That was really weird, but never mind. Since I wasn’t allowed inside the yard, I had to do my observing from outside, and here’s what I saw. Alfred and Sally May pounded a metal post into the ground, just below the kitchen window. On top of the post was a piece of flat metal, a kind of platform, and on that platform they placed a little wooden house. It was about two feet long and one foot wide, and had the kind of slanted roof that you find on ordinary houses where people live.
You’re probably wondering why they had put a little house on top of a metal stake. I wondered about that, too. I mean, it looked like a house but a house for what? I activated Visual Scanners and took a closer look.
Hmmm. This was interesting. Sally May removed the roof of the little house and poured something inside, and you’ll never guess what it was. Give up?
Birdseed.
Yes sir, birdseed, and that gave me the clue I needed to crack this mystery. See, it looked like a house, but it was actually a bird feeder in the shape of a house, and that’s why she poured birdseed inside. Just follow the logic on this: seed-feed-feeder.
At that moment, Drover, my assistant, joined me. “Gosh, what a cute little house. Who’s going to live in it?”
“Nobody’s going to live in it, because it’s not a house. It’s a bird feeder.”
“They’re feeding the birds?”
“Correct, and don’t ask me why.”
He gave it a closer look. “How come they’re feeding birds?”
“I just told you not to ask.”
“Sorry. You don’t know?”
“I have no idea. Why would anyone put out feed for birds? If you feed them, they’ll hang around.”
He sat down and scratched a spot on his ribs. “Well, maybe Sally May likes to watch the birds while she’s working in the kitchen.”
“Maybe so, but it seems a foolish waste of time. Why would she want to watch a bunch of sniveling birds when she could watch . . . well, us for example?”
He gave me a silly grin. “Well, we don’t do much.”
“You don’t do much. For your information, I put in eighteen hours a day on this ranch, but do these people ever take the time to watch me? Do they notice all the things I do to keep this outfit running? Oh no, they want to watch birds.”
“Well, birds are kind of pretty. Oh look.” He pointed toward the yard. Sally May and Alfred had gone back into the house, and a bird had come to the feeder. “It’s a cardinal.”
I squinted toward the feeder. “That bird isn’t a cardinal, he’s a moocher. He’s stealing birdseed.”
“Well, I think the whole idea is for the birds to eat the seeds.”
I glared down at the runt. “Drover, the bird is a moocher. Furthermore, he makes noise, and I don’t like birds. If you want to sit here and watch moocher-birds all day, that’s fine, but I have a ranch to run.”
I whirled away and left him sitting in the shubbles of his own rubble. The very idea! I mean, who has time to sit around and watch a bunch of little tweet-tweets stealing birdseed? Not me.
But you know what? I found myself watching them anyway and, just as I expected, what I saw really got under my skin—a constant parade of cardinals, twitteries, tweeties, sparrows, and other birds with two wings and a beak. Dozens of birds. I didn’t want to get involved in a bird situation, but those bums were stealing us blind and someone needed to do something.
So I did what any normal American dog would have done. I went back to the yard fence, set up a firing position near the gate, and made preparations to bark at the birds. For some reason, Drover began backing away, then vanished like a puff of smoke. That was fine. I didn’t want him distracting me when I began lobbing Mortar Barks at the feeder.
My barrage of barking worked like a charm. After five minutes of steady barking, I had cut the crime rate by 63 percent. Another thirty minutes, and I would have . . .
The back door opened, and out stepped Sally May. Good. She had seen my work, and I knew that she would be . . .
“Hank, stop barking at the birds!”
Huh?
“You’re scaring them away.”
Well, sure, but that was the whole point. See . . .
“Find something else to do, and leave my birds alone.” Slam! She went back into the house.
Well, what do you say? I couldn’t think of anything. It left me speechless. She didn’t seem to understand what was going on in her own yard. I was about to leave the promises . . . the premises, let us say . . . I was about to leave the premises of the promises when something else caught my eye.
It had four legs, hair, and a tail. It was rubbing its way down the fence, and it wore an annoying smirk on its mouth. You’ll never guess what it was.
A cat.
Chapter Two: I Steal a Great Idea from the Cat
I wasn’t in the mood for Pete. I’m very seldom in the mood for Pete, but here he came. I braced myself for his usual greeting: “My, my, it’s Hankie the Wonderdog!”
But that’s not what he said. In a fairly civil tone of voice, he said, “Well, good morning, Hank.”
For the second time in a span of mere minutes, I found myself speechless. But also suspicious. Why would Pete, a professional smart aleck, call me by my proper name and wish me good morning? It didn’t add up. I mean, we’ve discussed my Position on Cats, right? I don’t like ’em, never have, and I had plenty of reason to think that Pete didn’t like me either.
What was going on here?
I studied him with a wary eye as he came sliding down the fence. He stopped, sat down, curled his tail around his body, and said, “I saw what happened.”
“Oh? Well, I’m sure you enjoyed watching me get scolded by the lady of the house. That’s okay, laugh it up, I don’t care.”
“Actually . . . no. I thought it was unfair.”
That word caused me to flinch. “You thought it was unfair? Ha ha. Sorry, Kitty, but I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true. I sensed that you were trying to help.”
“Of course I was trying to help. For the past hour, those birds have been stealing grain.”
He turned his gaze toward the sky. “I know, Hankie, and you were probably concerned about how much it’s costing the ranch.”
“You bet I was. I mean, to save money, Loper just switched me over to Cheapo dog food, yet those birds are gobbling down expensive birdseed like there’s no tomorrow. Within a week, this ranch could be in trouble. It all comes down to management, Pete. If you don’t control expenses, you’re going broke.”
He gave his head a sad shake. “See? I understand that. It’s simple accounting, isn’t it?”
“Right. You’ve got your debbles and your crebbles. If the two columns don’t match, you’re going broke and don’t know it. Mark my words, Pete, those birds are going to get this ranch into serious financial problems.”
“I couldn’t agree more, Hankie.” He studied his paw for a moment. “I don’t understand why Sally May pampers them so.”
“Great