Sneaky Pie for President (8 page)

“Never thought of that.” Sneaky lifted her eyebrows.

“Land creatures don’t. At least four feet is better than two. Two feet is ungainly, don’t you agree?” The fish dove down, then came up again.

“Mr. Rockfish, you probably don’t care much about human politics, but I want to run for president.” Sneaky smiled. “I’m sure you have concerns about pollution in the water.”

“Hell, yes. I think about the poor oysters in the Chesapeake Bay. The humans have created so much damage they have to reseed the Bay with sprats and pray they grow to be oysters. It’s working, some. In 2011, Chesapeake Bay oysters just for Virginia brought in well over eight million dollars—something, but a pittance compared to the past.”

“The humans are making a real effort to save the Bay,” said Sneaky. “Our human reads aloud to us about this because she cares about ‘Save the Bay.’ She says that the 2011 oyster catch was two hundred thirty-six thousand bushels, but in the nineteen sixties sometimes it was three million bushels a year!” Sneaky informed the small-mouthed bass.

“Good for the Bay. What about rivers?” The fish continued, “Listen, Pussycat, every drug a human gobbles up, for whatever reason, eventually finds its way into our waters.”

“What?” This surprised Sneaky.

“Drugs. They take prescription drugs, then pee them out. I mean, have you any idea how many chemicals are in
the water? Probably no one does, really, but us fish can tell you it sure is different nowadays. We know some of the plants we eat aren’t flourishing, stuff like that.”

Pewter said, “But they have water treatment plants.”

“For humans—as if they gave a fig about us. Some of these drugs are so new, no one knows the long-term effects—not for them, certainly not for us. Not all those chemicals break down. It’s like radioactivity; these humans love mixing up chemicals. Some stuff lasts a long, long time. If the hopped-up humans don’t eliminate the drugs from their bodies, sometimes they just flush the pills down the toilet, you know, what they don’t use. The drug has a date, they don’t need it anymore or the date is passed. Whoosh, comes down to us and it’s like an LSD trip,” the rockfish told them. “You never know what those humans are ingesting—sometimes when it ends up in our water, it’s like the sixties all over again. I’ll swim to a spot and I can taste it. I figure whatever that is, it came right out of the bottle. Believe you me, I swim the other way. Sometimes it’s poison. I just say no.”

“I never ever thought of that.” Sneaky was aghast.

“Not too many creatures have.” The rockfish then said in a happier tone, “We adjust, but you never know what’s just past that next bend in the river. Now that there are so many people, there’s more and more pollution. Don’t they taste it in the water? Are they really so ignorant?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” said Sneaky, “but I thank you for pointing me in the right direction. I need to learn more about this, though I’m not quite sure how. The two of us”—Sneaky indicated Pewter—“sit by that lady you mentioned when she gets on the computer or reads. We learn a lot then, but she totally hogs the Internet, so much so that on this fact-finding mission I’ve instead decided to talk to every creature I can. I believe it’s still possible to prevent humans from more and more self-destructive behavior.”

“What a mouthful,” said the bass. “I hope you can do it, but you’ll need land creatures. Us water dwellers can’t get to voting places. Even the giants, the saltwater mammals and huge fish, can’t leave the ocean. Now, they would have real pull! Humans just
love
whales—not so much rockfish.” He giggled, which came out as a burble.

The wind shifted, and they could again hear Tally’s singing.

“Tally, turn down the volume,” Pewter shouted.

“We can hear that noise even underwater, you know.” The fish burbled again. “Terrible, just terrible.” Then he sent up a little spout of water, which hit Pewter square in the face. Burbling again, he dove back under the water, the bubbles rising like pearls.

“I should have snagged him when I had the chance.” Pewter stepped back, wiped off her face.

“What an interesting fellow.” Sneaky watched Pewter sit on her haunches and use both her paws simultaneously.

The two cats walked back to the dogs.

“Ready?” Finally Tucker had had enough of Tally’s singing as well.

As the four walked through the meadows and back up to the barn, Tally continued to croon his tune.

“Tally, have mercy,” Tucker begged at last. Even the patient corgi had limits.

The Jack Russell stopped, twitched her white mustache. “I thought you liked my singing.”

Tucker was diplomatic: “Uh, perhaps less forcefully and less of it.”

“Tally, you sound like a scalded dog.” Pewter was less polite.

“Pewter, your nose is always out of joint.” Tally half closed her eyes before lunging for the cat’s tail.

The gray cat easily avoided this. “You might be fast in a straight line, half pint, but you will never have the fresh moves of a feline.”

As they climbed the hill, seemingly small in spring but it could send a car sliding backward in winter, they continued to chat.

“Did you watch the news this morning?” Sneaky asked Tucker.

“I heard it. Why? I mean, I was half asleep. It seemed boring.”

“I did,” Tally volunteered. “I watched the news. I was waiting to see if it would rain.”

“I know you saw it. You sat next to me on the chair.” Sneaky did love the little dog, silly though she might be.

“So why do you want to know if Tucker saw it?” asked Tally.

“Corgis have measured judgment.”

Tally didn’t really know what that meant, so she said nothing. Still, she was ready to disagree, in case she was being insulted.

Pewter sniffed. “The usual song and dance. I mean, even when these old white and now black guys quit running, they don’t shut up. I expect when more women run for office they’ll blab all day, too. They never shut up.” Pewter herself could go on and on at times.

“Well, what struck me was what these men do to their wives and families.” Sneaky felt the sun on her fur. It felt good. “They sacrifice their offspring to their careers.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s political or corporate life, does it?” Pewter flicked her tail to the left, as Tally was on her right. “Humans have screwy priorities.”

“I think it’s worse in politics because the wives have to pretend to agree with their husbands and the children have
to shut up.” Sneaky called up memories of First Ladies past.

“Those women have to know what they’re getting into,” Tally sensibly answered.

“I’m not sure anyone really knows how bad it is,” Sneaky replied. “But you are right. The wife is an adult. It’s the children I feel sorry for. And when they’re in the spotlight at that gawky stage, it must be painful for them.”

“Humans do go through an ugly phase.” Tucker laughed. “We don’t, ever notice?”

“The horses do,” Tally blurted out.

“Tally, shut up. What if they hear you?” Sneaky reprimanded the dog, for horses grazed nearby in various pastures.

Jones, the thirty-five-year-old Thoroughbred, lifted his head, mouth full of grass, then returned to grazing. That Jack Russell’s voice could cut glass. The old fellow was a friend to all.

“Well, they do,” Tally whispered. “Some horses look every bit as bad as some humans in their teens.”

“Be careful,” said Sneaky. “We wouldn’t want to damage anyone’s self-esteem. Self-consciousness never did anyone any good,” the tiger wisely added. “But what got me thinking about this is that Bible-thumper who thinks people will marry animals. There’s a whole segment of that strange thinking in one political party, not that the other
party doesn’t have some strange ideas, but at least they don’t focus on sex.”

“Sex with animals!” Tally screamed, and ran in circles.

“Tally, you need to be spayed. Honest to God.” Pewter wanted to knock the dog sideways.

“Calm down, Tally, calm down.” Tucker, who could best pacify the canine, did just that. “No one is going to sleep with you.”

“I would die. I would absolutely, positively die.” The little dog rolled her eyes, the whites showing.

“Folks like him always swear they are running for your children’s future and their children’s future. If you’re doing it for children, why are they ignoring the masses of human children living in poverty? The numbers are disgraceful and shocking.” Sneaky’s voice was clear.

“They’re all hypocrites,” declared Pewter, the realist, some might say cynic. The fat gray cat moved closer to Sneaky.

“You’re right,” said Sneaky. “They all lie. They say they care about their marriage, their children, but it’s all about them. Egotism. They imagine they have a higher calling than being a husband and a father. Selfish. Can you believe how deluded they are?”

“Yes!” barked Tally quickly. “And my voice is the only one amongst us that counts, since all three of you are spayed. So the solution to this kind of abandonment of
family is to neuter the humans who want to run for public office.”

“Excellent idea!” Sneaky agreed. “It will focus the men and calm the women. You are so right, Tally. I will definitely add that to my campaign platform: Spay or neuter your pols.”

Training Humans

Opened on the kitchen table,
The Wall Street Journal
caught the eye of both Sneaky and Pewter, both of whom had jumped on the kitchen table as soon as their human walked outside.

The forbidden ever entices.

“Hey.” Pewter clawed a newspaper photograph of a dog’s paw, bigger than her own.

The photograph covered nearly one quarter of the page.

“National Disaster Search Dog Foundation,” Sneaky read out loud. “What a good ad. Pewter, think of how many humans search-and-rescue dogs have saved in the last few years.”

“Well, the ad says it takes ten thousand dollars to train one dog. Do you think humans have at least enough good sense to give to the foundation?”

“Let’s hope so.” The tiger cat sat on the effective ad.

Pewter’s brilliant green eyes opened wide. “It’s in people’s self-interest to take care of the animals trained to help them. There are Seeing Eye dogs, dogs that hear for people, dogs that save people from attack. Dogs do a lot of work, I’ve got to admit. Of course, cats have saved people, too. Remember Homer, that cat who saved his human from an intruder standing right at the foot of her bed? And Homer’s not the only one. We cats fend off animals lots bigger than we are. I personally can be ferocious.”

“You’re scaring me,” Sneaky cracked.

“But back to this National Disaster Search Dog Foundation. And, of course, cats are superior. It’s just the two of us, I can speak frankly. For one thing, dogs can barely read. But you must give it to them, Pewter: They do these jobs better than we could.”

“It’s the digging. Tally and Tucker can ruin Mom’s garden in a heartbeat. Dogs can dig through rubble, and the big ones can pull people to safety. It is impressive.” She then lowered herself closer to the tabletop. “Did those two twits hear me?”

“No, they’re asleep.”

“Whew. There’d be no living with them.” Pewter exhaled.

“There’s no living with them now.”

They both laughed.

“They brag that their noses are so much better than ours. If their noses are so great, why are they always smelling the most disgusting things? We have good noses. I can smell anything that Tally and Tucker can smell—not that I’d want to.” Pewter put her paw on the ad paw, and it fit just inside the photo paw.

“Well, are their noses better, or do they smell scent faster?” asked Sneaky. “Think about how quickly foxes react. Can they smell us before we smell them?”

“No. Foxes really throw off, maybe even control, their odor, that odor, like a sweet skunk.” Pewter thought about this. “No, I don’t think foxes’ senses are better than ours or the domesticated dogs’, either.”

“Then why are they always ahead of us, and particularly ahead of the Can Opener?” Sneaky had watched her human try to take photographs of foxes time and time again. The foxes would invariably duck into their dens or just motor on.

“Maybe they do pick up scent before the rest of us. Foxes are uncanny.” Pewter respected the beautiful creatures.