Skidboot 'The Smartest Dog In The World' by Cathy Luchetti Read Free Book Online Page B

against fur. The dog was intent on his work and deliberately did not look at David again. At least not for a while.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    Is he a dog or what …?
    Morning dawned on a household so quiet that even the mice tiptoed. A house that sucked up silence from the surrounding hills and from the pale, clueless sky. Silence settled like dust, filling the corners and soothing David. With Barbara at work and Russell at school, David was left to flip a lariat around, trying out a new brand of polyester rope to see whether it had slippage. He hoisted the noose against his boot to give it a pull, but then his crutch clattered to the floor and knocked over his coffee. Premium blend splattered on his Levi's. He sighed, daubing them dry. He'd made Russell breakfast and lunch, usually a satisfying task but today he felt irked because the Raisin Bran was short of raisins and they were out of milk. A bowl of dried cereal with tap water seemed a pitiful start to the day. He needed to make a grocery list, yet he just sat there, silent, brooding, staring at his pencil.
    His thoughts zigzagged back and forth, one telling him that the dog was not insane, that on two occasions he'd shown rational behavior, once leading the horse back after David's accident, then last night, attacking the javalina. Lurking in that furry mayhem were the seeds of instinct, like concern for his family, loyalty, even decision making. It didn't seem right to let a possible intelligence go to waste. Why, the dog had even taken to imitating him, limping after David with identical, mincing steps, a real sideshow.
    Rudy Hartwig, David's Dad, had said to him on many occasions, "always travel light." David himself had translated that to mean "make the most of what you have," which in this case, was an oddball Blue Heeler who thought he was a human. David chugged back a glass of water. He sat on the sofa and tossed a baseball from hand to hand, thinking. Fate rested in the final toss, as in will I or will I not ? Back and forth, the ball plopped from one hand to another. On the final toss, he lost his grip because of a searing pain in his leg. The ball fumbled out of his hand and rolled under the sofa—gone.
    Just then a ruckus struck up under the sofa, flushing the dust balls into a swirl on the floor. A black nose poked out, retreated, then poked out again as Skidboot cautiously emerged. The dog had the ball in his mouth. He planted himself in front of David, panting, with that same signature gaze—a hypnotist to his subject.
    Now? Now? Now could he play, now, now? Skidboot nosed the ball up and down, as in look, look!
    David sighed. What a show off. A boaster, a beggar, an annoying blitz in their orderly lives. David mused, watching the dog. His nature was to fix things. If rattlers slithered out to the barn, he'd pitchfork them. If mice invaded, he'd design a trap. If the calves had nits, he'd dip them. So why the delay with Skidboot? He couldn't figure it, but knew it had to do with him being Barbara's dog and respecting her ownership. She'd had pets all her life growing up in California, and she'd formed a tight bond with this dog, pesky or not. When she got home from work, Skidboot lay waiting for her, tucked under her horse trailer. If his paw had a thorn, or he had the sniffles, he headed straight to Barbara for pampering. David respected that, but courtesy time was just about over. It was time for something else.
    David reached for the ball and slapped it into his hand.
    "Yes sir, I will!" he said, narrowing his eyes at Skidboot, who quivered in front of him like a pile of springs, nearly shaking, ready to go. People say a dog is like a child that never grows up. David was about to prove that one wrong.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
    Leash Law
    The day had started normal enough. A few pillows gnawed, one toy demolished. Amazing that the Hartwigs still gave him so many toys, which was a happy thing. The stuffed rabbit lay mangled in a heap of corduroy and polyester, after