The Mopwater Files Read Free

was Sally May, working and slaving in the hot sun; digging holes and planting tender little shrubberies and flowers around the yard fence. And what was the mainest threat to her tender little shrubberies and flowers and plants?
    Grasshoppers.
    You work and slave to put out your stuff, and the minute you walk away, the grasshoppers move in and start mowing ’em down. They’re a plague, a pestilence, a minutes to society, and they’ve been known to break the heart of many a courageous ranch wife.
    As Head of Ranch Security, I considered it my duty—nay, my privilege—to rush to the defense of my master’s wife and to protect her yard and greenery from all villains, monsters, and pests.
    And especially the hated grasshoppers.
    I was the first to arrive on the scene. I did a quick visual sweep and . . . hmmm, there was her cat lurking nearby. When our eyes met, he arched his back and hissed.
    Why? It had nothing to do with fear. Pete wasn’t smart enough to be afraid of a dog. No, he hissed out of sheer spite and jealousy. See, he thinks he’s Sally May’s precious kitty and he can’t stand the thought of sharing her attention with anyone else.
    So he hissed at me. Perhaps he thought this would throw me into an inflammation; that I would bark and give him the pounding he deserved, and that Sally May would rush to his defense.
    He thought, in other words, that he could use a cheap cat trick to get me in trouble with the lady of the house, but Pete had used that trick too often in the past and it happened that I was prepared for it.
    Hencely, instead of barking and causing a scene, I gave him a, shall we say, toothy smile. I thought that would be the end of it. I was wrong. It turned out to be just the beginning.

Chapter Three: I’m Forced to Humble the Cat

    â€œH i Kitty. It’s so nice to see you again.”
    â€œI don’t think you mean that, Hankie.”
    â€œOf course I mean it. A day without a cat is like a picnic without flies—imperfect and incom­plete.”
    â€œVery funny, Hankie, but I think you’d better move along. I’m helping Sally May plant flowers and we don’t need you blundering around.”
    Drover had joined me by then and I turned to him. “Hey Drover, did you hear that?”
    â€œHear what?”
    â€œPete just informed me that he’s helping Sally May.”
    â€œI’ll be derned. What a nice kitty.”
    â€œYou missed the point, Drover. It was a stupid statement and a typical cat lie. Cats never help anyone but themselves.”
    â€œOh yeah. Boy, what a stapid stutement.”
    â€œExactly. Have you ever heard a stapider stute­ment in your life?”
    â€œWell . . . what’s a stutement?”
    I heaved a sigh. “Drover, please. I’m trying to build my case against this cat. It’s very simple. It’s very easy. All you have to do is give the correct answer, which is no.”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œOh, so now you’re refusing to obey orders, is that right? I’ve been noticing this little rebellious streak in you, Drover, and I can tell you that it’s going to cause you nothing but trouble.”
    â€œI just gave you the right answer, that’s all. You said the answer was no and I said no.”
    â€œOh. Well, perhaps . . .” I whirled around and faced the cat. He had moved. I marched over to him. “There, you see, Pete? An impartial panel of two dogs agrees that your studer was stapled and . . .” Suddenly I had lost the thread of my argu­ment. I whirled back to Drover. “Drover, what was the point we were trying to make?”
    â€œGosh, I don’t know. I’m all confused. Some­thing about grasshoppers, I think.”
    â€œYes, of course.” I whirled back to the cat. “You see, Kitty, if you were really and truly trying to help Sally May with her planting chores, you would be catching grasshoppers.”
    The cat