The Adventures of Button by Richard W. Leech

Author:Richard W. Leech
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Children: Grades 3-4, Animals, Animals - Dogs, Juvenile Fiction, Children's Books, General, Dogs, All Ages, YA), Juvenile Fiction : Animals - Dogs, Animals - General, Animal stories (Children's, Juvenile Fiction : Animals - General
ISBN: 9781441591739
Publisher: Xlibris Corp
Published: 2010-08-15T07:00:00+00:00

The End

Mommy Kitty

Where she had come from, no one ever knew. None asked, and she talked very little about her background. One day, she had suddenly appeared, staying first at one home and then another. She took from one food bowl and then another. Most of the creatures, all pets of men, didn’t care. They had more than enough. One small nondescript tabby cat made no difference to them. Occasionally, one of the dogs could be heard barking as they chased her away, but she would be back. When they weren’t looking, of course.

But it was different with Buttons. She made it very clear that an interloper would not be tolerated. Buttons was even smaller than the cat, and possibly younger. The small Scottie still had her baby teeth, but she never hesitated to use them as everyone knew. Particularly Sally, whom Buttons had just met. They had become very close friends very quickly and fought long and furious battles, only now and then actually nipping one another. Their teeth were very sharp, as puppies’ teeth are. So care was the word of the day. Have fun. Lots of it. Rough and tumble, but no hurting.

Buttons did not include the cat among her friends. In a short time, everyone else would call her Mommy Kitty, for obvious reasons. She was always pregnant. Buttons didn’t care about the situation at all. Something was wrong, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Maybe just a dog-versus-cat kind—of thing. She didn’t know, and was always too busy to figure it out. Nonetheless, the black Scottie clearly remembered the first day. Too many birds and then the cat.

Crispin Chatterbox inquisitively cocked his head to one side for about the tenth time in the last thirty seconds, thinking to himself, “Well, here we go again.”

Crispin was like all grackles—nosy, noisy, and generally disliked. He was of less-than-normal size and always on the move. He impatiently hopped from one foot to the other, fretfully waiting for the action below to come to some fruition.

The object of his dancing stare lay roughly five and one half feet below him. A remarkable object it was, perched as it was on the rounded rear end of a small black dog furiously digging in the soft, red dirt of a beautifully organized garden.

Like a black, twisted worm, it bounced to and fro, carving crazy pirouettes in the air as dirt flew from between the dog’s hind legs. Small woofing noises were emitted at regular intervals, puffing out in jets of dirt which hung in the air about the rapidly enlarging hole.

A haughty crackling comment at Crispin’s side abruptly interrupted the grackle’s watchfulness and almost caused him to almost stop his dance in midair.

“I see that Button Benttail is at it again. Really, I don’t see what is so interesting about the silly activities of a mud-covered ground mutt. After all, it’s only bound to get her into more trouble.”

Crispin had immediately jerked around to face his unwelcome guest, who was, as expected, none other than that miserable, but very large, J.

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