Rootin' Tootin' Cow Dog

by Nancy Krulik

  Thud! I land on the ground. That hurt!

  “Sparky!” I hear Rex bark. “This way!”

  I follow Rex through the crowd of people. I don’t stop to pick up any more food. I just keep running.

  Rex darts up some stairs. So I dart up some stairs.

  He leaps up on a hard chair.

  I leap up beside him. And then, suddenly, the chair begins to move.

  It whirls. It twirls. It turns on its side.

  SOMEBODY STOP THIS CRAZY THING!

  CHAPTER 4

  Wiggle, waggle, whoa!

  The chair has stopped spinning. But it feels like everything is still going around and around.

  Rex leaps off the chair. He starts to walk away.

  I start to follow Rex. Wiggle, waggle, whoops!

  I fall down onto my belly.

  My legs try to stand. But they’re all wobbly.

  Wiggle, waggle, whoops . . . again. I fall back down onto my belly. Now everything around me is spinning. My stomach is swishing and swashing and . . .

  Uh-oh! BLEHHHH! All the food that was inside me is now outside me.

  Two-legs leap out of the way. Some cover their noses with their paws.

  I don’t blame them. That food smelled a lot better going in than it did flying out. But I feel better now. Slowly, I stand up. My legs don’t wobble. They work just fine.

  My nose works just fine, too. It knows I stink.

  Just then I spot some horses drinking water from a giant wooden bowl. That bowl is big enough to fit a whole puppy. Hmmm. I don’t usually like baths. But . . .

  Splash!

  I jump into the big water bowl. I wiggle to the right. I waggle to the left. I wash that yuck right off of me.

  NEIGH!

  Uh-oh! Those horses don’t sound happy.

  “Hey, Rex!” I call as I leap out of the bowl and shakity, shake, shake the water from my fur. “Wait for me!”

  “That moving chair was awful,” I tell Rex as we walk around the rodeo a little while later.

  “The Tilt-A-Whirl takes some getting used to,” Rex agrees. “Sorry you got sick.”

  “Do you think there’s more food at the midway?” I ask. “I want to put some of that barbecue back in my tummy.”

  “Sure,” Rex says. “There’s always food at the midway.”

  “You’re so lucky to live at the rodeo,” I tell him.

  Rex gives me a funny look. “I don’t live at the rodeo,” he says. “It’s just in town for a few weeks. After that I go back to searching for food on my own.”

  “Do you have a two-leg to live with?” I ask him.

  Rex shakes his head. “I’m kind of a maverick. Been on my own ever since I can remember. It’s fine while the rodeo’s in town. But once the cowboys and four-legs go, it gets pretty lonely around these parts.”

  “What happens to the rodeo after it leaves here?”

  Rex shrugs. “I guess the two-legs set it up in another town and do their rodeo jobs there, till they move on again.”

  “Jobs are really important,” I say. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “You want a job at the rodeo?” Rex asks.

  I shake my head. “I need to learn a job I can do when I’m home. Otherwise Josh will get another dog. And I’ll be a maverock, too.”

  “Maverick,” Rex corrects me. “But I don’t see how having a job will keep your Josh from getting another dog.”

  “If I have a job, Josh will need me,” I explain. “Like Samson’s two-leg needs him to get his slippers.”

  Rex gives me a funny look. “I don’t know what slippers are. Or who Samson is. But that’s not a bad idea. I wonder if there’s a job for me here at the rodeo. If I had a job, they’d have to take me with them when the rodeo moved on.”

  “Are there dogs at the rodeo?” I ask him.

  “A few,” Rex says. “Mostly there are cows, goats, sheep, and horses. But there’s nothing they can do that a dog can’t. I’m telling ya, Sparky, I’d be happier than a gopher in soft dirt if I could stay with the rodeo.”

  I’m about to ask Rex what that means, when out of nowhere I hear a lot of two-legs shouting. Luckily, they don’t sound mad. Just excited.

  I turn around to see a mini two-leg riding on top of a shaggy four-leg. The four-leg is kicking his back paws in the air and wiggling his rear end.

  “That there’s the mutton-bustin’ competition in the kiddy ring,” Rex says. “Those sheep sure get mad when the mini two-legs try to ride ’em.”

  Baaaa, baaa, baaa.

  That’s a strange sound. I’ve never heard anything like it before. But it sure is loud.

  BAM! Suddenly, a gate bursts open. A whole crowd of curly furred sheep bust their way into the ring.

  “Uh-oh,” Rex says. “That wasn’t supposed to happen. It’s supposed to only be one sheep and one two-leg at a time.”

  I guess nobody told the sheep that, because there are a whole lot of them in that ring.

  AAAHHHHH! I hear the little two-leg shout. I think he’s scared of all those sheep.

  A group of two-legs leap into the ring. They’re trying to catch the sheep.

  BAAAAAA! The sheep are trying not to get caught.

  Wiggle, waggle, wheeeeee!

  Just then, I take a flying leap right over the fence. Why did I do that?

  Now I’m running in circles, too. I’m trying to get those sheep to bunch together. Wait, what am I doing?

  “Move, sheep!” I call.

  The sheep all turn and stare at me.

  Baaa, baaa! Some of them huddle together. I think they are scared of me.

  A few sheep are still running around by themselves. I don’t want them to do that. I want them to be near the other sheep.

  I don’t know why I want that. But I do.

  I nip at the heels of one of the loose sheep. Nip, nip, nip.

  Baaa! Baaa! He doesn’t like that.

  I nudge him with my nose. Nudge, nudge, nudge.

  The sheep hurries over to his friends.

  Another sheep follows after him. And another. And another. Now all the sheep are huddled together. How did I know how to do that?

  THUD! Just then, the mini two-leg falls off the back of the sheep he was riding.

  One of the big two-legs picks up the crying mini two-leg. He gives him a ride on his back as they leave the ring. That makes him feel better.

  The sheep the mini two-leg was riding is running freely around the ring.

  I need to get that one last sheep to join his friends.

  “Move it!” I bark. I nip at his heels. I nudge him with my snout. “Go!”

  And he goes.

  Yes! That’s right. I’m in charge of this ring!

  Or maybe I’m not. There are two-legs running around the ring. Now they’re chasing after me!

  I can’t let them catch me.

  My paws run. Fast. Faster. Fas—

  Uh-oh. I can’t run any farther. The big herd of sheep is blocking my way.

  “Move, sheep!” I bark. And the sheep start to move.

  We all move through a gate. And then . . .

  SLAM! The door shuts.

  Baaa! Baaa!

  The sheep sound mad. I don’t think they like being stuck inside a cage.

  And I don’t like being stuck inside a cage with a bunch of angry sheep.

  This is baa-baa-bad.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Help me, Rex!” I shout from inside the cage. “Get me out of here.”

  I’m not sure if Rex can hear me. After all, he’s outside the cage, and I’m inside. And there’s all this baa, baa, baaing going on.

  “REX!” I shout again. “HELP!”

  “Sparky, can you hear me?” Rex yells back.
<
br />   “Yes!”

  “I see cowboys over yonder,” Rex tells me. “They’re getting water for the sheep. When they bring the water in, you run out. Just don’t let ’em catch you.”

  Easy for him to say.

  The cage door opens. One of the two-legs walks in. He’s got an upside-down bowl on his head and a right-side-up bowl of water in his hands.

  Now’s my chance!

  I put my head down and plow through the sea of curly furred sheep.

  I slam into one sheep and push her to the side.

  I scramble around another.

  And I squeeze my way between two more.

  Then, finally, I make my way out the door.

  Wiggle, waggle, whee! I’m free!

  A moment later, my buddy Rex is at my side. He has a big smile on his face. “You were amazing in that ring,” he tells me. “Only a sheepdog could herd sheep like that.”

  “You heard the same sheep I heard,” I say.

  Rex laughs. “I meant that I’ve never seen anyone get sheep to move as a group the way you did. I don’t know how the sheep all got loose like that. Those cowboys sure were lucky you were there to help get the sheep back in their pen.”

  I don’t understand. I really didn’t do anything. I just ran. And that made the sheep run. I didn’t realize getting sheep to run was a job. Too bad we don’t have any sheep at home.

  Suddenly, my tongue pops out of my mouth. It just hangs there. Then my mouth starts panting.

  “I think we oughta find you some water,” Rex says to me. “You’re lookin’ mighty dry.”

  Rex leads me over to a group of some of the strangest two-legs I’ve ever seen.

  “There’s always chow and cold water at the clown chuck wagon,” Rex tells me. “Rodeo clowns know how to eat. Let’s see if we can rustle up some scraps,” Rex says.

  These two-legs are wearing the same giant upside-down food bowls on their heads as the other two-legs I’ve seen here at the rodeo. And they’ve got the same pointy paws.

  But these two-legs have very strange noses. They look like red balls in the middle of their faces. The kind of balls Josh and I use to play fetch.

  Even stranger, these two-legs have big smiles on their faces. Usually, that wouldn’t be strange. Two-legs smile just like dogs do. But these smiles are huge. And they don’t move, even when the two-legs talk to one another.

  Not all the two-legs are smiling. In the corner there’s a two-leg whose smile is upside down. He has a water drop right under his eye. The drop doesn’t move. Not even when he blinks.

  The smiling two-legs are all sitting together. They are eating and laughing. There are a few dogs sitting near them while they eat. I think they’re waiting for some food to drop. But they aren’t getting anything. These two-legs are neat eaters.

  But the two-leg with the upside-down smile is by himself. I bet that’s why his smile is upside down. I think that clown needs a friend.

  We start sniffing around for food.

  My tongue is still hanging out of my mouth. I’m really thirsty!

  Just then, the two-leg with the upside-down smile walks over to Rex and me.

  Uh-oh. Are we in trouble again?

  The two-leg pulls out a tall, thin water bowl. He holds it up to my snout. My tongue reaches in and starts lapping up the cold water.

  Aaahhhh! Lap, lap, lap.

  The two-leg reaches over and pats me on the head. He pours more water into the tall thin bowl. And he puts it under Rex’s snout.

  Rex looks at him funny.

  I think Rex is afraid. Maybe that’s because Rex hasn’t been friends with any two-legs.

  Rex must be more thirsty than afraid, because he starts lapping up the water. The two-leg pets Rex on the head. His eyes seem happy, even though his smile is still upside down.

  As soon as Rex finishes drinking, the two-leg begins to walk away. But before he does, he reaches down and pets Rex on the head one more time. I think he wishes he could stay with us a little longer.

  “Where’s he going?” I ask Rex.

  “He’s off to one of the rings, I reckon,” Rex says. “That’s where rodeo clowns do their jobs.”

  Jobs? That’s just what we’re looking for.

  “What kind of job is he going to do?” I ask Rex.

  “Clowns do many jobs at the rodeo,” Rex explains. “There’s only one way to find out what that clown’s doing now. We’re gonna have to follow him.”

  CHAPTER 6

  We follow the sad-looking clown to the rodeo ring. But he doesn’t look like he’s working. He’s just standing on the side of the ring, waving his upside-down food bowl in the air.

  The clown isn’t the only one in the ring, though. There’s also a horse with a two-leg on his back. The horse is circling around some big round cans. They look kind of like the cans Josh dumps his food scraps into when he is finished eating. I hate those cans. They get all the good food scraps.

  “What kind of a job does that horse have?” I ask Rex.

  “Barrel racing,” Rex replies. “The horse has to run around barrels. He can’t hit any of them or knock any over. And he has to do it really fast.”

  “That doesn’t seem hard,” I tell Rex. “We could do that.”

  “Rootin’ tootin’ right,” Rex agrees. “And we could do it faster. Because anything a horse can do, a dog can do better. Wanna give it a try?”

  “I sure do!” I cheer.

  Barrel racing sounds like the perfect job for Rex and me. Rex could do it here at the rodeo with these big barrels, and I could do it at home with our little cans.

  “Let’s get in that ring and show ’em how it’s done!” Rex shouts. He races for the ring and leaps over the fence. “Yeehaw!”

  “Right behind you!” I leap over the fence, too. “Yeehaw!”

  As soon as my paws hit the ground, they start running. I go around one barrel and then another.

  Neigh!

  The horse doesn’t sound happy that Rex and I are in the ring. I think he’s jealous. We run faster than he does. Especially Rex. His paws can really move!

  “Come on, paws!” I yell. “Catch up to Rex!”

  My paws move fast. Faster. Fastest. So fast that fur flies in my eyes. I can’t see where I’m running.

  SLAM! I run right into one of the big barrels.

  But I keep running anyway. Fast. Faster . . . Ow! I did it again.

  Neigh!

  The horse is not happy. Neither am I. My head hurts.

  I shake the fur away from my face so I can see. That’s how I know that the clown with the smile that’s upside down is running after Rex and me.

  “Uh-oh,” Rex says. “We better get out of here.”

  I follow Rex through a gate and out of the ring. The sad clown shuts the gate tight. Then he looks at Rex and me, and he laughs.

  I’ve never seen anyone with an upside-down smile. Strange things sure happen at a Texas rodeo.

  “Barrel racing wasn’t as easy as it looks,” I tell Rex. “The horse didn’t have as much trouble barrel racing as we did. But he had help from that cowboy.”

  “You know, that gives me an idea,” Rex says. “We don’t need jobs of our own. We could just help the cowboys do their jobs. Make it easier on them.”

  I thinkety, think, think about that.

  Samson helps his two-leg by getting his slippers.

  And Frankie helps his by getting the paper.

  Maybe that’s what a dog’s job is—helping his two-leg. Only . . .

  “What could we help with?” I ask Rex.

  “Well,” Rex replies, “have you ever roped a calf?”

  I cock my head. “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “Come on, then,” Rex says. “I’ll show ya!”

  CHA
PTER 7

  “There sure are a lot of events at a rodeo,” I tell Rex as we walk over to another ring on the other side of the rodeo grounds.

  “Yup,” Rex says. “There are more than ten events every day. Calf roping is one of the best. And one of the hardest. Watch.”

  There, in the ring, a two-leg rides on the back of a horse. A minute later, a baby cow runs into the ring.

  The two-leg on horseback swings something around and around in the air. It looks kind of like the leash that ties me to Josh when we walk in the park.

  “What’s he doing with that leash?” I ask Rex.

  “That what?” Rex asks. “Oh, you mean the lasso. He’s fixin’ to throw it around the calf’s neck.”

  “Why doesn’t he just get her a collar and clip it on?” I wonder aloud.

  “Get her a what?” Rex asks me.

  Rex doesn’t know what a collar or a leash is. He’s never had a two-leg to walk beside in the park. That makes me sad.

  The two-leg tosses one end of the leash toward the calf. But the calf runs away before it can go around her neck.

  “That there’s one feisty calf,” Rex answers. “She’s not going to make it easy.”

  “I didn’t want to walk on a leash, either, at first,” I tell Rex. “But it’s kind of nice to know that Josh and I are tied together when we go for a walk.”

  The two-leg tosses the end of the rope again. The calf dodges out of the way.

  “I’m gonna help that cowboy,” Rex tells me.

  “You’re going to let him tie that leash—I mean lasso—around your neck?” That doesn’t make sense to me. Walking on a leash doesn’t sound like much of a job.

  Rex laughs. “No. I’m gonna get that calf to stand still so the cowboy can just sling that lasso right over her head.”

  “You think you can do that?” I ask Rex.

  “Sure as shootin’,” he answers.