The Mopwater Files Read Online Free PDF Page A

mean, I was burning up with vitality.
    Drover whined for me to let him up, so I did and began looking around for another, shall we say, sparring partner. My eyes fell upon Pete, who had ventured outside Sally May’s yard and was slinking across the gravel drive.
    Heh, heh.
    I threw all engines into Fast Forward, spun my paws on the gravel, and went roaring after Pre­cious Kitty. He knew something was up. Perhaps he saw the fire in my eyes. He stopped in his tracks, humped his back, and began to hiss.
    Heh, heh. Bad move.
    Just before I got there, he figured out the obvious, that his hissing couldn’t stop a freight train. He sold out and ran to the nearest tree.

    On another occasion, he would have been safe in a tree—and as a matter of fact, on reaching the first limb, he turned a haughty little smirk at me and stuck out his tongue.
    Ha, ha! Little did he know. I didn’t stop at the base of the tree, fellers. I climbed that rascal, which caused panic and pandabearium amongst the kitties, so to speak. He screeched and hissed and climbed higher.
    I followed. This was fun. I had never climbed a tree before. Whooo-pee! What a lark. Pete scratched and clawed his way out to the tiny branches at the end of a limb, and I . . . hmm, sort of ran out of structural support for my enormous body, you might say, and fell out of the tree.
    Good thing old Slim was down there, greasing the trailer bearings, otherwise I might have hit the ground with a thud, but he was there and I landed on his head.
    Boy, was he shocked. What a riot. Hat, glasses, bearings, and grease flew in all directions. That woke him up, I’ll bet.
    Whilst he stared at me with wide eyes, I gave him a huge lick on the face and went bounding away to find another source of entertainment.
    â€œGood honk,” I heard him say, “I just got hit by a falling dog!”
    Right-toe! And I was just getting warmed up.
    It was my good fortune just then to see seven pecking chickens up ahead of me. How perfect! You know how much I love to bulldoze chickens. It’s one of the greatest thrills this life has to offer, even better than treeing cats, because the chickens flutter and flap and make a lot more noise than a cat.
    ZOOM! SQUAWK, BAWK, BAWK, KA-BAWK!
    Wow. It was great. Wonderful. Terrific. Feathers and chickens flew in all directions. It was one of the most meaningful experiences of my entire career.
    The only trouble was that it ended in a matter of seconds, and once you’ve scattered all the chickens, fellers, it’s hard to go back to life’s dull routines.
    I trotted past Slim and gave him a big grin. He was trying to wipe the axle grease off his glasses and he didn’t look too happy about it.
    â€œYou dufus dog, what were you doing up in that tree?”
    He would never understand. Nobody would under­stand. I had just discovered a secret energy source and had transformed myself into Turbo Pooch—half dog and half bulldozer.
    As I approached Drover, he began backing away. “Hank, something’s come over you. I think that grasshopper must have been eating dynamite and gasoline. I’ve never seen you act this way before. I’m kind of worried about you.”
    â€œHa. Don’t worry about me, kid. Worry about the rest of the world. Come on, let’s wrestle some more. Let’s go a few rounds of boxing. Let’s run a five-mile race. Let’s tear down a few trees.”
    He kept backing away. “You know, Hank, I’d love to do all that, but it’s awful hot and this old leg’s sure been giving me fits.”
    â€œYeah? Well, let’s just yank it off.” His eyes crossed. I laughed. “Just kidding, Drover. Don’t be so serious. Relax and enjoy life.”
    â€œHow can I relax when you’re acting so weird?”
    â€œI don’t know, pard. As a matter of fact, I’m having a little trouble relaxing myself. I mean, one hour ago I could hardly stay awake.