“Have you had your ears checked lately?”

  “Well, let me think…”

  “Open your mouth and say, ‘Ahhh.” He opened his mouth and I peered inside. “No wonder you can’t hear anything. I can’t even see your ears! What have you done with them?”

  “Gwckd wcalske gkehbl.”

  “What? Speak up.”

  “Cslekci gugg rickle mumble bum.”

  “I can’t understand a word you’re saying. Close your mouth and try it again.”

  He closed his mouth. “I said, my ears are on the outside of my head.”

  I looked and, hmm, sure enough, there were two ears. “Okay, I’ve found them.”

  “Oh good. I feel better now, how about you?”

  I collapsed. “I don’t feel better. How could I feel better? The cat destroyed my case.”

  “I’ll be derned. Which one?”

  “The Case of the Tree-Legged Tree Toad.”

  “Oh, you mean the porcupine?”

  There was a long, throbbing moment of silence as I stared into the Great Emptiness of his eyes. “You knew?”

  “Oh yeah, Pete told me it was just a dirty trick.”

  “And you kept that vital piece of information to yourself? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Oh, ‘cause you never listen, I guess.”

  “Drover, how can I run the Security Division when nobody ever listens? The cat has made me look like an idiot and you went along with it!”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “You will be court-martialed for…” I cut my eyes to both sides. “Wait a second! The cat told you he was playing a dirty trick, right?”

  “Which cat?”

  “Pete, of course.”

  “Oh, him. Yeah, he was really proud of himself.”

  “I just figured this out. Ha! It wasn’t just a dirty trick, son, it was the old Double Dirty Trick Trick. Cats use it all the time.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  I leaped to my feet. “Don’t you get it? The little crook saw that I was only inches away from solving the case of the Tree Sloth and he couldn’t stand it, so he fed us bogus information to throw us off the trail.”

  “Gosh, you mean…”

  “Exactly. He was desperate and played the only card he had left. He invented the story about the porcupine, and you fell for it like a duck out of water.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Even I got fooled. Oh, this is rich! He’s the champion of dirty tricks and he almost pulled it off, but he forgot one thing, Drover. The mind of a dog is an awesome thing.”

  “I’m confused.”

  I whopped him on the back. “Shake it off, son. All you need to know is that we have the little sneak exactly where he wants us.” His eyes crossed. “Please don’t cross your eyes in the middle of my lecture. It’s very distracting.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Let’s move out, we’ve got a job to do.”

  Wow, what a turn-around! Are you amazed that in mere minutes, I had exposed the cat’s Double Dirty Trick Trick? Hey, even I was surprised, I mean, the solution had come out of nowhere, and now it was time to activate all dogs and march off in search of the Tree Sloth.

  I had never seen one with my own eyes, but our Department had compiled a file on its patterns and habits. We knew, for example, that Tree Sloths ate trees, so when our squadron reached the line of trees north of the ranch house (we called it the “shelter belt,” remember?), when we reached the shelter belt, we slowed our pace and began looking for signs of tree-destruction, such as stumps and large piles of sawdust.

  You’re probably wondering why we weren’t on the lookout for fallen trees. Tree Sloths eat ‘em, that’s why, so you never find the actual trees, only what’s left—sawdust and maybe a few leaves.

  Sure enough, we found no fallen trees, irreguffable proof that the Tree Sloth was chewing down our trees and eating them alive.

  Actually, we didn’t find any piles of sawdust either. That puzzled me at first, but then I figured it out. To conceal his presence on the ranch, the villain was not only devouring the trees but eating the piles of sawdust as well. This guy was a real pro.

  As we crept through the half-darkness of the shelter belt, Drover came to a sudden stop and pointed to a tree up ahead of us. “Oh my gosh, look at that!”

  I turned my Visual Scanners toward the tree and pulled it into focus. I saw…well, not much. “What are we looking at?”

  “See those limbs? Bare.”

  “Holy smokes, quick, hit the ground! Turn out the lights and don’t speak to strangers!” I hit the ground but Drover didn’t move. “Hey, pal, bears eat dogs!”

  He gave me a silly grin. “Yeah, but I didn’t see a bear.”

  “Drover, I heard you say…”

  “No, I said, those limbs are,” he stuck his mouth next to my ear and yelled, “BARE!”

  I gave him a shove backward. “Stop screeching in my ear! Do you think I’m deaf?”

  “No, but you never listen. Look at those limbs.”

  “Don’t give me orders!”

  “Hank, just look at the limbs. They’re bare. Something’s been chewing the bark.”

  I narrowed my eyes and studied the tree. “Hmm. Something has chewed all the bark off those limbs and left them bare.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “That’s NOT what you said. You turned in a confusing report about grizzly bears. How can I run the Security Division when I’m getting bad information?” I cut my eyes from side to side. “Drover, do you know what kind of animal eats the bark off of trees?”

  “Yeah, porcupines.”

  “Not porcupines. Tree Sloths. We’ve got a live one. All we have to do is smoke him out and make the arrest. Okay, soldier, let’s check for tracks.”

  We put our noses to the ground and began searching for tracks. See, when a wild animal passes through an area, he leaves tracks, footprints. This happens because animals walk on legs and their legs are attached to feet and their feet leave impressions in the dirt.

  Legs, feet, tracks. See the pattern? It happens every time.

  A lot of intruders think they can slip onto my ranch without being detected. What they don’t know is that a highly-trained cowdog can do a Snifferation Test and find all sorts of tracks.

  And, bingo, after a thirty-second Snifferation, I found one. “Here we go, I’ve got him on radar! Look at this.”

  Drover squinted down at the track. “I’ll be derned. Four toes.”

  “What? That’s impossible. A Three-Toed Tree Sloth can’t leave a four-toed track.” I looked closer and studied the track. Hmmm. Four toes.

  “And you know what? It kind of looks like…a porcupine track.”

  You know what? It did, and that sent my mind into a swirl.

  A lot of your ordinary mutts would have quit the case right there. In other words, they would have fallen for the obvious. Not me. Long experience in dealing with cats and crinimals had taught me NEVER TO FALL FOR THE OBVIOUS.

  It was a brilliant ploy, I had to give him credit. It might have worked on some ordinary mutt, but not on me.

  I glanced over both shoulders and dropped my voice to a whisper. “Drover, this guy is smarter than we thought.”

  “He is?”

  “Yes. Obviously he has equipped himself with…”

  Wait. I know you’re aching to hear the rest of this, but we’ve got to change chapters. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it works around here. We have pages and we have chapters, and they’re not the same.

  So here’s the deal: don’t move, stay right there. I’ll take care of a few little housekeeping chores and we’ll get back together on the other side. Believe me, it’ll be worth the wait.

  You absolutely won’t believe this next part.

  Chapter Seven: The Plot Plottens

  I’m back, how about you? Good. I’m back, you’re back, and we’re ready to roll this case up into a nice little bundle.

  Okay, Drover and I were in the shelter belt, north of the ranch house, and we had just discovered a mysterious track in the dust. It had been made by a creature with four toes, and Drover leaped to the conclusion that it was a porcupine track.

  “I’m sorry, son, but you’ve been sand-bagged.”

  “I have?”

  “Don’t you get it? That track was left by a Three-Toed Tree Sloth—only he was equipped with a high-tech device that left exactly the kind of track we weren’t looking for!”

  “You mean…”

  “Yes. Obviously he’s equipped himself with prosthetic shoes.”

  Drover’s eyes bugged out. “Prosthetic shoes?”

  “Exactly. They were scientifically designed to leave a four-toed track. He’s doing this to confuse us.”

  “Where would he buy shoes?”

  “Drover, I deal in large concepts, not sniveling details. The large concept here is that our adversary wanted to throw us off the trail, so he left us some phony tracks. It was the smart play, very clever, but it didn’t work.”

  “I’ll be derned.” He sniffed the track. “It even smells like a porcupine.”

  “See? Exactly my point. These guys will do anything to conceal their true identity.” I began loosening up the muscles in my enormous shoulders. “Well, I’ve seen enough. How about you?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t mind checking it out some more.”

  “Well, that’s exactly the wrong answer. We’ve done all the checking we need to do. We’ve built a solid case and now it’s time to send in the troops.”

  “Okay, good luck.”

  I paced a few steps away from the runt. “We’re putting out a call for volunteers. We need a few good men to creep forward and scout those trees.”

  His eyes went blank. “Volunteers?”

  “That’s correct. And I’ve held a spot open for…YOU.”

  “Me! You said ‘good men.’ I’m just a dog.”

  “Drover, we’re willing to waive some of the requirements.”

  “Yeah, and I’ll wave goodbye!”

  He tried to escape, but I knew his tricks and blocked his path. “Drover, this could be a great opportunity to advance your career.”

  “Yeah, but this leg’s acting up again. I’m not sure I could stand the pain.” He began limping around in circles. “See? Terrible pain!”

  “Drover, pain is what drives us.”

  “Yeah, and it’s driving me crazy! Oh, my leg!”

  “Pain is the magic fuel that propels us to greater heights.”

  PLOP! He hit the ground like a rock. “Darn the luck, there it went!”

  I glared down at him. “All right, you little slacker, if you won’t volunteer, I’ll volunteer for you. Get up. You have just been promoted to the Scout Patrol. Go do your duty. And never forget, son, this is for the ranch!”

  And so it was that Drover volunteered to lead the Scout Patrol and go in search of the elusive Three-Tiered Toad Sloth. We knew it would be a dangerous mission and that some of our troops might not come back alive, but Drover stood tall and took the assignment.

  Or, to come at it from another direction, he did his very best to weasel out of it, but I was able to coax him into taking the job. Heh heh. I used a motivational technique we call Brute Force. It worked.

  He was shivering all over when I gave him his final instructions. “All right, men, sneak into that line of trees and check things out.”

  “It’s awful dark in there.”

  “That’s correct, and don’t forget that it’s always darkest before it gets any darker.”

  His teeth were clacking together. “Yeah, but what if I see a bear?”

  “Drover, if you see a bear, you will go straight to your room and stand with your nose in the corner for three weeks. Do you know why? Because we have no bears on this ranch.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “Hush. Your orders for this mission are to find a Tongue-Tied Tree Sloth. Nothing else will do. If you’re not back in five minutes, we’ll extend the deadline and give you another thirty minutes. Now get with the program and do your stuff!”

  He didn’t go cheerfully but that was okay. We prefer that our troops go into combat with a smile, but when they don’t…well, we really don’t care.

  He crept into the dense grove of trees and soon disappeared into the shadows. I had to wait. This is always the hardest time for the commanding officer—the hours of waiting and worrying about the safety of the men, pacing back and forth, studying maps, going over every detail of the assignment and hoping that we didn’t miss anything important.

  It’s tough, let me tell you, and sometimes it goes on for hours. Not this time. Two minutes after he left on patrol, he came scampering out of the trees.

  I greeted him with bared fangs. “Get back in those trees and finish the mission! And I don’t want to hear about your bad leg.”

  He was excited, hopping up and down and wig-wagging his stub tail. “I found him!”

  “What? You mean…”

  “Yeah, he’s in the shelter belt, just like you said.”

  “You saw the Tree Sloth? Was he in a tree?”

  “Well…not exactly. He was on the ground, chewing on a tree trunk.”

  “That’s close enough. How about toes? Did you count his toes?”

  “Well…”

  “Excellent! He had three toes on each of his four feet, giving us the expected total of twelve toes. Am I right?”

  “Well…”

  “Great! It matches our profile. It’s the Tree Sloth.”

  Drover rolled his eyes around. “Well…you know, he kind of looked like…a porcupine.”

  I couldn’t hide my excitement. “Of course he did! Didn’t I tell you? He’s disguised himself as a porcupine! First he used the prosthetic shoes, now he’s wearing the complete disguise. These guys are clever beyond our wildest dreams.”

  Wow, what a triumph! Drover’s report of the scouting mission proved, without the slightest doubt, that we had located the villain. Even more important, it proved that the profile I had developed before the mission was correct in every detail, right down the line.

  Bingo!

  I was so excited, I could hardly contain myself, but Drover didn’t seem to understand the murgitude of this triumph. He sat there, shaking his head and mumbling under his breath.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I think it’s a porcupine.”

  I searched for patience. “Okay, I’ll go over this one last time, and please pay attention. If you had told me that the creature looked like a Tree Sloth, I would have known the whole mission was a failure. That would have meant that he was a beaver or a possum, wearing a sloth disguise.”

  “This is crazy. He looked just like a porcupine.”

  “Drover, open your eyes! That’s proof that he isn’t! You have to put yourself inside the crinimal mind, and see the world as he sees it.”

  “Yeah, but everything comes out backwards.”

  “Exactly my point. They use backwards logic to confuse us, but this time, we’re one step behind them.”

  He blinked his eyes. “What do we do now?”

  My mind was racing so fast, I had to pause a moment to slow it down. “We bust down the door, raid the joint, make the arrest, put him in cuffs, and escort him off the property.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t see a door.”

  I gave that some thought. “Good point. Okay, we won’t bust it down.”

  “Yeah, ‘cause if there’s not a door, we can’t bust it down.”

  “Exactly.” I gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Son, you’re starting to catch onto this business. It makes me proud to see you taking some insnickitive.”

  “Thanks. What’s insnickitive?”

  “It means that after all these years, you’re finally starting to use your head for something besides a hat rack.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, I might as well use it. It’s paid for.”

  I stared at him for a long moment. “You bought a hat?”

  “No, my head’s paid for. I was making a joke, but I guess it wasn’t all that funny.”

  “I guess not.” I glanced around in a full circle. “What were we talking about before you got us on the subject of hats?”

  “Well, let me think here. Oh yeah, insnickitive.”

  “I never heard of it. What is it, a disease?”

  “Yeah, I think it’s kind of like rutabaga.”

  “Well, there is seldom a good excuse for rude behavior.” The seconds ticked by and I began to fidget. “I think we were discussing something important. Do you remember what it was?”

  He began scratching his left ear. “Well, let me think. Food?”

  “Maybe that was it.” I began pacing again. “Food is a very important subject for us dogs. Why? Because if it weren’t for food, we’d have nothing to eat.”

  “I never thought that.”

  “Yes, well, it’s true and…” I stopped in my tracks. “We weren’t discussing food. We were in the middle of something very important, but I can’t remember what it was.”

  I don’t know how Drover does this, but it happens fairly often. At the very moment when I need to focus all my mental powers like a laser bean, he starts babbling nonsense. Sometimes, out of pity for the runt, I try to show some interest in his little nothings and the next thing I know…poof! I lose the track of my train.

  I lose my train tracks.

  I lose my train of thought, let us say.

  It’s more than annoying. It’s frustrating and embarrassing. I’ve thought of firing him, you know. I’ve kept him on the payroll for years and often find myself lying awake and thinking, “Why do I do this to myself?” Why don’t I just call him into my office and give him the straight truth?

  Something like, “Drover, we’ve been reviewing the files on all our employees. We’ve noticed that your file is empty. You’ve been with the Security Division for how many years? And the records show that you’ve done ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. I’m sorry, we have to let you go. Clear out your desk. Goodbye.”