Arc 1: Chapter 5: I really do hate horses.
Did I ever mention I hate horses?
I didn’t? Well then, be aware they’re not the only menace to my health but they’re pretty high up there. If I had to create some sort of list to list all the dangers to not only my health but that of the residences of the ranch than horses would be number three: five belongs to the coyotes, four is bird dogs, two the scary Mrs. Sally and one being the natural enemy of every animal in this lovely world….
Vets.
Yep, you heard correctly its vets and their diabolically clean offices and insistence they know how to cure every little thing. Mama once told me not to trust anybody that claims to know the cure to everything because it means they’re a snake charmer, and snakes are bad. Especially if they’re paws are clean, meaning they’ve never known a hard day's work, and that leads to more bird dogs (not named Plato but close).
When it comes to the other four I can take the pain. Coyotes? Dealt with them many times before and not once tripped running..charging them! Horses? A broken leg at most but that healed with a little R&R and extra rations. The rest pale in comparison to these monsters of the medical world. Granted my experience with them is limited, the three occasions were plenty enough to make my opinion on them justified. Heck, my first encounter with these people were amongst the earliest days I can remember.
I was very young, a pup just old enough to walk without falling over every second. The world back then was so large and majestic to us pups that any new experience was a treasure. Each time we got up and walked always took us somewhere new and exciting, the possibilities were endless!
Not to bore you with the details of this scarring moment in my life, but the short story is a lot of bright lights and many needles. Can you understand what that’s like for a pup? Traumatizing wouldn’t describe the feeling but “very scary” will have to do. Yes, it was a very scary moment in my early life that in a way encouraged me to become the cowdog I am today, but the exact details of my rise are classified. Yep. State secrets and buried treasure they are which sadly means I can’t divulge anything relating to my past…
Ah doggie bones, let’s just pretend this little conversation never happened ok? Just our little secret between the two of us, heck it’ll be our very own secret paw shake.
Good? Good.
Looking around the room confirmed I had been moved since my untimely (failed) escape. This new room wasn’t a home but an office or work area of sorts with little else but the necessities needed to properly do a job. I can respect this logic utmost with my experiences working along Loper and Slim, there wasn’t a job that needed some sort of creative solution or tool to complete.
Currently gathered along the wall next to the door and in front of the lone desk were a total of seven chairs, each carved from wood and looking new. Here and there in key spots were charts spouting mumbo jumbo I couldn’t make out, but two near the lone double door cabinet sported pictures of a small horse’s bones. There was one showing off the side view of its bones while the other went for the more creepy vibe of showing the muscles. Who in their right mind would want something like that decorating their workplace? My mind drifted back to Rip and Snort, maybe even Wallace and Junior but that’s it really.
Moving along I noticed a large rectangle of a table placed next to the cabinet with enough space for a person to walk around it, and open the cabinet doors without hitting it. There was a small clock hanging above the door with a coat rack next to it in the corner, a simple white apron being the only thing taking advantage of it. If you didn’t count the area in the corner I occupied then there wasn’t anything else going for this room. Plain and simple. A nice touch I could get behind if I ever decided to retire and purchase that single room dog house over in the neighboring ranch.
Speaking of my housing preferences, let it be known that being tied with a rope to a hook on the wall isn’t my thing. At the moment I was resting on.. not a pillow, but some sort of sheet made out of cloth so thin it felt like the wood floor had fur. Itchy fur at that.
I patted this poor excuse of a bed just to confirm I wasn’t misjudging this gesture, to which the deep bass like thump told me I wasn’t. There was no slim pillow hiding under this bed sheet, just the solid wooden floor ready to ruin any chance at sleep. Tto my left was a small dish that contained foggy room temperature water, and a small plate that smelt more like dead grass than actual kibble.
Peachy. I’m a captive now instead of a guest.
The upsetting part was I couldn’t even reach the offerings if I wanted to because whoever tied the rope clearly didn’t know how an underhand knot is supposed to work! If I tilted my head enough I could make out the edges of the knot in my peripheral vision and it’s enough to make Loper chuck a boot and Slim to sigh before going to retrieve it.
First, I’m kidnapped from my beloved ranch and dumped in a random pasture before being forced to endlessly wander in the heat. Next, I’m treated to some sort of domestication-inducing couch (that likely turned the ponies crazy), and now I find myself tied in what looks like a doctor’s office with the food bowl just out of reach.
What next, this doctor turns out to be a vet and doubles as the local dogcatcher?
Ok, that’s a terrifying thought.
Now, not only am I in a potential vet’s house, but a vet that doubles as a dogcatcher? I swear the world’s out to get me with how every little thing in my life seems to just happen at once. But maybe.. perhaps this is all some sort of test meant to test me?
To test what, I can’t put a paw on it, but whatever it could be it's obviously not for my benefit.
This new possibility is what threw the bone into the muddy puddle, and gave it the most taste. In my grand career I’ve experienced more than enough to bark my life’s story till the sun retires and goes to bed. That’s a lot for most dogs, but I’m not most dogs. All my life I have risen to whatever challenges sprung up around my slice of green grass and there’s no way I’m turning tail now!
Uh? It’s funny how looking at something in another light really changes the meaning. Sure, you may say it's a common sense thing or it's as obvious as looking at the sun and away from the sun, but not every critter in life is awarded with my intellect. Now it may sound like I’m burying my own bone here but I can’t help it if facts are facts, but let us bury the river and move over the bridge shall we?
I can’t say how much time has passed, but given the slight grumble in my belly and stiff joints I can safely say half a day at the least. Feeling the need to stretch forced me up onto all fours, and with a quick extension of my spine was rewarded with a series of consecutive pops. A familiar routine deeply engraved into my very bones that not only gave me a sense of familiarity but also found it very therapeutic.
The rope extended just enough to allow me some illusion of movement but that ultimately broke the moment I tried for the bowl of food and water. Cabbages, I forgot about that. My hunger coupled with the tantalizing sight of food only worsened the whole ordeal. Note, the smell isn’t the most enticing but when you’re on the brink of starvation it becomes easy to forgive these minor details.
Or at least I tried to.
The rumblings in my gut kept me from focusing on other matters, but it did open my eyes to the desperation of my situation. Besides the obvious bad smell, the off-brand kibble just didn’t look right either. Perhaps it was because the pellets were the size of a small bone or the fact they looked like they'd been dropped in a barn, and nobody bothered to dust them ruined the appeal, but it certainly doesn’t help. Ignoring that, the food looked edible until I sneezed and a small cloud of dust rolled off the pellets and right into my eyes.
Strangely, the more I studied the out of reach bowl of food I found myself losing interest in the whole ordeal. Sure I’m hungry and upset, the food provided reminds me of alfalfa pellets(still it's the thought that counts), tied to a wall by a doctor, probably a vet/dog catcher, yet, none of this irked me as it did previously. What brushed my fur the wrong way was they had the nerve to treat me like a common animal!
Haven’t these people ever heard of southern hospitality before?
Seriously, I’m tied up by a piece of rope barely long enough to move off this poor excuse of a bed sheet, and short enough to make the bowls of nourishment little more than eye candy. All of this irked me to no end. As a hard working cowdog, to suddenly be confined and treated as a common pet was.. no.. IS a grave injustice against my kind (mostly me).
I have to act soon or risk wasting my days tied to this wall learning to eat sunlight(how you can I don’t know) just eat something. With this determination and a case of hunger fueling the need to escape, I madly turned around and latched my jaws onto what little rope I could get.
You didn’t hear this from me, but it was a tad exhilarating cutting loose.
The sensation of at once releasing your corralled angst onto something is therapeutic. A throwback to my short lived outlaw days where this sort of outburst was not only accepted, but encouraged between others in the tribe. The idea behind this belief is simple: throw everything into problem until no more.
Isn’t coyote logic so wonderful?
A simple belief that (with a little luck) I could use to work to my advantage.
At first, I tried my luck gnawing as close to the knot as possible before working further down the rope to give me better leverage. This seemed like the right move, thanks to my top notch teeth I was literally eating strands of stuff. Thankfully the rope tasted new, or just not used often.
I kept this tactic up for weeks..days.. Ok not that long but a span of time did pass and let's leave it like that. I tried my darndest but the last few strands were unusually thick and sadly proved to be my match(more like it cheated) and I had to stop before my poor jaw gave out. Let it be known in no way was I admitting defeat, but instead backing off to regroup for another attack at a later time.
I was in the middle of ridding myself of a few bits of rope that had found their way between my impressive choppers when suddenly the only door popped open.
“Yeeerp!”
“Oh, I’m so so sorry dear! I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The owner of the voice did not scare me as she( judging from the tone) claimed to have done. No, far from it. The yerp was purposely deployed to lure the strange pony into a false sense of security to subdue her expectations which would make my escape easier.
“Awwh, poor baby. Did you get tangled up?” I froze when the strange mare noticed my escape attempt, and almost started chewing faster when she grabbed the slack of rope and removed it.
Even among the animals back home I made it a point not to hurt any female which was the only reason the strange mare was spared my tried and true Bark & Snap routine.
“There. All good now, purdy boy.” The mare chimed as her hoof quickly gave me pat on the head before retreating to fix her long red locks since they kept covering her eyes.
As she fiddled with a yellow ribbon with images of cherries on it, I began building a file on this mare to store into my database noting her features, and accessories like the yellow ribbon and the lopsided pink scarf around her neck. Strangely, the way this pony carried herself reminded me of a true southern belle, and a little bit like Miss Beulah in how she spoke and postured herself. The long strands of red mane bounced with a soft, and dainty elegance I never knew could be achieved on a female, let alone a pony. I may strongly dislike horses and their smaller cousins, but I’ll give credit where it’s due by suggesting this mare had a womanly charm to her.
For a dangerous animal.
“Now where could have that o’l fool Winding Gauze gone?” the mare muttered to herself as she left me to explore the office, noting how she lingered by the shelf that held several picture frames before casually strolling toward the desk by the window.
Her behavior struck me as odd, and almost cat-like as she appeared to innocently move around the room looking for some unknown reason, nearly eliciting a bark from me. Good training has always proven stronger in times of unknown, and living by this code held the bark down to continue watching her movements. They were deliberate, and cunning.
‘She's been here before.’ I thought as the mare knew where to go. There was no loitering in the movements, but a focused path being laid out as red mane mare spun around in the middle of the room for no reason.
The act might have appeared innocent in nature, but I still pressed myself against the wall just in case she decided to lash out and buck a cowdog or some other creature.
“It's best we be ago’n young pup.” She called out. My eyes were already tracking her movements by the time she reached the rope that bound me in place.
I even managed to fake a whimper, and let me tell you it was a good one too! Her eyes softened a mighty good bit, that I got worried somebody left the faucet running in those green irises. To terror the mare reached out with her hooves and grasped the sides of my face, and proceeded to treat me like a wide eyed pup!
“YOU POOR THING!” She nearly wailed while pinching my cheeks. How hooves could do anything besides be a hoof left me reeling at the possibilities these strange free pasture ponies could do.
I really might have to get the Texas Rangers involved at this rate. No lie. Cowdog’s honor.
This surprise assault of my personal space ended after only two rotations of check pinching, before the mare finally began untying the knot in the rope.
“One moment...” She began messing with the rope, and I took my chance.
“So long sucker!” I barked as I bolted for the ajar door.
Never had I run faster than that very moment, and I’ve had to outrun coyotes before on a near daily basis back at the ranch. What made this moment different could only be guessed by future generations, but in that moment I knew paws were moving so fast that I could feel the air in my muzzle as I made lift off. Yes you heard right, I was running so fast for that door I began flying…
The rope tightened enough to choke me, and with a mighty yank me into the air.
My paws kept moving forward which caused me to do a 180 like you see on TV sometimes, which meant my paws ran themselves off the ground and into the air, and with a loud smack I fell onto my back. The air escaped my lungs as I laid there staring up into the sky when my ears caught the frantic movement of the other creature in the room, and with understanding of what happened, watched as her southern belle face appeared with the end of a rope firmly clinched in her jaws.
“You ok hun? Got a wee bit cited dint we?” Her speech was either hindered by the rope or her accent just came out stronger in that last part, but the look in her eyes appeared genuine with their concern for me.
A faked another whimper, and got a similar reaction from the mare as before. Instantly, the buttermilk colored mare reached out and lifted me up with frightening little effort, and set me back on my paws. She proceeded to hug, and pet me afterward leaving myself further degraded by being treated like a common pet by horses.
The struggles one has to endure in my kind of work, but it's a necessary requirement that ultimately separates the pups like Drover from cowdogs like myself. If you aren’t willing to put up the work, then you have no business in the ranching profession. It’s a waste of time, and energy that could be put to better use in another less important, but still valuable field like car chaser, or guard dog.
Keeping up with this act, I allowed the mare to keep treating me as a puppy with her cooing noises, and need to pinch my cheeks with those crazy hooves. I almost didn’t allow it, but by forces beyond my control I was able to play the part of a hurt cowdog, earning myself the symphony needed to get me out of this vet’s office.
“Let’s get going, pup.” the mare said as she took the lead, rope in mouth toward the door.
“This was it!” I thought as I followed the mare, and with a single flick of her hoof pushed the door open.
We appeared in a normal looking hallway with stained, wood flooring with wood flakes beginning to peel near the center of each board while the edges looked almost new. As in the office, there was electricity running through the hall with three open light bulbs centered in the high travel areas, one where we stood, a second in the hall itself, while the third flickered by another open space with a door by a window. I could see the sunlight peering through the window meaning that was the exit.
“Alright hun, the office is locked up…” She jolted the handle twice to make sure it didn’t open, before turning to me. “...we’ll have to hurry pup. We’re later than the train on Sunday.”
I still didn’t know where we were going or who we’ll have to meet, but I’ll play the obedient dog if it meant getting some proper answers to my questions. Like where are the humans at? Wouldn’t a free roam pasture still have at least one ranch hand to check on the herd?
Has anyone noticed I was missing?
Surely they must have noticed when I didn’t return from my recent patrol...when was that actually? I honestly can’t remember how long ago that last patrol was, nor what happened after word.
“That dang Madam Moonshine and her pet snake.” I nearly growled as I thought back, knowing they were somehow involved with my lost memories, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember what they were. Weird thing the mind is.
Luckily, the mare didn’t notice and a quick walk down the hallway led us to the doors that likely lead to the outside. She turned to look at me with the rope still firmly planted between her chompers.
“Be on that best beehaver ya understand?” I barked and wagged my tail for good measure earning a sweet smile from the mare. “Good. It gets mighty crowded during this time of day, so stick close.”
She gave me a single pat on the head with her unnaturally soft hooves before grabbing the handle to open the door. Now, I didn’t know what to expect given my very limited exposure to the other pony and it's weird pet squirrel, but let it be known this certainly wasn’t it!
What greeted me was an actual cowboy town, wooden buildings, wagons, ponies, ponies wearing cowboy hats…
No. I’m not making that last part up, nor couldn’t if I ever tried to because of how ridiculous the idea sounded. I would expect this made up story from Drover if I weren’t seeing it with my own good eyes, and trust me, these orbs of sight were some of the finest trained west of the Mississippi River. What we had here took the free roam idea to another level beyond logical practices.
“Laziness.” I told myself as we went across the dirt road, and began following it to the west.
It was pure laziness on the rancher’s part for abandoning their livestock for so long they’ve restored to act’n and dressen like people to survive!
The more I followed the mare down this road, the more I became convinced this was the case but more severe than I previously thought. Not only were these ponies dressen the part, but they were even mimicking them to- a blacksmith, sheriff with a badge, and a few attending carts selling fruits and other items. These ponies were not only desperate for human contact that they were willing to dress like them, but were even imitating their jobs!
It was more than laziness now, and if I weren’t seeing it with my own two eyes, then I would have never believed it. Mother always said ‘Not to trust what your ears are hearing, for they might need to be cleaned.’
Our trek through the street led us into close proximity to other ponies who greeted the red mane mare with an air of familiarity that reminded me of my own greetings to Miss Beula, and Missy Coyote to some degree. I played the part of a good cowdog, and listened to their conversations by pretending to be a curious dog wondering who the new pony was.
This marvelous acting earned me a few more of the weird head pats, and a few ‘good boy’, but my plan worked and revealed some information I desperately needed to formulate my escape. Comparing what I learned from Perri the Squirrel about the supposed bandits roaming the property, I discovered the brahman herd and these ponies weren’t on the greatest of terms, but were going to work together to find these bandits.
A courageous effort on their parts, but a doomed one from the sounds of it. Cattle and Horses were never good friends to begin with given their ancient histories, but a commendable effort to dish out justice all the same. Now, it was during the conversation with the *cough* sheriff that I discovered the southern belle parading me around was named Cherry Jubilee, and she was to be looking after me while this Braeburn fella went off with the coalition.
“Those names are stupid.” I muttered as the two ponies talked.
I continued my observations of the town trying to gauge how these ponies conducted life in this strange pasture, and the more I watched them, the more I felt worried what could happen if this kind of ranching became common. Cowdogs like myself have always been used in ranch protection since the dawn of ranching, and to see confused animals not only living without our protection, but mimicking their caretakers to this degree wasn’t right. It threatened a natural balance that needed to be maintained at all cost, and once I’m free from this mare’s oppressive rope, then I could go back to the ranch and bring the High Loper, Slim, Drover, the Texas Rangers...
“Come on pup, time to go!” There was a tugging on the rope, and with a single yank threw me back onto my paws.
One way or another I needed to escape, and quickly before I met an early retirement.
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This was a fun read. Haven't read a book like this in years. It was nostalgic.
Hey I remember Hank the cow dog
10990992
Hey, glad you’re enjoying what’s here so far! Same with, Hank was one of the first book series that got me into reading, and I wanted to capture that feeling with this story. Wouldn’t be Hank if he weren’t acting as a Cowdog, uh?
10991005
It’s a trip uh?
10991836
Yep
10991837
Since re- releasing the story, I need to ask what do you think of it so far? Anything that comes off as too glaring while you read?
10991921
Ill give you a good answer to that, as I just found this.
Give me a few days and Ill give you a review.
The Monk
“To say that Twilight Sparkle went bugfuck would be like saying the Incredible Hulk had some mild anger management issues.” -DustTraveller
Ok, just finished and caught up. For those who don't know it, "Hank the Cowdog" is a set of children's books based on the title character. I feel that this story does justice to the original books. As far as the story itself goes, KarmaSentinal has done a decent job.
My only nit pick would be that the story seems a bit slow paced and the Author may want to introduce some more scenes of action or real interest to keep the reader engaged.
Other than that, there is nothing wrong with the story.
It keeps the spirit of the source material extremely well. You Just have to add hooks every chapter or two, in order to keep the readers engaged.
Monk
"I understand killin’ but I sure as hell don't understand you sheltered bastards.” -ThePhoton
11037124
I appreciate you taking the time to providing some context to the story's source material, and noting the flaws. You're right. The story is slow to start, but that my intention trying to depict Hank's reaction to finding out his whole world is suddenly flipped upside down. But I can say the next several chapters are the action chapters as Hank is thrusted head first into the action of this first arc.
I can't say when it'll be ready since I have two other stories that are being worked on as well, but I can say the story is on my radar and being worked on here and there.