Muscles in my back tightened. Hard as I could, I swung to the side, trying to get hold of the branch with my hind foot.
I missed.
WHAM!
Rocky leaped again. His fierce jaws snapped. I barely managed to jerk my tail out of the way. Frantic, I struggled to reach the limb and pull myself up.
“I’ve got you . . . now!” He leaped and barked his threats. “I knew you’d . . . mess up, sooner . . . or later and . . . when you did . . . I’d be . . . ready. . . .”
Rocky couldn’t jump and bark at the same time. So every time he was in the air, he managed only part of what he was trying to say. Fact was, I don’t think Rocky could even think in complete sentences—much less say something all together.
With all my strength I pulled until my chin was resting on the limb. Then I swung my hind leg.
“I’m gonna get . . . that tail and . . . yank you down from . . . that tree. I’m gonna chew . . . you up into . . . tiny pieces . . . and . . .”
I made it. As soon as all four feet were on the branch, I scampered back to where I was safe. I stood there, panting and watching.
“Are you okay?” Rotten Willy woofed from below.
“Yeah,” I gasped. “I got mad at that stupid bird and wasn’t paying attention. You talk about dumb. If I hadn’t grabbed on to that—”
“Come back, you . . . cowardly cat . . . I dare you . . . to walk back . . . out on that . . . limb. . . .”
I stood at the base of the branch, where it joined Willy’s pecan tree. Every time Rocky leaped and barked, all I could see of him over the fence was his pointy nose and pointy ears and pointed head.
“I’m stronger, now . . . and I can jump . . . higher. And . . . if you weren’t . . . such a chicken . . . cat, you’d . . .”
“Man, that is one nasty dog,” Willy snorted, glaring at the wood fence. “It’s dudes like him that give all us dogs a bad name.”
I curled my tail and sat down. My fur was just now starting to unpuff.
“I thought you were the only nice dog there was.”
“No. A lot of dogs are nice. Most of us won’t even bother a cat unless you run from us. Ones like me, who grew up with cats, we don’t chase them at all.”
“If I could . . . just get my . . . paws on top . . . of this fence . . . I’d climb over . . . there and grind . . . you into dog . . . food. I’d—”
“Ah, SHUT UP!!!”
My eyes flashed. It startled me to hear Willy’s bark and my hiss say the same thing to Rocky at the exact same instant. We looked at each other and laughed.
“The way I got it figured,” I told Willy as I backed down the tree, “it has to be the breed. I mean, Dobermans are pretty big dogs. But you got this big dog with pointed ears, a pointed nose, and a teeny, tiny head. Big dog—tiny head. There’s not room for much of a brain inside that ittsy-bittsy skull.”
Willy shrugged his ears.
“Might be part of it. But I’ve met some nice Dobermans in my day. I figure it was more the way his people raised him.”
“Come back . . . cat . . . I’ll play tag . . . with you . . . just get on . . . this side of . . . the fence and . . .”
Willy and I ignored him. We trotted to his doghouse and lay down for another nap.
“You really think it was his people?”
Willy nodded.
“Yep. His people wanted Rocky to be a watchdog, so they were real mean to him when he was a puppy. They poked him with sticks and scared him and stuff like that.”
“How terrible.”
Willy nodded his agreement.
“They wanted him to bark and be mean, like them. It worked, too. Rocky won’t let people near the house. Not even little kids. He doesn’t like cats. I tried to make friends with him. He doesn’t like dogs. He’s not happy with his people. Fact is, I don’t even think Rocky likes Rocky all that much. It’s a shame.”
I curled up against his tummy and closed my eyes. Trouble was, my eyes wouldn’t stay shut. The afternoon was warm and comfortable. I got up, made two circles, then lay down again. Rocky finally quieted. I yawned and forced my eyes tight. There was a breeze, but just enough to keep the air moving—not so much that it tickled my fur or irritated me. I clamped my eyes tighter. There were no birds chirping in the trees. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Perfect weather and time of day for a nap. I flipped one way, then the other. Willy moaned when I got up. Still trying to get comfortable, I made two more circles and lay back down. My tail wrapped over my face. Then an eye popped open and peeked out from underneath it.
It was no use. No matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn’t sleep.
Careful not to wake my friend, I crept through the door and climbed the pecan tree. From up high I could see my whole world.
Behind Willy’s fence there was the baseball field, and beyond that, the football stadium. In the fall no one came to the baseball field. Well, maybe now and then a man came to mow the grass or rake the sand. Tom and I used to run across the empty field and sit on the big, wood fence and tease the dogs. I climbed a little higher.
It was still early in the afternoon, but there were already people walking their dogs around the track at the edge of the football field. The lady who lived on the other side of Rocky’s house—where my friend Tom used to live—was already there with her poodles. I could see their little, prissy, fufu haircuts even from this far away. To the right was a row of houses. There were no pets in their yards, though. And beyond the houses was Luigi’s Italian Restaurant and the busy street where my friend Louie got smushed.
Even higher in the tree I could see over Willy’s house. My house was sort of across the street there. Behind it was an empty field, Farmer McVee’s place, and . . .