Chapter Nine: We Hear the Roar of the Hurricane
They were gone. We were left alone in the eerie silence of the house. Off in another room, I could hear a clock ticking.
I hoped it was a clock ticking. If it wasn’t a clock, then it was something worse, and right then I didn’t want to speculate on what it might be.
I mean, when a guy finds himself alone in a big empty house, he begins to hear odd little sounds and his imagination starts playing tricks on him.
We sure didn’t need any of that. Our deal was looking bad enough without any extras.
I moved myself out from under the table, out into the middle of the kitchen floor, and began pacing. My mind seems to work better when I pace. Have I ever mentioned that? Maybe not.
I began pacing. “Well, Drover, this situation has gone from bad to worse. First, we got ourselves lured into the house by a bratty little boy. Then we almost got caught. And now we’ve been abandoned in the midst of a storm.”
“Yeah, and I’m fixing to turn into a cat!”
I stopped pacing. “What?”
“I’m fixing to turn into a cat. I can feel it happening already, ’cause I feel more like I do right now than I did a while ago.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You said I was going to turn into a cat ’cause I ate your bacon. And I think it’s starting to happen.”
“Oh, that. Forget it, Drover, we’ve got much bigger problems to think about.”
He was starting to cry. “My mom’s going to be so disappointed! The last thing she said when I left home was, ‘Drover, be a good little dog.’ She never wanted a cat for a son, and now look what I’ve done!”
“I tried to warn you.”
“I know you did. You’ve been a good friend and I wish I’d never tasted raw bacon.”
“Yes, it’s almost ruined you. On the other hand, we might try the cure.”
“The cure?” He came padding out from under the table. “You mean . . .”
“Exactly. The same team of brilliant scientists who discovered the link between bacon and Cattination, those same guys came up with a cure. Didn’t I mention that?”
“No, I didn’t know about it.” He began hopping up and down. “Oh Hank, tell me about it, let me be cured. I’ll be a good dog for the rest of my life, honest I will!”
“Hmmm.” I paced a few steps away, paused a moment to think, then turned back to Drover. “Okay, I’ll do it, just this once and not because you deserve it, because you don’t.”
“I know. I was a rat.”
“You really were, Drover.”
“And a pig. I was a terrible pig for hogging all the bacon. I was a pig-hog.”
“You certainly were.”
“But that’s all behind me now. No more bacon for me. I’m a changed dog.”
“I’m glad to hear that, son. It renews my hope in . . . you know, we really don’t have time to discuss your personal problems.”
“Oh my gosh. What are we going to do?”
“I’m not sure. I was hoping you might have some ideas.”
“Well, let’s get me cured, before I turn into a cat.”
“Oh yes, the cure. Here’s the deal. Roll over three times and repeat the, uh, curative words. Let’s see,
“Piggy bacon, wrongly taken.
Piggy ways are now forsaken.”
“I think I can do it, Hank! Watch this.” He rolled over three times and said the, uh, magic curative words. Then he leaped to his feet and gave himself a shake. “There, I did it and I’m so happy! I don’t feel like a cat any more.”
“Great, Drover, I’m happy for you. Oh, one last part of the cure: I get all the supper scraps for a week.”
“Sure, Hank, that’s the least I can do.”
He hopped and skipped with joy. I watched him and felt a glow of, well, fatherly pleasure, you might say. Helping others through difficult situations has always . . .
Huh? All at once my thoughts were pulled away from good deeds and helping others, as I suddenly realized that (a) the wind had stopped blowing; (b) the rain had stopped falling; (c) the air seemed thick and heavy.
A spooky calmness had moved through the house, across the ranch, perhaps across the entire world.
“Drover, do you notice anything odd?”
“Well, let’s see. We’re dogs and we’re in the house where the people stay, but all the people went outside where the dogs stay. That seems kind of odd to me.”
“Yes, but I mean the air.”
“Oh.” He sniffed the air. “Yeah, it smells like two wet dogs and I guess that’s odd.”
“Wrong again, Drover. All at once the air is still and heavy, and those are symptoms of a hurricane. Are you familiar with hurricanes?”
“I thought they said ‘tornado.’”
“No, a tornado has never struck this valley. We’ve already discussed that. It must be a hurricane. Do you know about hurricanes?”
“Well . . . not really.”
“A huge swirling wind, Drover, one of the most destructive storms in all of nature. It can pick up trees, cars, houses, even dogs, and carry them to who-knows-where.”
Lightning twinkled outside and in its spooky silver light I saw Drover’s eyes. They had grown to the size of pies.
“Oh my gosh, I had just started feeling safe ’cause Sally May left the house, but now you’re telling me . . .”
“I’m telling you that hurricanes are even more dangerous than Sally May when she’s mad.”
“Oh my gosh!”
“And we’re in grave danger.”
“Oh, this leg is killing me!”
My teeth were beginning to chatter. My legs were quivering. The air was so heavy now, I could hardly breathe. “Drover, we’ve got to get out of here. But how?”
“Yeah, but how?”
“Good question.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
I found myself pacing again, as I tried to focus all my powers of concentration on this problem which seemed to have no solution. I mean, we were locked inside a house, right?
I thought and thought and thought, and also paced and paced and paced. Nothing. It wasn’t working.
“Drover, we’re cooked.”
“Yeah, and I’m not even hungry.”
I stopped pacing and whirled around to face him. “Yes, because you ate two pieces of my bacon, you little sneak, and . . . why did you mention food? I was talking about something else.”
“Well, I don’t know. I guess I’m so scared, I’m liable to say anything. I think you said something about . . . somebody was cooking supper . . . I think.”
“Hmmm. That doesn’t ring any bells.”
Suddenly a bell rang . . . the telephone again, perhaps the sheriff’s department calling to . . .
Drover jumped. “Oh my gosh, there’s one now!”
“Yes, and it’s all come back to me. I had just said, ‘We’re cooked, Drover,’ because we are now trapped between Sally May and a deadly swirling hurricane.”
“Oh my gosh, oh my leg, I’m going to jump out a window and get out of here!”
He left the kitchen and went streaking into the living room. “I’m afraid that won’t work, Drover. We would be cut to pieces on the glass, so I’d advise you not to . . .”
I heard a thump, then . . . his voice. “I did it, Hank, I made it through the window and now I’m outside!”
I hurried into the living room, toward the sound of his voice. “That’s impossible, Drover. I didn’t hear the crash of broken glass. You see, windows are made of window glass, therefore . . .”
“Yeah, but the window was open and I knocked the screen off and here I am, outside. Are you proud of me?”
Hmmmm. It appeared that this thing needed, uh, further study. I went streaking to the so-called window and found . . . by George, there was an open window in the living room, and it appeared that someone or something had . . . well, removed the screen, so to speak.
“Okay, Drover, relax. The pieces of the puzzle are falling into place. You’re probably wondering why that window happened to be open, aren’t you?”
“Not really.”
“I mean, why would anyone open a window in the midst of a rainstorm? Most dogs would never figger that one out, Drover, but I happen to know the answer.”
“You may know the answer but I’m outside the house!”
“Hush, Drover, I’m about to tie this all together. You see, Loper opened several windows. That’s what you’re supposed to do when a hurricane is coming. Can you tell me why?”
“Hank, these clouds look awful. They’re green.”
“Let me finish. When a hurricane is coming, Drover, you open one window to let it in and a second window to let it out. That’s why Loper opened the windows, don’t you see, and that explains why.”
“Hank, I hear something roaring.”
“Huh? Roaring, you say?”
“Yeah.” We were quiet for a moment, and . . . by George, I seemed to hear a certain . . . well, roaring sound. “Hank, do hurricanes bark or growl?”
“I don’t think so. In other words, no.”
“Do they roar?”
That roar was getting LOUDER.
“Drover, we may need to cut this lesson short and . . . yikes, maybe I’d better get out of here!”
And with that, I went flying through the open window.