Free The Case of the Bone-Stalking Monster by John R. Erickson Page B

impressed with Ralph’s work. He was a hound dog, you know, and hounds have always been good barkers.
    His was a deep “Roof, roof” which added some force to Drover’s yips and squeaks. And then, of course, I weighed in with my deepest and most threatening bark, which is probably what saved us.
    We ran a few steps, stopped and barked back the waves of attacking Bone Monsters, then ran a few steps more. It was brutal.
    At last we made it to the yard gate. We had fought and clawed our way through the Enemy lines, through wave after wave of suicidal Bone Monster attacks, and somehow we had made it.
    I was proud of my guys. You never really know what a dog is made of until he’s . . .
    The door? The back door was opening? Thank goodness, we had awakened the house and someone was coming to our rescue!
    I heard a voice in the darkness. It was Loper’s.
    â€œIf you idiots wake me up one more time, you’re going to be eating buckshot.” Gulp. “Do you hear me, Hank?” Yes sir. “Now shut up your barking!”
    Yes sir. I knew from past experience that Loper wasn’t a totally rational person in the middle of the night. There were many things he didn’t understand about Security Work, and I could only hope that, come morning, he would see the arrow of his ways.
    And yes, I understood the message about “buck­shot” and knew that he wasn’t kidding.
    The door slammed shut and the lights went out in the house. I turned to my companions. “Nice work, men, but we’re not quite finished. Our final objective is to capture and defend the back porch. Any questions?”
    Ralph raised his paw. “I can’t climb this fence, legs are too short.”
    â€œIn that case, Ralph, go down fighting, and take a few monsters with you. It’s been a real pleasure knowing you.”
    His ears jumped. “Last one to the porch is a rotten egg.”
    And then, before our very eyes, he climbed over the fence. It wasn’t very graceful, but he got ’er done. Drover went over next, while I covered the rear, and then I went soaring over the fence like a deer.
    That rhymes, doesn’t it? Rear and deer. And it also reminded me of the lovely Miss Scamper and the many perfumed hours we had spent together—reciting poetry, singing songs, staring into each other’s eyes. What a gal, and she was madly in love with me.
    By the time I reached the porch, Drover and Ralph had already set up in the Back Door Se­curity Formation, and they had done it on their own, with­out any prompting from me. I was proud of them. My guys were really coming through in the crutch.
    Oh, in case you’re not familiar with BDSF, here’s a quick outline of the procedure. It calls for the dogs to sit down on the porch and press their backs as tightly against the door as possible. This not only stops all traffic in and out the door, but it keeps the house from moving around.
    It also makes us feel that we’re almost inside the house, which is pretty important on scary nights.
    I took my place in the BDSF pattern. “Well, guys, we made it. Nice going. We won’t get any sleep tonight but at least . . .” My ears picked up the sounds of their snoring. “Ralph? Drover?”
    They were both sound asleep—sitting up, mind you. Well, that was okay. They had fought a brave fight, and as their commanding officer, I didn’t mind taking the entire nightwatch mysnork. I was wide awoink by then and snicklefritz porkchop murgle . . .
    Perhaps I dozed, but not for long. The next thing I knew, it was daily broadlight. A crazy person was standing on the other side of the screen door, whomping on us with the door and screaming incoherent messages about . . . something.
    â€œWill you get off my porch and let me out of my house? And what are you doing in my yard!”
    HUH?
    My eyelids lifted. My eyeballs rolled around three times in their sprockets, then