Flight, bite, and sonar sight…part 2 “Cage and Carry.”

Moe scratched Jarred through the collapsible cage, Larry escaped, and Curly, well Curly looked kinda comatose. Yeah, the boys named the bats. I really don't know why. I mean they named me. That I understand. I'm a dog after all. Dogs are supposed to have names. That's just the law of the jungle, you know. But bats?!? Why would you want to name such a leathery, furry, smooshed nosed flying thing-a-ma-jig. There just funny looking. They don't have a tail to wag, they can't swim, and they're just eeeeeeewwwww. So now we were down to 2 bats. I say "we" with a very loose panting tongue. Cause if........ (scratch that).........When they get caught. They almost always do. When they get caught, I'm gonna go so far as to deny even knowing that they were permanent dwellers on this planet. It's worked most of the time. I've only ever been punished with them once. And that was when they convinced me to make chase of a stray cat one afternoon, and the cat climbed up the side of Mrs. Crow. Then I, at a full on sprint, could not stop in time and knocked her down. I got pegged with the bristles of a broom, and the rake just missed me. Mrs. Crow had been taking in the sheets she had on the clothes line. So amidst the chaos the cat and the Egyptian cotton fitted sheet landed in the kiddie pool that had grass clippings swimming in it. Next, on to the slowly submerging sheets, the frantic cat’s claws seemed to catch a corner and it was dragged ten feet across the yard and into the fire pits ashes. Boy was she mad. She later checked me for injuries caused by the broom or rake. Yeah, she still loved me. It must be my puppy face that warmed her heart back from the thoughts of bleaching and scrubbing those sheets back to white.

The next morning, on the slow bike ride home, the boys stopped to show, just about every boy they could think of, their prize temporary pets. Most were amazed and thrilled at the adventure that was described. The screeching noises and beams of light flashing all around. And nets blindly flying left and right while dodging the incoming. Some were grossed out by the leathery skin, a few wanted to touch them and did, and one kid’s little brother ran screaming when Curly finally moved. Think his name was Dex. You know Dexter, Poindexter!?! Poor kid must have had nightmares for weeks. The boys laughed. I barked. The boys went 3 blocks out of their way to avoid Butch this time. He would have made them let Moe and Curly go free. But wasn't that the plan anyway? Let them go free?!? Well, in a manner of speaking.

We rounded the corner of Gruber Street, named after Clemmens Gruber, the founder of our fair town. They just passed the Post office, when the fire chief popped on his siren and radio. "Hey boys, pull over for a minute." The fire last night! Awe man! Everyone including me was ready to bolt for somewhere to hide, but then the chief said. "Got a question about the parade next month." We all just pulled over. Well, they pulled over, and I visited a small oak tree. The chief wanted to know if we would like to ride on the fire truck and toss candy to the other kids during the parade. The boys let out a silent sigh, and joyfully said "YES SIR! We'd love to." So the chief gave them some basic direction on how to toss the candy not throw it, and to wave a lot. I was doubly excited, cause the Fire house Dalmatian would be there too. She was cute, but I didn't know her name yet. A-oooooga. Ruff ruff. Howllllllllll. Okay, enough about my soon to be girl friend, back to the story.

The boys put Curly and Moe in the club house and covered the cage with an old pillow case, then went on about their daily routine. Chores, lunch, played a game or two of checkers, bloody knuckles, and several rounds of supervised slingshot target practice. The slingshots were usually under lock and key. They had to have permission to use them. Rules of the house of Crow. To much potential for danger or disaster. If you know what I mean? Of course you do. At least you should by now.

Night time came, and that meant it was time to put Moe and Curly to work................

You can feel it coming, can’t you? But hey, don't hate the dog. He's just the writer. It's the publisher that makes the following statement.

To be continued.......................