Alligator Bay

Cranbeary didn’t hesitate. His mind was racing. He mustn’t let Tyler get away! Just as the last of Tyler’s long body flashed by – B-O-I-N-K! Giving it all he had, Cranbeary boinked himself up onto the dog’s back. With a surge of ecstasy, Tyler shot across the back yard. Whack! A low-slung branch of a pine tree caught Cranbeary flush across the face, nearly knocking him from his perch. In desperation, he grabbed hold of Tyler’s collar and hung on for dear life as the dog ran in a sweeping arc, crossed from the yard into the street, jumped the ditch and headed down the pipeline at breakneck speed.

Cranbeary had an idea. He reached up, grabbed Tyler’s left ear, and pulled. Immediately, the dog began to drift into a wide left turn. Cool! thought Cranbeary to himself. Maybe I can steer this rampaging renegade and get him back home. He let go of his left ear and went for the right. Once again, the dog responded by turning in the direction of the tugged ear.

“Ride ‘em, Cowboy! Yahoo!” Cranbeary whooped out loud. “I got me a lean, mean, canine machine!”

Cranbeary, relishing the sensation of his newfound power and control, found the temptation to continue their mad frolic hard to resist. Contrary to good judgment, instead of turning Tyler towards home as he had originally planned, he figured he’d just lay down a quick mile or two under those thundering paws.

“Okay, Ty-Ty Boy,” he muttered in his ear as he stretched himself along the length of Tyler’s back. “You wanna run and I wanna ride. So whaddaya say we head on down the pipeline and do a few laps around the field before going home?” He gave a gentle pull on Tyler’s left ear as the dog continued his flight down the pipeline.

Well, suffice it to say that they were going along rather nicely until that left-ear maneuver. Tyler had traveled the pipeline with Papa nearly every day for three years and without any help from Cranbeary would have kept a smart course right out into the waiting field. The command to turn left caught him by surprise. But pull a dog’s ear and the head follows. And where the head goes, the rest of the dog goes with it. He went right off into the tall grass lining the side of the trail as it snaked its way down the length of the pipeline. The grass was thick and heavy, and the sudden deceleration it forced upon them nearly unseated Cranbeary, threatening to send him flying over Tyler’s head!

Tyler had geared down to a fast walk, darting one way and then another, nose dead to the ground and sniffing for all he was worth. He was on familiar territory. In his dog mind danced tantalizing images of rabbits, mice, possum, and even deer. He’d run across all of them at one time or another out rambling with Papa. They were all chaseable. All something worth running after.

It didn’t take but the blink of an eye before Tyler found something real and very much alive. The problem was, it was the one critter definitely on Papa’s do-not-chase list. A skunk!

Cranbeary, who had been hanging on with all his might to the going-this-way-now-that-a-way Tyler saw the skunk, too. And in just the nick of time he’d decided that sticking with Tyler was way beyond the call of duty. From deep in his reservoir of personal survival Cranbeary made the immediate decision to slip to the ground and part company. If Tyler escaped unscathed, he’d boink up onto his back again, promise to become a new bear, and head them both for home and bed. If Tyler had the misfortune of getting sprayed by an irate skunk then it would be every dog and bear for himself!

Cranbeary didn’t have long to wait. Tyler, who had been sprayed by skunks three times over the last year and a half, found that his luck was still holding strong. His bad luck that is.

Zzzzzzaaap! Tyler took a full dose of skunk-junk square in the face! In fact, he was panting so hard that the greater part of the stuff went in his mouth and down his throat. Howling with anguish and half-mad from the pungent stench, the big dog whirled around and sped off into the swamp leaving Cranbeary rolling on the ground, tears streaming down his eyes he was laughing so hard. A tittering, squealing little ball of reddish, purplish fur.

It took several minutes for Cranbeary to collect himself. He could still hear the retreating echoes of Tyler howling away in the distance, but the sound was becoming faint. He gave a last chuckle before turning around and heading back up the pipeline towards the house. That boy is sure talkin’ wookie now. Hope he finds his way back home sometime before winter

It had been Cranbeary’s full intention to leave Tyler to his own wits and return without him. In fact, he was nearly back to the road leading to the house when his conscience started getting the best of him. Someone in his head began reciting a list of the night’s facts.

Wasn’t it Cranbeary who, not being able to sleep because of the heat, had crept silently down into the family room into Tyler's domain? Wasn’t it Cranbeary’s idea to have the both of them go outside? Hadn’t Cranbeary been the one to use boinkin’ to open the door? Wasn’t Cranbeary the one who had decided a bareback ride down the pipeline and around the field would make for great adventure? And wasn’t Cranbeary responsible for that fatal left turn off the trail and into the tall grass and skunk country?

Who was inside his head?

With one foot already touching the edge of the back lawn, Cranbeary stopped dead in his tracks. He was coming to the same conclusion as the Voice. He, Cranbeary, was largely to blame for Tyler’s misfortune. Try as he might to ignore that quiet yet persistent voice, he could not. He was guilty as charged!

Having gone down the pipeline and back once already, Cranbeary had little trouble retracing his steps. Only it wasn’t as much fun this time. Instead of flying along the path on the back of a mischievous Siberian, clicking off yards of turf with every long-legged stride, it was becoming more of a laborious journey. He was nowhere near as fast as Tyler – and the mosquitoes! Cranbeary paused, listening hard, hoping to catch any sound of the dog.

Silence.

No – there it was, way off in the distance. Tyler’s unmistakable howl. Cranbeary pressed on with renewed determination. He soon reached the place where they had detoured from the trail. His steps were cautious and deliberate. No way was he going to plunge straight into another ambush by a malcontented skunk! He carefully made his way into the swamp one step at a time, taking care to stop now and then and listen for Tyler’s distress calls. They weren’t coming as often as before but they were still there. And he was getting closer, or at least heading in the right direction.

He also found that it was impossible to stay dry. He was in the thick of the swamp now, and although he wasn’t aware of it, his search had led him right into the heart of Alligator Bay.

Cranbeary peered through the thick swamp air down to where his feet should have been, but found he was standing in water up to his knees. He stared down at the water then rubbed his eyes. He was awfully tired. Maybe he was seeing things. Maybe those two patches of yellow looking back at him were lily pads or something.

HHHAAYISSSSS! THWACK! The water immediately in front of him suddenly exploded. Huge jaws filled with rows of countless jagged teeth hissed just inches from his face before falling back into the water. Cranbeary’s mind clicked into gear. Alligator! ALLI-GATOR!

Filled with fear, Cranbeary scrambled backwards in a desperate rush to escape any second attack. Stumbling and clawing his way through the overgrowth he sought refuge at the base of a big stump surrounded by tall grass. I’ve got to be still and hide! Maybe he won’t be able to see me in here. But the eyes, watching him intently, those two flickering yellow-green eyes, mocked his hopes and set him to shivering with fear.