Cat to the Dogs Read Online Free PDF Page B

starving puppies, you don’t bother to find water for them, and then you—”
    â€œAnd you,” Joe shouted, “you don’t stop to wonder where they came from, you just bang open the front door and invite them right on in when they’re probably full of ringworm and mange.”
    â€œ I didn’t bring them home.”
    â€œAnd now you won’t listen when I try to tell you something important.”
    During this exchange, old Rube had risen from the kitchen linoleum and taken his aged black Labrador body into the laundry. Lying on the bottom bunk, he growled at the pups with a menace that drove them back into the adjoining kitchen.
    The bottom half of the two-tiered bunk belonged to Rube, the top half to the cats. From there, the white cat peered down suspiciously. The other two household cats had fled out Rube’s dog door to hide in the backyard; they were used to quiet dogs but didn’t take happily to big boisterous puppies.
    The pups, abandoning Rube and his uncertain temper, returned all their attention to Clyde, their forepaws on the kitchen table, barking in his face.
    Clyde opened the lower cupboard and hauled out a fifty-pound bag of kibble.
    â€œDon’t feed them too much. You’ll make them sick.”
    â€œThey’re starving, Joe.”
    â€œFeed them too much and they’ll throw it all up.”
    â€œDon’t be silly. They’ll only eat what they need.”
    Joe headed for the bedroom, where he could find some privacy with the telephone. He had started to paw in the number of the police station when Clyde strode in and unplugged the cord.
    Joe stared at him.
    â€œLeave it, Joe. Those guys don’t need your help to find a cut brake line.”
    â€œAnd if they miss it?”
    â€œI’ll find out from Harper.”
    Silence from the kitchen. The puppies had stopped chomping and smacking. Joe could hear them licking up the last crumbs, then heard them drinking again. Clyde said, “How many people in the car? Are you sure it was a ’67 Corvette?”
    â€œOf course I’m sure. I’ve been force-fed on your antique car trivia most of my natural life. I know a ’67 Corvette as well as I know the back of my paw. There was just the driver. Dead on impact. Maybe from multiple contusions, maybe from a strip of metal stabbed through him, maybe a combination. A man I’ve never seen. Went over just at that double curve, driving south. Lost most of the fluid before the second curve. I was hunting down in the canyon, heard a skid, and that baby came over the bank like a bombdumped from a B-27, fell right at me. If I wasn’t so lightning fast, it would have creamed me.” He gave Clyde a yellow-eyed scowl. “That car could have killed a poor little cat, careening down into that gully, and what would you care?”
    â€œYou look all right to me. You shouldn’t have been hunting in Hellhag Canyon. You know how the tides come up.”
    â€œThat’s typical. I’m nearly killed, and all you can do is find fault.”
    Two wrenching, gurgling heaves from the kitchen silenced them.
    They returned to face two huge piles of doggy kibble steaming on the kitchen floor. The pups, having disgorged the contents of their stomachs, began to bark at the mess and then to lick it. Clyde shouted at them, swinging the kibble bag; the smaller pup, startled, yipped as though he’d been struck. Both pups raced around the kitchen barking. Clyde, trying to clean up the mess, yelled and swore to drive them out of his way. Joe, nearly trampled, leaped to the sink and let out a bloodcurdling yowl.
    â€œPut leashes on them, Clyde. Take them out to the car. Take them to the pound—that’s why I brought them home! So you could take them to the pound!”
    This wasn’t completely true, but he’d lost all patience. Couldn’t Clyde handle two baby dogs? “Take them to the pound,