“There’s
a lot of blood, but I can only see the left side of his face.”
“Put
your nose to the seat. See if you smell blood or powder,” Tucker advised.
Murphy
carefully laid the side of her face on the seat, her eye level with Blair’s
closed one. “Blood’s oozing on the seat. Must be the right side of his head,”
she said, cool in a crisis. “Pewter, sit in his lap and lean on the horn. I’ll
keep licking him.”
Pewter,
both paws on the horn, put her weight into it. The horn sounded.
“Who’s
going to hear it?” Tucker sat down. “Archie’s not here. Mom’s on her
tractor.”
“He’s
in a bad way.” Murphy kept licking Blair’s face. “We’ve got to do
something fast.”
“Let’s
think.” Pewter, over with Murphy now, put her paw on Blair’s wrist. His
pulse was erratic.
“We
could run back to Harry,” Pewter said.
“She’s
on the tractor. Can’t hear us. She might not notice us. We’ve got to convince
her to come over here.” Murphy checked the gearshift on the floor. “Tucker,
are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“It’s
his only chance,” the dog solemnly said.
“I
wish somebody would tell me!” an upset gray kitty exploded.
“We’re
going to drive this sucker,” Murphy resolutely stated.
“You’re
out of your mind!”
“Pewter,
go home then,” Murphy sharply told her. “Tucker, give him a shove.”
Tucker
nudged Blair with her front paws and her head. He slowly slumped over just a
bit more.
“Pewter,
are you in or out of this car?”
“I’m
in. What do you want me to do?”
“We’ve
got to get the car in first gear.”
“His
foot is on the clutch,” Pewter said.
“Okay,
Tucker, can you fit in down there?”
“Yes.”
“Sit
on his foot while Pewter and I push the gearshift into first. Then slowly move
his foot off the clutch and we’ll steer.”
“Won’t
work. We’ll stall out,” Tucker panted. “The trick is, I have to get his
foot off the clutch and mine on the gas pedal. Luckily his foot isn’t on the
gas pedal.”
“We
have to get this right on the first try.” Murphy crawled over into Blair’s
lap while Pewter sat in the passenger seat, patting his face with her paw.
The
idea was for Murphy to push the shift stick from the top while Pewter pulled
from the bottom.
“Ready?”
Murphy tersely asked.
“Yes,”
the other two replied.
The
cats moved the gearshift into first. That part was easy. The next part was hard
because if they stalled out they’d have to turn the key and feed gas at the
same time. They didn’t think they could do that.
“Tucker,
it’s better if we shoot ahead than stall out,” Murphy advised.
Pewter
had joined her in the driver’s seat. She stood on her hind legs, staring out
the window. Murphy sat in Blair’s lap, her paws on the bottom of the steering
wheel.
“God,
I hope this car is as responsive as all those ads say it is.” Murphy sent
up a little prayer to the Great Cat in the sky for Blair. “Let’s go.”
Tucker
pushed off Blair’s foot as she pushed down on the gas pedal with her right paw.
The car lurched forward and sputtered.
“More
gas.”
Tucker,
both feet free now, pressed on the accelerator.
The
car smoothly accelerated at amazing speed.
“Keep
on the road! Not so much gas!”
“Help
me,” Murphy called out.
Pewter,
claws unleashed, sank them into the leather steering wheel. She struggled to
keep the car on the gravel driveway. Even a small motion turned the wheels. “Tucker,
let up a little,” Pewter screamed.
“I’m
trying.” Tucker took her full weight off the flat pedal. “We’ve got it
now. We got it.”
“What
are we going to do when we get to the paved road?” Pewter shivered with
fear.
