Audrey (cow) Read online

  EDDIE

  (dog)

  “We need help, Audrey,” is what I said. “Jeepers, we’re trying to figure this out on our own, but we’re not up for the task. We need someone smarter.” Audrey nodded slowly. “Who did you have in mind?”

  BUSTER

  (pig)

  Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Well, I like solving puzzles, yes, yes, I do. Been like that all my life. Riddles and math problems, brain teasers, memory games, and uh, yes, yes, pattern recognition. Interesting story, I once came across a partly filled Sudoku puzzle on a piece of newspaper that blew right into my sty! And I, uh, I finished the rest of it in my head, yes, yes, I did. Way too soon, though. I wish I could have made it last longer. My brain is, uh, yes, yes, pretty big, you understand. It needs stimulation and exercise. Agnes comes around, yes, every so often to ask me a question. Things that keep her up at night, like, uh, oh my, well, mainly about space aliens. But other than that, no one is interested in my brain. Oh, no, no, no. No one is much interested in me, period. So I was, uh, quite, yes, quite surprised when Eddie and Audrey dropped by.

  EDDIE

  (dog)

  I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it earlier! Buster is the go-to pig for figuring things out. Gosh, he can stare at a bucket of animal feed and tell you what percentage is fish meal, corn kernels, alfalfa pellets or sunflower seeds! Dad told me that when Buster was a piglet, he not only figured out how to get into Farmer’s house, but he managed to open their fridge and get at a strawberry pie. And Dad said that was just the time Buster got caught! Jeepers, which means he was probably doing it a whole bunch of times before that. But the thing about Buster is that his confidence isn’t so great anymore, so you have to appeal to his self-esteem, otherwise fear can make him freeze up.

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  I forgot how much Eddie got around on the farm, and I really didn’t give him credit for the relationships he’d forged with all the animals, four-legged and otherwise. I would not have considered Buster as a source of expertise in the escape department. He always struck me as the nervous type, and a loner, and way more concerned about his next meal than even myself. Which only goes to show that I too have my blind spots.

  I followed Eddie to Buster’s pen. I kept quiet because it was clear that Eddie had been giving this meeting some thought. So as not to alarm him, Eddie casually said, “Buster, suppose, just for fun, that an animal wanted to escape Bittersweet Farm. Is it possible?” Nevertheless, Buster started hyperventilating on the spot. “W-w-why would an animal do that? Is s-s-something wrong with Farmer? Is he sick? Did he go broke? Are the food deliveries being canceled?” We needed ten full minutes to calm Buster down and reassure him that he’d still get fed. Eddie tried again, “Jeepers, it’s just a riddle. Everything’s fine. You’re brilliant at riddles, right, Buster? Now, I say it’s impossible to escape, but Audrey thinks it can be done. What do you think?”

  Buster didn’t even pause to consider. “Of course it’s possible. Can’t go through the fences, though, oh, no, no, no. Farmer checks them every year. Latches are easy to open, yes. The best bet would be to go, uh, yes, to go right through the front entrance. But it would be useless to do that, on account of all the fences separating the farms in the area. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, you’re sure to get caught out on the road in no time.”

  Buster turned toward his food trough to focus on what was left of his slop while Eddie and I shared a look of hopelessness. From what Mother had tried to tell me, I understood that I needed to find a way to reach the forest. Yet how could I reach it if the whole area is sectioned off with one fence after another, preventing me from going anywhere other than the road? It was so discouraging. But after a few mouthfuls, Buster said, “If an animal really wanted to escape for good, they’d have to do it while in transport.”

  EDDIE

  (dog)

  Audrey’s ears perked up, and darn tootin’, I knew why! See, Audrey’s mom had told her a story about two cows who tried to get away while being transported on a truck. But the confusing thing was that those cows got caught, so we weren’t sure what Buster meant. So Audrey asked him, “Would you agree that the forest is the best place to aim for?” Buster said, “Obviously. It offers camouflage and, uh, yes, yes, lots of hiding places.” Then Audrey said, “But it would be too dangerous to jump off a moving truck, and it would be pointless to wait for it to stop, so what do you mean, Buster? How could I—I mean, how could someone get the truck to stop by a forest?”

  BUSTER

  (pig)

  “Flat tire,” is what I said, yes, yes, I did. I would have thought that was obvious, but I, uh, no, no, I shouldn’t assume that everyone’s brain is as big as mine. They still couldn’t follow my thinking. I had to walk them through it. I said, “If you puncture a front tire beforehand, you can, uh, yes, yes, you can time the leak so that the tire flattens out right beside a forest. Get me a map, and I can do the calculations.”

  EDDIE

  (dog)

  Gosh, I’m thinking two things now. First, jeepers creepers, we just hit the jackpot! And second, where in the world are we going to get ourselves a map? But Buster is looking up at the position of the sun and telling me that there should be a map by the phone in Farmer’s kitchen and that it can be accessed through the open window over the sink. And if I go in exactly fifteen minutes, the Farmer children will still be in school, Farmer lady will be in the office doing the accounting, and Farmer will just be heading to the milking station.

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  Buster turned out to be a master strategist. At the designated time, Eddie jumped through the kitchen window and retrieved the map unseen, just as Buster predicted. Eddie rushed back to the pen and unfolded the map, and we both watched Buster study it carefully. Finally, he stuck his snout on a spot on a line next to a big patch of green. “Here,” he said. “That would be the best place to stop a truck if it was heading to Abbot’s War.” Those last two words took my breath away. Eddie didn’t catch on, but I was fully aware that we had never once mentioned Abbot’s War when we posed our escape riddle to Buster. I didn’t say anything, though. Meanwhile, Buster is making all these calculations in his head involving the pound per square inch pressure of a truck tire, the average speed a truck would be going, and the required size of hole needed to release enough air to cause a flat tire and make the driver stop on the road beside the forest. As Eddie would say, gosh! and jeepers creepers!

  BUSTER

  (pig)

  You don’t want to use a nail, no, no, no, because the air will go out too quickly. A screw is best for a delayed leak. Interesting fact: I have a collection of items I keep hidden away in the corner of my sty, yes, yes, I do. You never know when a piece of metal might come in handy.

  EDDIE

  (dog)

  He had pocketknives, bottle caps, saw blades, a flashlight, two license plates and even a tube of lipstick! From among all that, Buster roots out a six-inch screw and says that will do the job. Then it suddenly dawned on me—he was treating this pretend riddle as the real situation that it was. Which meant one of two things: he was either too caught up in the exercise to stop, or he knew what we were up to and was making himself an accomplice. In any case, we still had a problem. The screw needed to be mounted on a thin piece of wood so it could stand straight up, with the pointy part in the air. That’s where being a human with arms, hands and thumbs has its advantages. Fortunately, Audrey came up with a solution.

  ROY

  (horse)

  Heh, heh, heh. Oh, I reckon a carpenter would have approached the design with more grace, and certainly by using a screwdriver as well. But I appreciate that Miss Audrey came to me for assistance. Nothin’ like the strong clomp of a horseshoe to drive a screw through a piece of pine. I didn’t ask questions, by golly, even though only a few hours earlier, I’d spotted Eddie leaping in and out of the same window where I do my best carrot-mooching. But my interest was most definitely piqued.


  AUDREY

  (cow)

  One winter, I watched Middle Boy Lester make a ball of snow at the top of Viewing Hill. Once it reached the size of a curled-up lamb, he pushed it over the side. That ball of snow grew larger and larger as it picked up speed. That’s the best way I can explain how it felt to be caught up in Buster’s planning—things kept getting bigger and moving faster.

  BUSTER

  (pig)

  Well, time was a factor, and, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, there were still a lot more details to make this plan work. For example, I had to teach Audrey how to open a slide latch from the inside of the truck, yes, yes, I did. I have a similar one on my pen. When I was not so big as I am now, and not so nervous, no, no, no, I would take this twisty hook, which has a little doughnut hole lasso, that I could use to snag the bulb at the end of the bolt. Then I’d, yes, yes, pull it upward to get the bolt free so that I could take it out of the latch and then open the gate. Twelve seconds is my all-time best record.

  AUDREY

  (cow)

  Easier said than done, I’m afraid. Besides which, I had to learn how to keep that little contraption hidden in my mouth without swallowing it. So with only two days left until the truck arrived, whenever Farmer family was out of sight, I’d sneak into Buster’s pen and practice. Buster would motivate me with the egg timer he had borrowed from Farmer’s kitchen many years ago. Eventually I could do it, although not nearly as fast as General Buster would have preferred. I could only hope that the latch on the Abbot’s War truck would be no more difficult than the one I was already struggling with. Meanwhile, Eddie had to work on all the other parts of Buster’s plan.

  EDDIE

  (dog)

  Buster pointed out that the tire had to be punctured with the screw while the truck was in the farmyard. First we’d have to place the screw under the tire. Then, up in the cab, the gear needed to be shifted into neutral so we could roll the truck on top of the screw. “Jeepers!” I cried. “Pushing a truck is no easy business. Why the heck can’t we just let the driver drive the truck over the screw?” Pretty good thinking on my part, if I do say so myself. Buster simply sighed and rolled his little eyes and then explained that when the truck left Bittersweet Farm, the driver backed up fifty-two percent of the time, and drove forward forty-eight percent.… Gosh, some of the stuff Buster keeps in his head is a bit weird.

  In any case, the odds were too close to take a chance on putting the screw in front of the tire or behind, so pushing the truck ourselves was the only option. Obviously we couldn’t do that right under Farmer’s nose. Therefore a distraction would be required to keep all the humans busy while we performed the operation. What kind of distraction? One that I could scramble up in less than thirty-six hours!

  CLARK

  (sheep)

  Before we answer your question, let me be clear: we are a terribly misjudged group. What has been understood as random movement in which one of us changes position and the rest then follow brainlessly is untrue. Take the time to listen to our passionate bleats and you will see that a shift from one location to another has everything to do with the force of the argument being brought by a member of the flock. Sheep speak eloquently and are very convincing. If we all follow a ram one way, and then follow a ewe somewhere else, you can be sure it’s because we weighed the arguments and came to a hard-earned decision. There are much more weak-minded things to be in the world than a herd of sheep.

  LIONEL

  (sheep)

  Well said, Clark, well said. Ahem … the request was brought forward during one of our evening scrums. That is when the herd votes on the issues that need attention before we all retire for the night. We sleep on the decisions and then re-vote in the morning.

  BRIGIT

  (sheep)

  Unless, of course, a member wakes up and demands a debate prior to sunrise. Then, according to Rule 463-B of the Sheep Constitution, the herd is required to get up and hash out the concerns of that member to her or his satisfaction.

  LIONEL

  (sheep)

  Yes, good point, Brigit. Now, on the night in question, Eddie interrupted our meeting. He requested that we create a distraction at a certain place and time. This brought up an issue right away. We sheep are not in the habit of including any other animal, especially a sheep-dog, in our meeting. Max and his son, Eddie, are tolerated but not embraced. They are what we consider necessary evils.

  BRIGIT

  (sheep)

  What Lionel means is that we acknowledge that the sheep-dog does protect us from dangerous predators like wolves, foxes, etcetera, for which we are grateful. But we also point out that the sheep-dog’s duty is primarily to Farmer, and the rights of us sheep come second. Ultimately, the dog orders where we sheep are to go and how long we are allowed to stay there. Until sheep are granted full power to decide where on the farm we will graze, our sheep dignity is being denied, and we will be forever at odds with dogs such as Max and Eddie.

  LIONEL

  (sheep)

  Hear, hear, Brigit, well put. However, when Eddie approached us with his request, he was speaking on behalf of Audrey, which made the issue, well, less an issue.

  BRIGIT

  (sheep)

  Let it be known that we sheep wholeheartedly recognized and sympathized with Audrey’s plight as a food cow. If we hesitated in helping our sister in her time of need, it was because she did not seek us out first, but instead looked elsewhere.

  EDDIE

  (dog)

  Uh … no, the sheep weren’t our first choice. I figured that being, as they say, a sheep-dog, maybe … you know, maybe they wouldn’t take me seriously, asking them for something. They don’t really like my dad. They’re probably not thrilled with me either. But that’s not the only reason. You’ve heard how sheep talk, right? As a group, it takes sheep forever to make up their minds about anything. They just talk and talk and talk, and we really didn’t have that kind of time to spare. We only had a day and a half left! So first we went somewhere else for help.

  LORETTA

  (goose)

  Who’s asking? I’m just saying, who wants to know? Why do I want to know who wants to know? Listen, Bub, and you listen good. Loretta is not in the habit of blabbing her beak off to any stranger who comes snooping around with a load of questions. You got that? Loretta would prefer to know the purpose for this line of inquiry before she decides to cooperate. Am I getting through to you? Do I look like some pushover? Is there a sign hung on my tail feathers that reads “CHUMP”? No, there isn’t, is there? So let me repeat the follow-up question to the question asked of me: What is this all about, huh? … Oh, it’s about Audrey. Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place! Yeah, we did business with her.

  CYD

  (goose)

  Oh, my. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Dear interviewer, please do not be put off by Loretta. Her speech might be a tad crude, but her heart is golden, I assure you. Yes, it is true that a certain business meeting was conducted between the goose family and one Audrey the cow and one Eddie the dog. Let us not be coy here. We are all adults, are we not, and all of us are aware of the situation pertaining to Audrey, her predicament and her plan to remedy it. She needed a distraction to take place close to the Abbot’s War truck. We listened to her request, which is not a crime as far as I know. And let the record show that they approached us and not vice versa. We were minding our own business. As I recall, at the time, Loretta and I were discussing whether to take a stroll toward Artificial Lake.

  LORETTA

  (goose)

  Yeah, right. As I recall, we were discussing the fact that Cyd waddles like she’s wearing Little Girl Elspeth’s old baby diapers. Ha!

  CYD

  (goose)

  Pardon-moi? Loretta said what about me? She did? She mentioned the diaper comment? Really? Oh, my, I … I … I so wish that dear Loretta could hold her tongue. What I mean is, I would so, so appreciate it if my oldest and dearest friend could just shut her fa
t, blabby bill for one merciful second. Do you think that might be possible? Hmm? Do you think that maybe, perhaps, that annoying fowl might shut her stupid, ugly bill?

  LORETTA

  (goose)

  Cyd said that? Sounds like someone’s got her diapers twisted in a knot. Ha!

  CYD

  (goose)

  Aghhh! You tell Loretta that I will wring her neck! You tell her that if it’s the last thing I do, with my dying breath, I will wring her scrawny, stupid neck!