Chapter Ten: An Incredible Mess

Fellers, he’d really done it this time. The guy had survived a charging buffalo and a bronc ride through a clothesline, but this mess promised to shut him down for a long time—and probably destroy a marriage that hadn’t even happened yet.

All at once, his so-called mind came roaring back to the present. He sat up in the water and moved his foot around…harder and harder…and let out a squawl of pain. “Ow!” He leaned forward and took a double hand-grip on the spigot, leaned back and…I don’t know, maybe he thought he could jerk the spigot out of the wall.

Guess what, it didn’t work. Duh.

Then his eyes swung around to me and (this is a direct quote) he said, “Good honk, I can’t get my toe out!”

Oh brother. You know, there are times when a dog is left speechless by the behavior of his human friends. I mean, there are people walking this earth who would say that dogs are dumb, but show me a dog who would stick his toe into a water spigot.

No dog would ever do that. No dog would even think about doing that.

It left me feeling so depressed, I went back into the living room. Behind me, I heard Slim yell, “Hank, don’t quit me now!” I tried to push his words out of my mind, went over to the spot where Drover was napping, and woke him up.

“Drover, wake up, I have some terrible news.” He sat up and I told him what had happened.

He stared at me for a long moment, then burst out laughing. “Hee hee hee. It’s a joke, right?”

“I’m afraid it’s not a joke, son, and we must start preparing for what comes next.”

His eyes grew wide. “Gosh, what comes next?”

I swept my gaze over the ceiling. “In the Worst Case Skinnerio, Slim will sit in the bathtub for days or weeks, until someone finds him. He’ll miss his date with Miss Viola and she’ll figure the engagement is off. Broken-hearted, she’ll move to California, and we never see her again.”

Drover almost choked on that. “Oh no! We can’t let that happen!”

“Yes, well, we don’t have much choice. There’s nothing we can do. The man has really done it this time.”

He stared at the floor and a tear rolled down his cheek. “We’ll never see Viola again, ever?”

“I’m afraid that’s where this is heading.”

Another tear rolled down his cheek, then his eyes came up. “Wait! What if we barked?”

I studied on that. “You know, I didn’t think of that. When all else fails, we should bark, right? It’s worth a try. Come on, son, maybe there’s still a chance!”

We dashed across the room and stood in the open door of the bathroom. Inside, we saw Slim, sitting in the tub. His face was buried in his hands and he was shaking his head and moaning, “I ain’t believing this! These things just don’t happen in the real world!”

I turned to Drover. “All right, soldier, begin filling your tanks.” We both took deeps breath of air. “We don’t have a specific bark for shattering water spigots, so punch in the All Purpose Barking Program.”

“Got it. I’m ready.”

“Okay, here we go. Mark and bark!”

Boy, you talk about some great barks! We leaned into the task and cut loose with round after round of deep, manly All Purpose Barks. After we had barked for about ten seconds, Slim stopped covering his face with his hands and used them to…well, to cover his ears, you might say.

And he screeched, “Dry up! I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t need my ears put out.” The angry expression on his face melted into one of deepest despair. “What in the cat hair am I going to do!”

For a long time he sat there, groaning and shaking his head. Drover and I switched over to The Sharing of Pain. I wasn’t sure it would help, but I couldn’t think of a better idea.

Then Slim cut his eyes toward something on the floor. “My Leatherman’s tool. It’s on my belt. It’s got a saw and a file.” He turned his eyes on me. “Hank, you’ve spent most of your life being a bozo, but this time, I really need your help. Bring my pants over here!”

I turned to Drover. “What did he say?”

“Well, let me think. He’s keeping a file on Bozo, but he doesn’t have any pants.”

“Right, that’s what I heard, but it doesn’t make any sense.”

Slim raised his voice. “Hank, bring my pants!”

Drover and I traded puzzled looks, and I whispered, “Something about plants. Maybe he wants us to water his plants.”

“Yeah, but they all died ‘cause nobody ever watered ‘em.”

“Hmm, good point.”

“Maybe he said planets. He wants us to bark at the stars.”

“Yes, but the stars won’t be out for another hour.”

Slim seemed to be getting more and more agitated, and he roared, “Hank, bring my pants! Bring my jeans. Blue jeans! Pants!”

Drover’s eyes popped wide open. “Wait a second. His jeans are lying on the floor, right over there. Maybe he wants you to bring his pants.”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s sitting in water and one foot’s plugged into the water hydrant. There’s no way he could put on his pants.”

“Hank, bring my pants…now!”

My mind was racing. “Wait, hold everything. He wants me to bring his pants.”

“I’ll be derned.”

“And I think I can do it. Stand by.” I marched over to the jeans sprawled in the middle of the floor and gave them a sniffing. Hmm, horse sweat.

“Hank, hurry up! It’s almost six o’clock!”

For a man who was in a helpless situation, he sure didn’t waste much time on manners. I mean, you’d think he could have spoken in a civil tone and maybe even said “please.”

Oh well. I fitted my jaws around the jeans and dragged them over to the tub. Slim raised himself off the bottom of the tub and leaned out as far as he could, until he managed to snatch one of the pant legs. And he started pulling.

I had my jaws clamped down on the belt-region. Slim pulled and I pulled, and all at once I understood. He wanted to play Tug!

Well, that was okay with me. I mean, it seemed a strange thing to be doing, but we dogs are often called upon to do things that don’t…

Good grief, he snatched the jeans right out of my mouth, and almost took my teeth along for the ride! Hey, take it easy with the teeth, pal, or you’ll end up playing Tug by yourself!

He wasn’t paying any attention to me. His trembling hands went to the leather case on his belt and he came up holding something made of shiny metal. Okay, it was his Leatherman’s tool and maybe that’s what he’d been wanting all along. But why hadn’t he just said so? I mean, how’s a dog supposed to know?

He fumbled around with the device and brought out a little saw, about three inches long. He leaned forward and started sawing on…was he going to cut off his toe? I looked closer. No, he was sawing the spigot, about an inch above the end of his toe.

Well, good. A guy should never cut off his toe until he’s tried everything else.

He sawed and he sawed, and finally gave up. “It won’t cut metal.” He fumbled around with the tool again and brought out another attachment, a little file. Again, he went to work.

I don’t know how long he scraped with the file, but it seemed hours. At last, he leaned back in the tub and stared straight ahead with a look of total defeat in his eyes.

“It would take me a month to file that thing off. It can’t be done. I’m whipped. I’ve lost Viola and I guess I’ll die in my own bathtub. Two months from now, they’ll find my bones.”

Well, you can imagine what an effect those words had on little Mister Squeakbox. His eyes almost bugged out of his head. “Oh my gosh, I’m scared of skeletons!”

He started running in circles, dashed out into the hall, made a right turn, and headed for the bedroom as fast as his legs would carry him. I didn’t actually see him crawl under Slim’s bed, but I knew that’s where he went.

He always crawls under the bed when Life veers out of control.

Well, Life had certainly veered out of control, and I must admit that I was having my own struggle with panic. Think about it. I was twenty-five miles from town, locked in a house where people seldom came to visit, and the only human on the place had his big toe stuck in a bathtub spigot.

Should I follow Drover’s example and hide under the bed? It was tempting, I won’t deny it, but sometimes a dog has to choose between what is comfortable and what is RIGHT.

No sir, I wouldn’t leave my cowboy. When darkness came and the fire went out in the stove, we would shiver together in a cold house and listen to our stomachs growling. We would grow old together and turn into skeletons together, and when they found our bones, they would know that Hank the Cowdog had remained faithful to the bitter…

Huh?

Did you hear that? Maybe not, because you weren’t there, but I sure heard it. Would you like to guess what it might have been? Here are some possibilities:

The house was on fire.

A water pipe had burst under the kitchen sink.

We were having an earthquake.

Wolf Creek was flooding and water was pouring into the living room

Termites were eating the house and the roof was about to collapse.

A rabid skunk had entered the room.

It sounds pretty grim, doesn’t it? But you should always remember the wise old saying: “It’s always darkest before it gets any darker.”

Hang on.