Рита Браун - Sneaky Pie For President

“You say.” The Jack Russell took a precautionary step backward.

Leaving the feed room, Sneaky called up to the barn cats. “Hey, you guys aren’t catching any mice. They’ve chewed the bottoms off the feed bags.”

Dezi replied, “Well, Pewter gets into them, too, but the bags are empty. We’d kill the mice if they messed with full ones, but the C.O. always dumps them in the bins or the cans. We aren’t lazy.”

This declaration was followed by a loud grunt, then the click of a bill as the barn owl up in the cupola let out a laugh.

The barn cats looked upward, wisely refraining from an argument. These barn cats were a wild lot, to be sure, but they knew better than to sass the powerful owl.

Sneaky followed Jones, Blue Sky, and Shamus as the C.O. led them out of their special paddock. The dogs tagged along, too. Pewter reposed on a fleece saddlepad in the tack room. She felt she’d had enough exercise for the day, and it wasn’t yet seven o’clock!

Each horse was turned around to face the human. She patted them on the neck, then their halters were slipped off. Then the three horses whirled to run to the end of the paddock. Despite the visual limitations of Blue Sky and Shamus, their senses were so keen they knew the dimensions of the paddock. They never ran into the fence or into each other. Eager to be free this glorious morning, when the human opened the gate, Jones, Blue Sky, and Shamus happily loped into the early sunshine.

The cats and dogs ambled through that pasture into the next. When all the gates were opened to the other upper pastures, the horses could enjoy thirty acres with varied terrain, watered by a strong running creek. With his one good eye showing the way, Jones still surely loved to gallop. Disappearing over the hill, he then came charging back up.

Before she slipped under the fence, Sneaky turned just in time to see Jones stumble. She waited for a moment. He recovered, then went down again.

“Hurry!” the tiger cat yelled to her friends.

They rushed to the aged horse. He lay on his side, his breathing rapid and shallow.

Tucker licked the old fellow’s nose. “Jones, Jones, are you all right?”

“Ah.” He blew out from his nostrils. “My legs don’t want to work.”

Tally hit the turbo, turning tail and running for the human. She was puttering in the tractor shed.

Sneaky sat by Jones’s head, his large brown eyes soft. “Do you hurt?”

“No. I feel weak.” A deep breath followed this. “Pussycat, my dear friend, my time has come. Sit with me awhile. You, too, Tucker.”

“We won’t leave,” Tucker reassured the horse, as she saw the human running toward them, Tally leading the way.

The C.O. knelt beside Jones, pulling back his lips to look at his gums. She placed her fingers on the big vein running along his neck.

“Jones, I’ll call the vet.” The C.O. met Sneaky’s eyes: Both of them knew he was dying. The human didn’t want the beloved horse to suffer.

“No need,” Jones whispered. “Don’t trouble yourself.”

She ran to the tack room of the barn as the three animals sat with Jones. Hearing the C.O.’s call, Pewter jumped off the saddlepad and hurried to her friends.

“Jones, don’t die,” Pewter wailed, as Sneaky shot her a sharp “shut up” look.

“We all have to go sometime,” the old Thoroughbred replied with great sense.

The horses in the other pasture trotted up to the fence-line.

Jones lifted his head, “Ozzie, you’ll be the oldest now. Keep them in line.”

Blue Sky walked up, Shamus by his side, as the pony depended on the Saddlebred more than the other way around. Each of Jones’s paddock mates nuzzled him.

Shamus let out a high nicker. “Jones, what will we do without you?”

“Live.” Jones laid his head back down, for it felt so heavy. “You’ll go on.”

“I’ll take care of things,” the blind Saddlebred promised.

“I know.” Jones breathed faster now. “You all look after the human. I’ve been with her over half her life. She needs all the horse sense you can give her. She has a good heart. Promise me.”

They all promised, and Tally started to sob in anguish.

Pretty soon the barn cats came down to say goodbye, as did the barn swallows. Jones had lived so long that generations of barn swallows knew him. All the animals knew him. He’d always been there, like the mountains.

The human came back, a towel over her shoulders. She sat on the grass beside her oldest animal friend.

“It will be okay, buddy.” She rubbed the towel over his face and along his neck, hoping it would feel good.

“You saved me. You’ve saved a lot of us,” Jones managed to say. “I’ve had a good life. Thank you for it.” He raised his head slightly, looked at her, then laid it down.

The gathering of friends waited. Fortunately, the vet was on call in the area, reaching them within a half hour.

Fading fast, Jones heard the truck tires. “Sneaky Pie, don’t ever stop fighting for what’s right. You can still save the animals.”

The cat rubbed her head on his. “I won’t,” she said sadly.

The vet calmly walked down the hill, sensitive not to frighten the other horses. She placed her hand on the C.O.’s shoulder.

“Thanks for getting here so fast, Anne.”

The vet knelt down beside Jones, checked him out. “His systems are shutting down.”

“I don’t want him to suffer.”

Anne walked back up to her truck, filling a syringe as the C.O. slipped halters back over Blue Sky and Shamus. The human walked the two blind horses back to their stalls.

When she rejoined Anne, the C.O. stroked Jones’s head.

Tally really wailed now.

“Tally, I can’t see you anymore, but I sure can hear you,” Jones rasped, and Sneaky couldn’t help it, she laughed.

Then Jones was gone.

The animals stayed at his side as the humans walked up to the barn.

Two hours later, Burly Connick drove up the farm road with his ditch witch and began to dig a deep hole.

Sneaky and the human watched as he prepared to push the body in. The C.O. climbed up on the machine so he could hear her, hanging on to the bars. “Burly, lay him out so he faces the mountains. He loved the mountains.”

And it was done.

As she paid Burly, the man said, “You two been together a long time.”

“Yes, we were, over thirty years.”

“My little Trixie,” he named his dachshund, now departed, “lived to fifteen, and when she died I cried like a baby. A baby.” He reached for the chew in his pocket with one hand as he took the check with the other. “I think they know more than we do.”

“Yes” was all the C.O. managed to say.

And, for once, Pewter stayed quiet.

Literary Aspirations Revealed

A week had passed since Jones died. All the animals continued to mourn him; he’d been in his pasture since each one had been born. Everyone felt low. The human said nothing but carried a handkerchief to dab her eyes.

This last Saturday in May, everyone but Pewter worked on farm repairs. You’d cross two chores off your list and three new ones would hop on the bottom.

Sneaky used the sad time to canvass more animals. She’d talked to the Canada geese, the chickens (impossible twits), the muskrats, any and all whom she encountered. Every now and then the cowbirds continued their bombing campaign, but they didn’t show up in full force, for which everyone was grateful.

Alone in the house, Pewter had the computer all to herself. Furious that over the years she had been portrayed as a fat, self-involved diva, she was determined to write a smash novel of her own. The computer was really easy to use. The cat couldn’t understand why they used an apple for a logo. Made no sense. She thought it should be a jet or a cheetah running flat out. A cat never could tell what logos or totems would motivate people.