Lost in the Dark Unchanted Forest Read Free

And Molly, this is Hank. Hank, I want you to take good care of little Miss Molly. She’s a real treasure.”
    I eased my nose towards the face and sniffed it several times. Okay, what we had here was a human baby child, a girl named Molly. She belonged to Sally May and Loper, and right then and there I took an oath to protect and defend her against monsters, snakes, and other crawling things. Even bobcats.
    And to seal the oath, I licked her on the face. For some reason, the little creature let out a squall.
    Sally May must not have understood the im­portance of this gesture or the seriousness of the occasion, for she jerked the baby back and shrieked at me.
    â€œDON’T LICK MY BABY, YOU MORON!” Then Loper came thundering up. “Hank, for crying out loud, don’t lick the baby!”
    I tucked my tail between my legs and re­treated a few steps, and then Drover, the little goof, said, “You better not lick the baby.”
    I glared at him. “Drover, you needn’t repeat the obvious.”
    â€œYeah, but you licked her on the face with your tongue and that’s not nice.”
    â€œWould it have been nicer if I’d licked her on the foot with my ear?”
    He rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t know about that.”
    â€œThe answer is no, it wouldn’t have been nicer. It would have been impossible. Her foot was covered up and my ears don’t lick. I did what I could do with what I had, and no dog could have done more than that.”
    â€œYeah, but you could have done less.”
    â€œExactly my point. And now we come to the final summation of everything I’ve been saying.”
    â€œOh good. What is it?”
    â€œShut your little trap.”
    â€œOh, well that sure sums it up.”
    Sally May carried her baby into the house and Loper followed with a bunch of suitcases and bags. They left Little Alfred, who was four years old, out in the yard. He was wearing a pair of striped overalls and had his hands stuck in the pockets.
    Also, I noticed that his lower lip was sticking out. He didn’t look very happy, seemed to me, and I went over to cheer him up. He kicked a rock and looked at me.
    â€œI don’t wike that baby. I want to take her back to the hospito.”
    Well, I had a little talk with the boy and tried to explain things to him. Me and Alfred were special pals, see. I’d helped raise the boy and we’d always been able to talk things over.
    â€œSon,” I said, “I know that your little sister ain’t very pretty right now, and she makes a lot of noise, but she’ll grow out of it and one of these days you’ll be proud to have her on the place.”
    â€œNo I won’t. You don’t care about me and you’re not my fwiend anymore and I don’t wike you either. And I’m going to hit you.”
    I wagged my tail and tried to . . . 
    Would you believe it? The little snot slapped me right across the nose! If anybody else had done that, fellers, I would have removed his arm and half a leg. But you might recall that, many years before, I had taken the Cowdog Oath and sworn never to bite a child—even one that deserved it.
    So I didn’t bite him. And he hit me again. And then he grabbed my tail and started dragging me around the yard. I had seen him do this to Pete the Barncat on several occasions and had, well, enjoyed it, you might say.
    But that had been a different deal entirely. When he’d been dragging Pete around, that had been good wholesome entertainment because, after all, what else is a cat good for? But this time, with me on the short end of the stick, so to speak, it hurt .
    Oh, it did hurt! My tail is a very sensitive and expressive communication device, and it was never intended to be pecked by chickens, stepped on by cowboys, or pulled by bratty little boys. I mean, Alfred was putting my Cowdog Oath to the test, and if I’d had just a smidgen less of iron