solid wooden door that had remained close.

“Dang it! Miss Jubilee quick! Go and fetch Doc Quick Patch will you?”

I heard one of them shout as I met the hard floor yet again. During my walk along the edge of consciousness and sweet dreams I glanced up to find the reason for my failure- two separate doors instead of one! I kid you not this door could open from the top while the bottom remained closed. Who builds a door like this let alone uses one? To add to my embarrassment was what I presumed to be the owner’s horse peering down at me over the lower door.

Our eyes locked and suddenly I felt a chill parading down my spine for there, nestled in his eyes were something I had only seen in one other animal.. one other horse. A look that reminded me of Old One-Eye himself and it screamed a higher intelligence beyond those obviously plotting and.. was that horse wearing a stetson?

It was too much to take in and so I did the only thing that still made sense which was to shut down and reboot. In other words I blacked out.

Comments

[re- Yamsmos]

I didn't know who Hank the Cowdog was until I searched for it. Oh my god I haven't read one of those books in forever. I'll definitely keep track of this.