The dogs followed the clanging sound through the woods. Every minute or so they would stop, wait for the noise to ring out again, adjust their angle of pursuit, and move toward it.
Each time they stopped to listen, Poo-Poo took advantage of the opportunity to do his favorite thing: lift his head toward the higher branches and sniff for squirrels. “Those conniving, fuzzy puff-buckets are getting pretty smart,” he said during one of these stops.
“You mean the squirrels, Poo-Poo?” asked Karen.
“That’s right,” Poo-Poo answered, and nodded curtly. “Those whisker-twitchers have become highly advanced, I think. The nut-dropping scoundrels are hiding better than ever.”
Mutt asked, “How do you think they’re doing that?”
Poo-Poo was quick to answer. “Well, obviously they’ve had to create a whole new array of weapons and tools to combat my superior squirrel-hunting skills. That’s certainly why it’s so hard for me to find them lately. Those stinky fur balls created new methods and devices in a last-ditch attempt to cling to any final hope for species survival. They had to do it to stand any chance against me.”
His friends were quite impressed with this concept. Mutt asked, “What new tools have they developed, Poo-Poo?”
“I wish I knew, Mutt. I wish I knew,” answered Poo-Poo. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they now have cloaking devices to hide themselves from my tremendous sniffing abilities. Or perhaps they invented a camouflage machine. I bet they scurry into it whenever their radar devices detect I’m in the area.”
“Camouflage machine?” Karen asked. “Radar devices?”
“For sure,” Poo-Poo said, and nodded with absolute confidence. “It’s why I can’t find those nasty fluff balls. It’s the only explanation I can think of.”
Stripes, Mutt, and Karen were almost awestruck by everything Poo-Poo said. They followed each of his words with wide-open eyes and utter concentration. He had worked himself up into a pretty good frenzy.
“Each one of those sniffy whisker-flickers drives me nuts!” Poo-Poo sneered. He spoke through clenched teeth as he paced back and forth. “They’re my archenemies! My daily obsession! My . . . my . . . my . . . whole reason for living. I was BORN to prove my superiority to squirrels! It’s my life’s work! It’s my DENSITY!”
“I think you mean ‘destiny,’” Stick Dog said quietly, but nobody heard him. They were too wrapped up in Poo-Poo’s emotional tirade.
He continued to talk to himself as much as to the others. “If I could just get up into those trees, I’d find those poof-tails,” he muttered, and paced some more. “One time. That’s all I need. Just one time up in a tree. No cloaking device could hide them from me. No radar could detect me. No, sir. If I could get up in a tree and confront a squirrel face-to-face, it would be all over. All over, I tell you.”
As Poo-Poo ranted, Stick Dog continued to wonder about the sound. He thought they were pretty close. And he hoped the investigation into that sound would take Poo-Poo’s mind off squirrels—and take everybody else’s minds off their hunger. He knew his friends were hungry. Berries and creek water were not enough to subsist on. Stick Dog was running out of ideas. He was worried, but he didn’t want his friends to know that.
Investigating that sound might distract his friends from their hunger. And it would buy Stick Dog some time, perhaps, to think of another food source. His first job, however, was to end Poo-Poo’s latest squirrel obsession. He stepped closer to him.
“I’m sorry you can’t get up in a tree, Poo-Poo,” Stick Dog said seriously. “I’m sure—heck, I’m positive—that if you did, you would prove yourself against a squirrel.”
“But for now, let’s keep moving toward that—”
Smash-CLANG!!
The sound was close.
Really close.
Its loudness and proximity startled all five dogs.
“It’s this way!” yelled Stripes.
“Let’s go!!” screamed Poo-Poo.
And that’s exactly what they did.
