Dad’s goin.’ But not back to the house, no, he’s goin’ up along the ridge inside the growlin’ truck. I see his lights but I don’t smell him ‘cause he’s downwind. The calves, I wish they were downwind.
Why is Dad up there? Why not down here? I can’t smell him but I can hear him. I can hear the truck huffing and complaining. Then it stops. If I cock my ears, I can hear Dad breathin’. Also, I see the red burner thing. Buddy and me used to go down by the river and he’d put them things in his face. He blew that stuff on me and made me sneeze. Then he went hah hah hah and he was glad ‘cause I sneezed, so I was, too.
I’m sposed to sit, but I guess it’s okay if I lie down. I’m pretty tired and my side is pretty sore. But I’m gettin’ along okay, I reckon.
I put the smell of the calves in with the smell of all the cattle. That makes it easier to bear the temptation.
I will protect them, I will never let those creatures near them and I will never, never NO NO do anything to any calf.
That was the best food I ever ate.
I gotta watch, that’s why I’m here.
The white moon rises, the wind with it. Full night, now. Dad’s still up on the ridge and I’m wonderin’ now why they didn’t feed me ‘fore we come out. Buddy would fill my bowl and say “eat good, boy, we’re pullin’ an all-nighter.”
I hungry and lonely. I so hungry, so lonely, an look at the ole moooooooon!
I wonder if Dad would notice if I took just a little bit of one of the calves, just a tiny bit of it? They’re deep in the herd, but I can smell exactly where they are. They breathe light, as light as birds, almost, and taste light, too, light and sweet.
My loverly calves, I could eat you all by myself.
NO, BOB! NO!
But I hungry, Buddy!
NO NO!
I’m all confused, I don’t like to feel this way! I don’t like to feel this way at all! We guard cattle, that is our job, but I can’t forget the taste of that calf.
Dad is way away over there. I can see his red light in his face, I can hear his breathing and the low growl of the truck. I wish Dad was here. And if Buddy was here, I wouldn’t want a calf at all, no way!
Mmmmeee, I want another calf.
Kaiaa
YOU! You’re here! Don’t Dad smell you? I sniff and I sniff and I barely do myself. You’re down over there right near where he is. You’re right near him and he don’t even know it. Otherwise he wouldn’t be breathin’ like he is, slow and easy.
Dad! Dad! Hey! Dad!
His breathin’ don’t change none. He’s lettin’ ‘em get right past him!
I didn’t really call him very loud.
I smell the boss, I smell you all. And you’re comin’ right down here, right in front a Dad and he’s lettin’ you, so it’s okay, of course, that’s it, Dad’s showin’ me it’s okay.
No, it isn’t and I know it very well.
So I gotta call Dad again. Call him loud enough for him to hear.
Except, I don't.
I smell and I listen. You’re huntin’, I can tell by the way you sound, spreadin’ out like that, keepin’ to the brush and grass. I better go over there, keep you away from the herd.
But you’re fast, you’re already there and not even the herd, not even they know it!
Gotta do my job! Gotta bark, gotta call Dad! Gotta raise the alarm, gotta fight the coys!
‘Cept…I don’t.
I bein’ a bad dog, Buddy, I know it, but you’re not here, you’re not even home, you left ole Bob, you left me and now you are not here.
I’m goin’ over to the coys, just trottin’ a little closer, just to see what’s goin’ on. I’ll bark for Dad in just a minute.
I smell ‘em strong, and they’re all around me. You wag, boss, and I wag back. You’re powerful, little boss. I want to roll, just to tell you how much I feel right now.
We sniff among the tall legs of the cattle, and he doesn’t want me to roll! I feel good, I strut, I push back a little dirt. He does the same. My tail goes high. I am proud. But now the cattle smell us, and my smell doesn’t worry them, but the boss’s does. They would already be runnin’, ‘cept for me, my smell is confusin’ em.
The boss knows this. The boss knows I can get in deep where the calves are. His eyes say to me, “bring a calf out.”
Far away, I hear barking. Culebra’s voice. So she knows. But then she stops. We are moving slow in the cattle, but they are getting restless anyway. They are stomping, their hooves going hoomp against the ground. And they are crying gaaaoooommmm, geeaaooommmm. I know these sounds. They mean that they will soon run.
I got to cut out that calf right now or they will all stampede away and we’ll have a lot of work to do just to not be hit by their hooves.
I go closer. The cattle around me are quiet.
These coys are real experts. They are scaring the cattle toward me, making it easier for me.
I smell a calf real close. Real close. Now I see it, black one, milk-sweet and long-legged, snuggling to its momma.
I will need to cut them both out, the calf is too young to be cut by hisself.
The coys are quiet now. Nobody so much as yelps.
I don't want to do this. Protecting these cattle is my work. But oh, they smell so good.
Oh, Dad, why didn't you feed me?
I am torn in half. I hafa do my work. I hafa be a good dog. But I'm hungry and it would be so easy.
Buddy, help me, Buddy, help Bob. 'Cause Bob is gonna do wrong, Buddy, Bob is tired and hurtin' and hungry and a calf is the best tasting food that ever there was.
I cut 'em just a little more, just bring 'em back in the herd a few feet, that don't mean nothin'. It don't mean nothin'!
But then I cut 'em more. I'm a bad dog, but I can't stop myself, I need that meat, I need it so much.
The cow stays with it, and soon they are both on the edge of the herd. Now the cow starts making scared noises. She knows they are being cut out. She smells the coys.
The calf makes a noise, beeeooott, and all of a sudden the boss just reaches up—and I will not let him, NO NO NO!
This is my life and my job, I been given it, this is what I do.
He just glances at me. Then he has the calf by the throat!
I jump and I get him! You WILL NOT! YOU WILL NOT! I grab him and am pulling and he is pulling it and the other coys are on me, they are all over me, WOW WOW, they are tearing on me.
There is light.
Light?
Light, the whole place is full of light! And barking, Culebra barking harder than I have ever heard. I turn away from the fight and I see the lights of the truck, and they are right here, they are practically on top of us. Across the top of the truck comes Culebra soaring through the light, leaping out over the end of the truck onto the ground. She jumps so fast she’s like a bird, and she smashes right into the coys.
They go down in a fast ball of fury, and Culebra is screaming, the coys are gonna get her sure, so I go in and I rip and I snap and I shake and SHAKE
Then wham, Dad is here! Dad is gonna save us! Wham, he has the finger that kills—wham—and in an instant all the coys are gone.
There’s so much light here! I can hardly see you, Dad. Hey, Culebra! Heyhey!
Again the stick goes bang.
It’s me, Dad. Heyhey!
Bang!
He has it in front of his face. “Come, Culebra.” She goes to him. Far off, the cattle are going ooobooo. And I can hear the coys down by the water. They are in the water, they are escaping from Dad.
Bang!
“C’mon, Bob, c’mere.”
Then put that thing down.
Bang!
I gotta run away, you keep that up.
“C’mon, boy, c’mon Bob!’
I want to. I want to so bad. But your voice is scarin’ me, Dad. You’re mad. And I know why. You think I ate on that calf. Go away, Dad. Go away, Culebra.
“Atta boy, stay right there.”
Uh-uh.
“Bob, you stay! The coys are gone, boy. We won't see 'em again tonight.”
I want to, Dad, but I gotta go. ‘Cause you’re real mad at me. I’m confused, I’m scared and so I’m runnin’.
And so is Dad.
You stay away from me, Dad! You go back! You be carrrrrreful! Carrrrreful! I’m gonna bite, I’m gonna bite rrrrrrreal hard, Dad! Harrrrrd!
“C’mon boy, come on home, fella, don't be scared.”
Dad? Is it okay, Dad?
“Bob’s a good dog. C’mon, Bob. Bob’s a good dog!”
Is it okay? Really? I’m waggin’!
“Atta boy, come on!”
But I can't, Dad. I'm tryin', I want to come you say, but I'm lyin' down, Dad. I sorry!
"Oh, hey there, now, Bob. Come on, Dad's gonna carry you. Oh Lord, they tore you right open. Smarter than I thought, damn my eyes. Damn, damn, damn!"
Oh, I'm in our truck now. I smell from far away, smell the long sighing wind. I smell home. I smell Dad and Culebra up front. I hear the cattle down there millin’ and the cow moanin’ for her lost calf. Far off, I hear the whispering movement of them things, goin’ down toward the woods and the wet places where the snakes and the rats live.
The scents of Culebra and Dad are slipping off into far away. But they're right there, so what's happening?
Home, I smell home. I can smell the porch and the barn and our horses. I can smell Mom and just a little, tiny bit I can smell my Buddy.
Buddy?
I’m comin', I smell you, I do! But I gotta stop. I tired. I hurt.
Buddy, come get Bob. Please come get Bob.
"Hey, fella, where you been roamin'?"
BUDDY BUDDY BUDDY
“I thought I’d lost you, Bob! I coulda used you in country, Fella! Never woulda’ gotten my ass sniper shot, I had a dog like you workin’ with me.”
Oh Buddy I am found, I am just wigglin an peein and I hurt and I don’t care, it’s you, it’s my Buddy, my Buddy, I been bad, oh, Buddy forgive me, forgive ole Bob, my Buddy!
“You’re a good dog. Bob is a good dog.”
Buddy, Buddy, Buddy, you smell soooo good!
“I been waitin’ for you, Bob. Can’t travel the high country without my dog.”
Buddy, I was lookin’ and lookin’ and I couldn’t find you. I sorry! I sorry!
“You don’t need to be sorry about nothin’, fella. You’re a good dog.”
I good?
“The best, Bob! You’re the best!”
Uh, then could you get me outa this truck? 'Cause I can't move.
“Sure you can, Bob! Come on up outa that old carcass! Come, Bob!"
How?
"Bob, you come! NOW, BOB!"
I comin' Buddy, I gettin' up.
"Attaboy, Bob! That's a good dog!"
Oh. My.
“We can run these fields, Bob, you an’ me, and sleep side by side when we get tired and be happy all the time! Run with me and play—look what I got, Bob!”
Our Frisbee!
“Atta boy, Bob! Run, Bob! There it goes! Bob, get that thing!”
And Bob ran and will run always in that fine land, he and his Buddy, and their red Frisbee soars so high the birds are concerned, and he leaps into the crystal air, and it feels so good and he stretches his perfect body and opens his jaws, and Bob the dog gets that thing.
Then Buddy laughs and scratches his ears, and they go on, traveling the joyous reaches of dog heaven, which unfold in whatever place a dog's master happens to be, in a little side yard, on a great ranch, in the wild or in the city streets, or in the prairie sky.
For Bob, heaven was Buddy, and for Buddy it was the prairie of his birth and young life. They roamed there then and always, happy in each other's eyes, happy in the land that they loved.