Chapter Twelve: This Ending Will Knock Your Socks Off

Walking with My Honey

Walking along, just my honey and me, on a warm sunny winter’s day.

Walking her home, just the two of us, having fun along the way.

I give her a wink, she gives me a smile,

I want to stretch it out another country mile.

Walking with my honey back to Coyote Town, everything’s going to be okay.

Walking along, Missy Coyote and me, I’ve got a feeling that is hard to believe.

I feel ten feet tall and eight feet deep, and, man, it’s getting harder to breathe!

She’s walking her dog, I’m walking my sweet,

We can hear the little birdies singing “tweet, tweet, tweet.”

Walking with my honey back to Coyote Town and wishing she’d never leave.

Walking along just as slow as we can, did I notice that she gave me a grin?

I think she did and it’s plain to see that Hank’s about to win.

How ’bout a little kiss? It’ll never show.

Your cannibal brother doesn’t need to know.

Walking with my honey back to Coyote Town, and hoping it’ll never end.

Pretty incredible love song, huh? You bet. It was certainly one of the best I’d ever composed and performed for a lovely lady. But the question remained—would it sweep Missy Coyote completely off her feet and cause her to smother me with love and kisses?

I heaved a sigh and looked deeply into her . . . you know, there’s something a little unsettling about a woman with yellow eyes. Let’s be frank. I had looked into the yellow eyes of her brothers, cousins, and cannibal friends, and hadn’t exactly been warmed by the experience. Her yellow eyes brought back a rush of memories that weren’t so sweet, memories that caused the hair along my spine to stand up, and little termites of fear to crawl on the back of my neck.

On the other hand, I wasn’t the kind of dog who allowed himself to be a slave to first impressions. So she had yellow eyes that were . . . well, a little creepy? I was mature enough to look deeper, and to see the goodness and beauty that dwelled below the surface.

Anyway, I looked deeply into her unblinking yellow gaze. “Well, Missy, what do you say about that? Great song, huh?”

She gave me a shy smile. “So Hunk want kiss from Missy?”

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. “Well, I suppose . . . yes! Absolutely.”

She glanced over her shoulders. “What about Scraunch?”

“He’s your brother, Missy, but that doesn’t mean I want to kiss him.”

“No, no. What if Scraunch come along and see us?”

At that very moment, guess who showed up, squeaking and hopping around. Drover. “Hank, we need to talk!”

“Some other time. I’m busy.”

“C-c-coyotes!”

“Of course she’s a coyote.”

Suddenly Missy whirled around and whispered, “Hunk must leave! Scraunch coming!”

HUH?

I turned and saw . . . YIPES!! Fifteen big scruffy cannibals came boiling over the top of a little hill. They saw us and let out a chorus of blood-chilling howls. In the lead was Missy’s . . . gulp . . . have we ever described Scraunch? Big guy, real big. Huge. Jaws like a bear trap, teeth like a shark, eyes that glowed in the dark.

Gulp.

I turned back to Missy. “Would you think it cowardly of me if I, uh, left you here? I mean, we have cattle to feed and patrols to do.”

“Hunk leave now! Run!”

“Well, if you’re sure . . .”

She leaned forward and planted a delicious kiss on my mouth. “Hunk go back to ranch now! Run, run, run!”

For a moment, I was lost in a fog of perfume, but then . . . uh oh, the mob was coming closer. They were yelling, hooting, and howling about all the terrible things they were going to inflict on my . . .

“Drover, I don’t want to alarm you, but we need to be leaving.”

“Help! This leg’s killing me!

“On the count of three, we will launch all dogs and set a speed course back to the pickup. Ready? One!”

ZOOM!

He was gone, a little white rocket moving across the prairie at the speed of light. And there was nothing wrong with his leg.

I tossed one last wistful gaze at my coyote princess, faced into the wind, and went to Full Throttle on all engines. I left my True Love in a cloud of dust, and left the coyote army choking on the fumes of my rocket engines.

Slim was driving away when we got there and maybe he thought he was going to leave us afoot. Ha! There was no chance of that, not with Scraunch and all his buddies on our trail. No sir. I barked and dived in front of the pickup and even threatened to rip off the tires if he didn’t pull that thing over. I guess that scared him pretty badly, and finally he stopped and got out.

Of course he had to make a few smart remarks. “I ain’t running a taxi service. You want a ride or not?”

Oh yes, no question about that . . . and could we hurry?

“Well, you ain’t riding up front with me. Get in the back.”

Fine. No problem there. Who wanted to ride in that head-chopping pickup anyway? Not me.

He let down the tailgate and we dogs went flying into the back, ran straight to the front and went into our Bunker Positions. I didn’t figure the coyotes would jump into the back of a pickup, but a dog should never take chances. When in doubt, head for the bunkers.

But you’ll be proud to know that once we got moving, I climbed out of my bunker and delivered one last barrage of barking to the coyotes.

“Hey, Scraunch, I kissed your sister! What do you say about that, huh? And next time, I’ll kiss her twice, and if you don’t like it, you can go sit on a tack! Ha.”

It was a huge moral victory for the Security Division, which only goes to prove . . . well, if you’re going to mouth off to a cannibal, do it from a moving pickup.

When we got back to headquarters, Slim kicked us out. “I’ve got three more pastures to feed and y’all can’t go. Too many clowns can spoil a circus. When I get my old pickup back, we’ll be hiring dogs again.”

Gee, what got him in such a snit? Oh well.

For two long days, Slim fed cattle by himself. Then, on Wednesday morning, he left the ranch at 6:30, drove the Booby-Trapped Pickup into town, and returned around 9:00, driving the old junk heap we had all come to love and respect. It smelled bad, it smoked and wheezed, it rattled and clanged, but it was our old pickup—and it didn’t have guillotine windows.

And that’s about it. Drover and I got our jobs back and Slim got his dogs back. I had survived the Booby-Trapped Pickup, won the heart of Missy Coyote, and cleaned house on the entire Coyote Army. Oh, happy day! Life was good again.

Fellers, it doesn’t get any better than that. This case is closed.