Catsup

By evening, the weather had begun to change. Billows of dark clouds rolled over mountaintops as the sun sank slowly below the horizon. A star-studded purple dusk and crisp, cool air replaced the once sunny day, but inside the truck cab, it was warm and cozy.
          Bob removed the “Killer” sweater from Paco and dressed him in a “Count Dracula Chihuahua” outfit he had special ordered for him. He was pleasantly surprised. “It fits!” he said. “Would you believe I paid forty dollars for this? If it didn’t fit, I was prepared to put the dog on a diet.”
          Danny teased Bob for treating Paco like a kid. “Why don’t you and Sandy get married and have some kids that are not furry?”
          “Paco is a kid,” corrected Bob, “but I don’t have to change diapers, send him to expensive daycare, or hire a babysitter. He goes where I go and eats out of a can. Anyhow, I want to get married, but Sandy has already made it clear; I will have to settle down first. I asked her paw for a job on the ranch, but the foreman doesn’t want some old truck driver. He wants an experienced cowboy, someone who can ride a horse and who knows how to rope, pull, and punch calves.”
          “Haven’t they heard of four-wheelers?” asked Danny. “And if you punch calves, won’t all those angry mother cows call PETA Referral Service and file assault charges on you? By the way, do you know why the cowboy got a dachshund?”
          “Because he was tired of his horse nagging him all the time about his smoking?”
          “No . . . Because someone told him to ‘Get along little doggie.’ Ha-Ha. Get it? Get a LONG little—”
          Bob gave Danny an exasperated no-more-dumb-jokes look and continued telling about life on the range. “They’ve got horses that can go where no four-wheeler can go, and you don’t have to bring along a can of gas, either. I don’t care how good all this smart-aleck technology gets; it can’t replace a good horse and mount on those rugged spreads.”
          “Does Sandy smoke?” asked Danny cautiously.
          Bob’s body stiffened and his chest inflated in a defensive posture. “If it’s not her nagging me to quit, it’s you!” he said gruffly. “You should be glad I’m used to her nagging all the time or I wouldn’t have the patience to put up with you and that hairball of misery you call a cat.”
          “You mean Snowflake!” said Danny. He was happy to have Sandy on his side.
          “I meant BOTH hairballs!” shouted Bob. He simmered down a little. “Are you going to do anything for Halloween tomorrow?”
          “Nope,” said Danny. “I’m just going to sit back and watch out for cargo thieves. As I’ve said before, my family does not celebrate Halloween because I will not allow them. I send the kids to a church-sponsored carnival where there are games, booths, apple bobs, cakewalks, moonwalks (for a bouncing good time), and lots and lots of candy. I make them brush their teeth twice, afterwards.”
          “Is that so!” replied Bob. “Well, go right ahead and be an ol’ fuddy-duddy. As for me and Paco, WE are going to the truck stop, and WE are going to have a little FUN!”
          Danny sized up the Count Dracula Chihuahua outfit and asked Bob if he was going to teach Paco how to bite people on the neck, vampire style.
          “Naw,” said Bob. “He’s never developed a taste for jugular.”

Snowflake sized up the outfit and asked Paco, “Is that the last word in Chihuahua fashion? I must say, you DO look stylish. The bowtie is a bit much. However, the high collar helps disguise those huge hairy ears and the macabre black is nicely slenderizing—and flatters your personality.”
          Paco barked back, “An’ why are you not wearing your prissy preencess outfit thees year? Doz eet make you luke fat and your thighs chonky?”

The QUALCOMM beeped again, this time with a weather bulletin warning drivers of pending snow, ice, and fog hazards.
          “Fog? With snow and ice? That’s a strange weather pattern,” said Danny. “Should we layover a few more days?”
          “No,” answered Bob. “Been too many delays already. We’ve got to roll.”
          Danny hated to drive when precipitation and freezing temperatures occurred simultaneously. One could never tell when a transparent sheet of ice called black ice would suddenly form. The only thing worse than ice, was deep, terrifying fog. Nevertheless, Bob was determined to drive in the coming bad weather. Danny was afraid his partner’s overconfidence would send their truck flying over the side of a mountain.