Chapter Twelve: Mom Loses Her Yard
It was one of the most discouraging days of my life. I had a feeling that Mom would want to hear all about it, so I headed back to the old homestead. I put on my best manners and tapped on the gate.
“Mom? You’ll never guess who’s here. Mom?” I tapped and tapped, then banged. Nobody came. Then I noticed a sign hanging on the gate.
WARNING!
This Yard Is Being Used As A
TOXIC WASTE DUMP!!
No Dogs Or Kinfolks Allowed!
Run Before It’s Too Late!!!!!!!
Oh my gosh, what a disaster! They’d turned Mom’s yard into a dump, and I just hoped she got out alive. Surely she did, but I didn’t dare stick around to find out. I ran as fast as my legs would go, before the deadly fumes could get me.
Poor old Mom. She’d always loved her yard. Now she’d have to start all over again somewhere else. Gee, maybe I could find the new place and help her get settled in. Wouldn’t she be thrilled?
Come to think of it, she might not be so thrilled. The last time I’d seen her, she’d been putting out pretty strong hints that she wanted me out. But wait, she’d want to hear about my first day of looking for a job, wouldn’t she? Sure she would. I was still her son.
In a town of two thousand people and dogs, the odds of me finding her weren’t so great, but I had nothing better to do. I walked up and down the alleys, calling, “Mom? Mother? Yoo-hoo, it’s your child, your poor lost lonely child!”
I’d never thought about this before, but when you walk around town yelling “mother,” every mother in town comes at a run, so that turned out to be not such a great idea and I gave it up. Mom would have to go to sleep that night, never knowing that her son had flunked his first job interview.
And maybe his last one, too. It’s very discouraging when you put your very best into an interview and they still turn you down, just because you’re a runt and have a stub tail and sneeze a lot and sometimes walk with a limp. This world can be a pretty cruel place.
By the time darkness fell, I had wandered to the south edge of town. If I kept walking, I would be out in the country and that was no place I wanted to be. I’d never been there, but I could imagine what I might find: lions, tigers, rippopotamuses, effanants, purple gorillas, giant lizards, and fifteen kinds of Night Monsters.
Who needed that? Not me.
I started back toward town, and that’s when I noticed a bunch of trucks and tents sitting in a vacant field. And bright lights and music, nice music. It looked like a happy place, and after a day of heartbreak and failure, I found myself drifting toward it.
I’ll be derned, it was a carnival. Right away, I remembered what Mom had told us kids about carnivals: stay away from ’em, ’cause there’s nothing in a carnival for a nice little doggie.
Mom was right about most things, but you know what? Mom wasn’t around to say no. Hee hee. And if they don’t say no, it means yes.
I have to confess something. Every once in a while I get an urge to be a naughty dog. I mean, I’d spent most of my life being a “nice little doggie,” and what had it gotten me? Kicked out of my yard and out on the street without a job is what it had gotten me. And all of a sudden, I felt an urge to walk on the Wild Side.
I walked into the carnival. Boy, what an exciting place. Loud music, bright lights, kids eating pink stuffy stuck on a stiff . . . pink fluffy stuff on a stick, and people throwing baseballs at a target. Everybody was laughing and having fun, and all at once I forgot all my troubles and cares.
So there I was, walking and gawking my way through this amazing place, when I came to a tent with a big banner above the entrance. It showed this enormous snake, and I mean ENORMOUS, twenty-five-feet long and as big around as a tree. It had something in its mouth but you couldn’t tell what it was, ’cause the snake had swallowed everything but two back legs.
I moved closer for a better look. It was pretty spooky. Oh, and there was a sign in big red letters that said, “DOG-EATING ANACONDA!!”
Just then, I heard a voice. “Pssssst! You there, come ’ere!”
I glanced around and saw a dog, peeking his head out of the tent. “Were you talking to me?”
“Yeah. Come ’ere.”
He stepped out of the tent and I could see that he was one of those Doberman pinscher dogs—tall, thin, slick-haired, and pretty handsome but with a toothy smile. Big white teeth. I didn’t care for his eyes. They were greenish and had a kind of cunning flash.
As I walked over to him, he seemed to be sizing me up. He nodded and said, “Yeah!”
“Hi there. I’m Drover. What’s your name?”
“Everybody calls me Slick. How’s it going, kid? You like the carnival? Having fun? What a place, huh?” He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Hey, what’s this? You look sad. Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re out on your own, first day in the world?”
“Well . . .”
“And things aren’t going so great? The world’s a big place and not so friendly? How’m I doing so far?”
“Well . . .”
“I knew it.” He gazed up at the sky. “Let’s see . . . bad day, discouraged, down in the dumps. Nobody’s looking for another mutt, am I right?”
“Well . . .”
He moved closer and whispered, “They just don’t understand who you really are, Rover. They just don’t get it.”
“It’s Drover, with a D.”
“They don’t understand that you’re a little dog with big dreams that some day you’ll become . . . help me here. What’s your big dream?”
“Oh, I dream about bones sometimes.”
His smile faded. “Don’t tell me about bones. I’m talking about the Big Dream, the what’s-deep-inside-you kind of dream, what you’d be if you could make a wish.”
“Oh, that one.”
“See? I knew it. Now, uh, help me here. What was that wish?” He cocked his ear and waited.
“Well . . . you’d probably think it was silly.”
“Oh no, no, no! Look at all this, kid.” He swept a paw toward the carnival. “It’s one big dream in lights and music. That’s our business, dreams.”
“Oh. You work in the carnival?”
“Right. Now, you were saying?”
“Well . . . I’ve always thought it might be fun to be a handsome prince.”
He flashed an ivory smile. “A handsome prince! Oh, perfect, great dream!”
Just then, another dog came out of the tent. This one was a little guy, one of those mutts with short legs and hair all over his face. He spoke to Slick. “You got one yet?”
Slick placed a paw on my shoulder. “Shorty, meet Rover, my new buddy.”
“It’s Drover, with a D.”
“He wants to become a handsome prince!”
Shorty broke out in a cackling laugh. “Ha ha ha! That’s a new one. Handsome prince! Ha ha ha ha!”
Slick glared at Shorty and used a hind leg to push him back into the tent. “Don’t pay any attention to Shorty. He ain’t too smart. Now, where were we? Oh yes, handsome prince.” He glanced over both shoulders and whispered, “You won’t believe this, kid, but this carnival has a training program for handsome princes.”
“No fooling? But I thought Shorty said, ‘That’s a new one.’”
“What? Oh no, no, no, no. What he said was, ‘I knew one.’ See, he knew a dog who went through our Handsome Prince Program. Me, why, I’ve known dozens of them.”
“Gosh, no fooling?”
“No fooling.” He whispered behind his paw. “Dogs from all over Texas come here to learn Handsome Princing. This is the place, kid, believe me.”
“I’ll be derned.”
He studied the claws on his right front foot. “So, uh, what do you say? Can we sign you up?”
“Well . . .”
“Hey, I’ll make it easy. You don’t even have to sign up. Just step inside the tent,” he pushed open the tent flap, “and we’ll start your training.” He flashed his broad toothy smile.
“Well, I have a question.”
His eyes drifted. “Great, we love questions.”
“What’s an anaconda?”