Chapter Nine: Cow Bait

Where were we? Oh yes. I had taken a job at the Twitchell Livestock Auction, working with my new pal, Slim Chance. And on my very first day on the job, Slim had given me a big promotion.

"Yup," said Slim, smiling down at me, "as of this moment, I'm promotin' you to Chief of Cow Bait."

Chief of Cow Bait? That was an odd name for such an important position, wasn't it? Oh well, what's a name? A name is only what we call something. What really matters is what it is, and I knew this was going to be ...

Why was he slipping the loop of his catch rope around my middle? And picking me up off the ground? Perhaps he was going to carry me to the awards ...

HUH?

You won't believe this. What a cheap trick. Did you think he was carrying me to the awards banquet? Ha. I should have been so lucky. All at once the meaning of my job title came into focus: Chief of Cow Bait.

He used me for cow bait, that's what he did! He carried me about twenty yards to the east, see, until we reached the pen where he wanted to park the mad, fighting cow. He unlatched the gate and swung it open.

Then, with the noose of his rope around my armpits, he lowered me into the alley. By this time I had figured out what was going on -- I had been tricked and misled, and he wasn't kidding about this. I gave him Wounded Looks. That didn't work, so I gave him Scorching Glares. That didn't work either, so I went to kicking and scratching with all four legs, and you can guess how much good that did. Zero.

The cow saw me and her eyes lit up like ... I don't know what. Like headlights on a train. Like two burning embers. Like the glowing eyes of a terrible monster. She shook her horns, bellered, pawed the ground, and started down the alley, gaining speed with every step.

Suddenly, I felt a need to, uh, make peace with the old ... with Mrs. Cow. "Hey, listen, forget what I said about your mother. Maybe she was a cow, but I'll bet she was a real pretty cow. Honest. I'm being very sincere."

Yikes, she had blood in her eyes and steam shooting out her nostrils. I hit Afterburners and went streaking into the pen, with her right on my tail. I was one step away from being dog meat, but suddenly the rope pulled tight and I felt myself flying through the air. I landed on the ground outside the pen, and in a flash, Slim bailed over the fence and slammed the gate shut.

He grinned and dusted his hands together. "Now, ain't that a pretty piece of cowboy work?"

He climbed over the fence and joined me. I was ... well, sitting there, shaking so hard I couldn't stand up. He knelt down beside me and removed the rope. Then he patted and rubbed my head.

I refused to look at him. Cow bait! I was wounded beyond repair -- my pride, that is, my dignity. My dignity had been smashed and shattered beyond all repair, and it would take a lot more than a few rubs and pats to get me over it.

"Now, pooch, don't be bitter. We got her penned, didn't we?"

Oh sure, right. We got her penned, and almost got me shishkabobbed!

He scratched my ears. "Would it help if I said you were a real hero?"

No.

"Would it help if I said we were going to be pals now?"

No. The damage was just too great.

He reached into his pocket and fished out a candy bar. "Would it help if I gave you bite of my supper?"

Well ...

"Tell you what, we'll split this one fifty-fifty. Now, that's a good deal."

Yes, that was pretty good, I had to admit it, and ... okay, what the heck, I'd never been one to carry a grudge.

He broke the bar in half and gave me my portion. I wolfed it down. Within minutes, my dignity had healed over and we had become the best of pals. But then he ruined it all when he said, "But I can't take you with me. I'm moving to Montana next week."

What?! I stared at him with hurt-filled eyes. Montana!

Related

• Hank the Cowdog in the Case of The Homeless Pooch: Chapter 10