RED DOG

by

Jim Conrad

*****

COPYRIGHT MATTERS:

(c) Jim Conrad 2005

This publication is made freely available to anyone who wants it. 
You can  download it, print it on paper, and give it away if you 
want. You can even print it out, bound it and sell the finished 
product if you want. I got my payment knowing Red Dog. Just don't 
change around my words and thoughts. That's why I'm copyrighting it, 
to keep you from changing it.

If you feel like sending me a little money, then please feel free to 
do so. If you don't want to, don't feel bad. I'm just happy you were 
interested in what I had to say. Still, even a single dollar would 
be appreciated.

If you do want to send some money, please find a mailing address at 
www.backyardnature.net/j/writejim.htm

*****

DEDICATION: This book was written for my mother, Edna Taylor Conrad.

***************************

RED DOG ON THE PORCH

Red Dog was special.

He was not one of those dogs who with other dogs ran howling into 
the wind. He just loved walking with me. Sometimes, on the gravel 
road, he walked so close that his bright red fur brushed against my 
leg.

"Red Dog," I'd say, "each morning when we meet for the first time, 
why do you always look so glad?"

Of course, Red Dog never did reply with words. If he wanted to say 
something, he spoke with his eyes, or the bend in his tail. However, 
since we were friends, that was enough.

At night, Red Dog slept on the front porch. Lying there, dreaming 
dreams of long summer days and endless walks, his night-world filled 
up with the moon and stars, hoot-owl hoots, and ghostly white fogs 
that crept silently into the fields.

Between dreams, I think that Red Dog must have awakened, raised his 
head, and looked around. Maybe then he became a little lonely. And 
probably he wondered why I got to sleep inside, but he had to sleep 
on the porch...

But, you see, Red Dog lived in a time when country dogs such as he 
were not allowed inside their masters' homes. In those days, most 
people didn't even believe that dogs had feelings, though I did.

Yes, during those days when we walked in the fields and woods, Red 
Dog and I helped one another see things in special ways. Weedy 
roadsides were like museums and the fields of corn and beans around 
us were like circuses with many rings.

*****

MYSTERIES

In Red Dog's life, no mystery was greater than that of the house.

Though Red Dog could romp in any field or woods, or take a nap 
beside any road or ditch, never could he enter the house. The only 
place I ever went without him was into the house. If I came outside 
wearing clothes different from those I had worn when I entered the 
house, Red Dog would look at me in amazement.

"Red Dog," I'd say, "do you think that when I go inside the house I 
become someone else? Do you think that inside the house I travel to 
other worlds, or do magical things? When you stand beside the screen 
door hearing voices and music on the radio, do you think that inside 
I'm having a party with elves and gnomes?

Sometimes I laughed when I thought about what Red Dog must have 
imagined as he sat outside the screen door. Yes: What went on inside 
Red Dog's mind was my favorite mystery.

Once I thought about letting Red Dog come inside -- just for a few 
moments -- so I could watch his face as he looked around.

But, I never did.

*****

CRICKET CHIMES & SUNLIGHT

"Nowadays," I said to Red Dog, "I think that every single moment, 
day and night, we can hear crickets chirping."

Walking along the gravel road, I saw yellow sunlight and cricket 
chirps mingle together so that they became just one thing -- a 
beautiful kind of sunlight-music!! And this sunlight-music was 
something that we could walk through...

"But, sometimes I forget to listen to the crickets, and I forget to 
feel the sunlight," Red Dog heard me say. "For example, Red Dog, 
sometimes I have thoughts that make me sad... "

For a second a sad thought crossed my mind. However, then I 
remembered that sunlight mixed with cricket chirps becomes something 
cheerful to walk through, so I just kept walking, feeling good 
again.

"Red Dog," I said, "whenever we want to be happy, we should just 
listen for crickets, and walk outside so that sunlight can play on 
our faces and arms. Why, maybe if we'd pay attention to crickets and 
sunlight all the time, we'd never feel sad. Red Dog, what causes us 
sometimes to forget to listen to crickets, and to notice how cheery 
the sunlight around us is?"

To see what Red Dog thought, I glanced down to see the expression on 
his face. But, he wasn't there. Then I looked behind me. Far away, 
with his nose poked into the grass, Red Dog was sniffing at a 
mouse's trail.

"He hasn't heard a word I've said," I whispered to myself. "However, 
just because I thought he was listening, I spoke all those words 
about sunlight and cricket-chirps, and that made me happy. Yes: Red 
Dog is good for me, even when he's just being himself and not 
thinking about me at all... "

I waited for Red Dog to catch up. Maybe he didn't understand why I 
knelt beside him and hugged him when we were together again.

*****

THE POND

The whirligig-beetle spun its whirlpool on the pond's surface. Of 
course, when Red Dog reached out with his paw to touch the 
whirlpool, the whirlpool shattered and the whirligig-beetle 
skittered toward the pond's center.

When the water's surface was quiet again, it reflected the bright, 
silvery sky. Seeing this, I remembered last winter when the pond was 
bright and silvery because it was covered with ice. Oh, Red Dog and 
I remember what a hard winter that one was!

In fact, when March came and the pond thawed, we couldn't find a 
single live fish in it. They'd all frozen and died... !

Therefore, one morning in April, Red Dog and I went to Semiway Lake 
and caught a dozen pregnant, mother minnows. We carried them home in 
an old pickle jar and we let them go in this pond.

And then, before long, each minnow mother gave birth to dozens of 
minnow children, and soon those minnow children were grown, bearing 
their own children. Now hundreds of minnows played at the water's 
surface. Now the pond was alive with minnow-made ripples and all 
kinds of cheerful gurgles and splashes.

"Red Dog," I said, "the fish we turned loose here last April seemed 
lost and afraid. But now that summer is here they know that this is 
their home, and they are happy. In March, this pond was such a sad 
place, but now it is happy again... "

Below, reflected on the water's surface, Red Dog saw me drawing 
close to hug him.

"Before you came to me, Red Dog," I said, "I was like this pond in 
March. But, now I have you... 

*****

JUNE APPLES

"Curse those June apples," I growled. "June apples... June... 
June... applesssssssss... "

And then I slept until another awakening.

However, Red Dog did not sleep at all. He worried about who or what 
was making those horrid noises. He whined and scratched at the 
screen door.

Usually, with a touch of my hands or the look of my face, I could 
tell Red Dog what he needed to know. However, that night, no hands 
or eyes could say, "Red Dog, it's just June apples falling onto the 
shed's tin roof."

When morning came, Red Dog and I ate breakfast in a place different 
from usual. As the sun burned dew off spiderwebs and grassblades, we 
ate beneath the apple tree beside the tractor shed. It was not long 
before the thing I was waiting for happened:

Bang!

A June apple dropped from the tree, rumbled across the tin roof, 
fell over the shed's eaves and plopped onto the ground at Red Dog's 
feet.

In an instant Red Dog understood the who and the what of the night 
before. He looked at me and his face laughed in a way that said, 
"So, now I understand... !"

*****

GARDEN RABBIT

"Woof?" Red Dog asked.

I knew exactly what was on his mind.

That spring, every day blackbirds had come to our garden pulling up 
our corn-sprouts. Each evening, groundhogs had stuffed themselves 
with our sprouting bean-plants, and during the nights cutworms had 
chewed down our cabbage sets.

Then all summer Red Dog and I had worked hard in our garden. We had 
replanted every cabbage plant and each evening we had stayed outside 
chasing away groundhogs. We'd even put up a scarecrow to keep away 
the blackbirds. So now, at summer's end, the corn stood tall, and 
heavy clumps of beans hung from all the bean-vines.

That evening animals were visiting us again. Taking dust-baths 
between rows of corn, a dozen noisy house-sparrows fluttered on the 
ground. Above the big, round heads of cabbage flitted a dozen white 
cabbage-butterflies. And among the pepper plants at the garden's far 
end, a rabbit reared on his hind legs gazing at us, sniffing the air 
with his little black nose...

"I see him," I said to Red Dog. "Well, if he needs something from 
our garden, let's let him take it. Maybe this summer we haven't 
shared enough with our neighbors. You know, Red Dog, when I see 
these animals, I become even happier than when I gather tomatoes, 
squash and beans... "

Red Dog sniffed the air, then sent a low growl toward the rabbit. It 
was clear that he didn't like my new garden-sharing idea.

However, before long Red Dog lay sleeping in the low-slanting 
afternoon sunlight, stretched between two rows of onions... while a 
white cabbage-butterfly perched playfully on his wet nose.

*****

LIGHTNING BUG

At night, a lightning bug should hang like a star above the bushes, 
or swoop like a meteor above the grass. Its brilliant yellow light 
should flash on and off like an eye blinking again and again. 

However, that night, our lightning bug was not like that at all. It 
floated in the water at the pond's edge, and its light was nothing 
but a sad glimmer. Who knows what misfortune had put it there? 

Kneeling in the darkness I dipped the firefly into my hands. When 
all the water had leaked through my fingers, like a piece of dead, 
waterlogged wood, the poor beetle lay on its back in the palm of my 
hand. 

But then in the darkness a warm night breeze began stirring and 
streaming around us, helping the bug to dry out. Finally, 
hesitantly, the creature rolled onto its feet, turned off its dim 
glow completely, and pulled itself to the top of one of my fingers. 
As the minutes passed I felt the grasp of six tiny feet upon my 
finger slowly growing stronger.

Therefore, I was not surprised at all when from its belly finally 
there exploded a bright flash of light. It was a yellow light, 
brilliant as a daffodil in spring. 

Then came a second, even stronger, flash. If Red Dog could have seen 
my face then, he would have seen me smiling. 

Then in the darkness I heard the whir of tiny wings and suddenly a 
splendid yellow light streaked from my hand. Like a statue in the 
darkness I stood watching as our lightning bug's flashes became lost 
among the soft, yellow callings of ten thousand other lightning 
bugs.

"Red Dog," I whispered, "in tonight's darkness, carrying a beautiful 
yellow lantern, we have a tiny brother... 

*****

GRASSHOPPER DANCES

Chewing green leaves, grasshoppers perched on every plant.  The 
fields and roadsides were like too-crowded grasshopper cities. 

All around us grasshoppers jumped into the air, fluttered their 
bright yellow and black wings, and made crackling noises. Like crazy 
Ping-pong balls not caring where they went, sometimes they smacked 
into my legs, and the bottom of Red Dog's belly. 

"Oof!" Red Dog grunted when that happened. Then he'd snap at those 
grasshoppers as if they were horseflies trying to bite. 

That afternoon I carried in my shirt pocket a small radio. As hot 
afternoon wind blew through tall corn in the fields around us, the 
music played and like brown popcorn popping out of the earth 
grasshoppers sprang all around us. Sometimes, when the music was 
prettiest and fluttering, crackling grasshoppers swirled around us 
like autumn leaves, Red Dog lept into the air, grunted and snapped 
and I... I found myself dancing.

Ah, that day the whole world wanted to dance!

*****

EMERGENCY!

"Red Dog!" I yelled, "what are you doing?" 

Fluttering their wings and screaming in terror, four baby robins 
cowered helplessly in the grass before Red Dog. Their mother flitted 
above them screaming and snapping her wings in the air, but she was 
too afraid of Red Dog to do anything else. 

Red Dog's eyes laughed at what he thought was a funny game. His wet, 
pink tongue dangled from a broad dog-smile. Then, as if to say that 
he really liked to meet young birds, he planted a generous tongue-
lick upon one of the nestlings. The lick sent the baby bird tumbling 
backwards in the grass.

Aooouuuuuuuuu... !!!" Red Dog howled.

Thinking that Red Dog was trying to eat her baby, the mother robin 
had overcome her fear, dropped from the sky, and dug her sharp claws 
into Red Dog's scalp! 

Yelping more from surprise than from being hurt, Red Dog escaped 
around the corner of the house, his tail crooked between his legs. 

"Red Dog," I called, laughing, "today you have discovered that 
certain things are not to be played with!" 

And then the brave mother robin dropped toward my own scalp and I, 
too, yelping more from surprise than from being hurt, escaped 
yelping around the corner of the house.

*****

THE BULLFROG

"Harump! Harump! Harump!" 

The old bullfrog's powerful harumping boomed upward, filtered 
through the willow tree's slender branches, and blossomed into the 
blue sky. Even if we'd been standing deep inside the bean field we'd 
have heard it:

"Harump! Harump! Harump!" 

On the pond's opposite bank, maybe I was smiling a little. Maybe in 
Red Dog's eyes a special glisten shined. But, then...

The dark, stiff, shiny head of a water snake emerged from the pond's 
surface. Red Dog's eyebrows tensed and I held my breath. Neither he 
nor I moved or made a sound.

Silently as a shadow the snake swam to the opposite bank and 
slithered into the grass. So slowly that we couldn't see him moving 
at all he began inching toward the harumping bullfrog. For ten 
minutes he got closer and closer and closer... and the old frog just 
kept harumping.  Red Dog's eyebrows quivered as he glanced toward me 
in a way that said he didn't understand why I wasn't doing something 
to save the old frog.

Splash!

A mighty leap carried the old frog far into the pond. By the time 
I'd moved my eyes from the pond back to shore, already the snake had 
disappeared.  Red Dog and I stood up.

"Red Dog," I explained, "to me that water snake was as beautiful as 
the old frog. If we had tried to save the frog, then I would have 
felt bad for having taken the snake's meal from him." 

I doubted if Red Dog understood my explanation.  However, I am 
certain that he sensed how relieved I was that the old frog had 
escaped.

*****

THUNDER RUNNER

Sometimes, before summer rainstorms arrive, you hear a special kind 
of thunder. It's thunder sounding like a hundred sleepy cows walking 
slowly across a long, invisible, wooden sky-bridge.

Red Dog liked to chase that kind of thunder. 

One afternoon, from a storm coming from far beyond Clint Nall's 
tobacco field, sky-bridge thunder-rumble made Red Dog's ears stand 
straight up. He stopped dead in his tracks and gazed across the 
field with his "searching-for-something-special" look. I knew 
exactly what he was thinking.

"Red dog... no!

But already he had leapt across the ditch. Already he was bounding 
like a mad-dog through Clint's tobacco field, his head thrown back, 
laughter-like barks gushing from his throat, and his scrambling paws 
throwing up dust. 

The tobacco plants were tall as a man's head and every leaf was 
broad as a kite. As Red Dog ran through them I heard leaves tearing 
and being trampled onto the ground. Every step that Red Dog took 
caused poor Clint to lose another dollar.

"Red Dog!" I called, "come back!" 

But, there was no reason to call. Already Red Dog was too far away 
to hear. Now he was rampaging across Clint's soybean field. I knew 
that Red Dog would keep going until the thunder stopped. I knew that 
when the time came for him to catch his breath, he'd stop, look 
around and then understand just how far he'd run. He'd have to walk 
a long time before catching up with me.

I thought of Red Dog chasing thunder and of his running through 
Clint's tobacco. I thought about my standing all alone on the gravel 
road. And as I turned homeward I laughed a laugh so unexpected that, 
up on the telephone wire, the mockingbird paused while singing his 
before-the-rain-comes song...

*****

RAIN

Across the bean field, sweeping toward us like a thundering 
waterfall, the fantastic white curtain of rain poured from a dark 
cloud. As in a dream when something huge and terrible comes chasing, 
the rain was catching up with us as we ran toward home. 

"Red Dog, go on home!" I commanded. I was too slow to outrun the 
rain but maybe Red Dog could.

Of course, Red Dog stayed with me.

When the air began smelling of ozone, and huge, widely spaced 
raindrops made mud-craters in the dust along the roadside, we 
understood that soon the flood would catch us.  Yes, this rain would 
drench us and soak us to the bone. Causing ear-splitting cracks of 
thunder, the lightning began striking all around us. 

"Red Dog," I said, "let's sit at the road's edge. This lightning 
frightens me. If we stay low and don't go near tall trees or 
telephone poles, it won't hurt us. Let's just sit here and let the 
rain come... "

There was nothing bad about the storm. The rain was warm and it made 
everything so fresh. A billion, billion friendly raindrops washed us 
and tickled our backs. Lifting my face, I let raindrops explode 
inside my whiskers. Raindrops splattered into Red Dog's eyes, making 
him blink and smile. 

The lightning stopped before the rain did. Without thinking, I stood 
and looked across the fields, and Red Dog stood with me. We saw 
waves of wind and rain making a joyful storm. And how alive the 
whole world seemed!

"Rain," I called, throwing open my arms and laughing, "Red Dog and I 
thank you!" 

*****

RAINBOW

And what happened even before the rain ended? The sun began shining. 
When that happens, you need to look for rainbows, and that is 
exactly what we did. 

With my back toward the sun I looked up. There, in front of me, 
shining like bright ribbons strung across the sky, hanged a perfect 
rainbow.

"Red Dog," I whispered breathlessly, look!

Red Dog glanced in every direction, then into my face. He seemed to 
be asking what I was seeing.

"Don't you see the rainbow?" I asked. "Look!"

Again Red Dog searched in every direction. However, still he acted 
as if nothing in the sky seemed very special. 

Finally I remembered. Once, long ago, I read something in a book 
that even then made me sad. It said: 

"Dogs do not see colors. For all practical purposes they are 
colorblind."

"Red Dog," I said, with great sadness in my voice, "I'm sorry that 
you do not see this rainbow, for beholding it fills me with a kind 
of joy  I would like to share with you... " 

When Red Dog heard the sadness in my voice, he also became sad. He 
leaned against my leg and gently licked my hand. He was saying that 
he felt the same way I did, even though he did not understand what 
was wrong.  

"Red Dog," I said, feeling much better, "to you my voice is like a 
rainbow, and you hear every color in it." 

I laughed and the rainbow grew brighter. Hearing my laughter, Red 
Dog's eyes became cheerful again, and themselves became like 
rainbows.

*****

THE DEWDROP

Sometimes, on the tip of a blade of grass, a droplet of dew reflects 
sunlight in a special way. Like a diamond bursting with rainbow 
colors, it makes you stop and look. 

That morning I was searching for a droplet of rainbow dew. When I 
found one, however, it wasn't on the tip of a blade of grass.

"Red Dog," I said, "look at that dew-drop on the long black hair of 
my big toe. Look at how it sparkles yellow and green, then red and 
blue... " 

I held my foot out of the grass so that Red Dog could see. My toe 
looked as if it wore a sparkling diamond ring.

Slurp!

Red Dog hadn't understood. He had thought that I wanted my big toe 
licked. He had licked away my rainbow dew... 

"Some things," I thought to myself, "like special kinds of dew-
drops, a human cannot share with a dog, even a dog like Red Dog.

I laughed and patted Red Dog so that he never knew what he had done 
wrong.

*****

HOUND DOG

As if he had every right to be there, the old hound dog rushed into 
our backyard and sniffed at everything he found. When he saw how 
empty Red Dog's food dish was he frowned at us in a way that said we 
should have had food waiting for him. 

Red Dog and I could not believe that any dog could be so rude! 

His ears and jowls hang so loosely that every step he took his face 
shook and made sloppy sounds. He stank and drooled. His huge feet 
were caked with mud from wandering all night in the fields.

And in his eyes there was the look of being lost. 

I was so used to Red Dog's good manners, dignified appearance and 
self confidence that as I watched the old hound I felt queazy. Even 
Red Dog seemed half afraid and half ashamed. Quivering, he sneaked 
around to stand behind me. 

"Red Dog," I said, "he's run away from that 'coon hunter we heard 
last night in Bryant's Woods. I'll see if the owner's name is on his 
collar... "

Holding out my hand, I walked toward the old hound.

"Aoouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu... !"

On legs that could not carry him fast enough, the sad-looking dog 
shot into the cornfield, his eyes ablaze with fear, his pitiful 
howls sounding as if they came from something dying. Only when he 
was deep inside the cornfield did he quieten down. 

"I'm glad that this happened, Red Dog," I said. "Every day we should 
remember that the lives you and I share are very special, and that 
at any moment things could change. Today we must live every second 
as if tomorrow our own lives will become like the life of that poor 
old hound.

*****

THE CORNFIELD

Like two bugs daydreaming in tall grass, Red Dog and I sat in the 
middle of the cornfield. 

"Red Dog," I said, "I feel as if we are in a beautiful cathedral. 
Sunlight filtering through these corn blades is like light streaming 
through stained-glass windows. These long, straight corn-rows are 
the cathedral's rows of seats and the wind rustling through the 
corn's leaves is the shuffling of a thousand people as they kneel 
with their heads bowed in prayer." 

Red Dog looked at me in a way that let me know just how bored he was 
with simply sitting in the middle of a big cornfield.

"So why do I tell you these things?" I asked. "How can you know what 
I'm talking about when you've never even seen a cathedral?"

I stood up and began beating dust from my britches.

"Oh-oh," I said. "Red Dog, I've forgotten which way we came from. 
The sun is right overhead so I can't use it to figure out which way 
is east or west. Red Dog, I don't know which way to go!" 

Red Dog wasn't upset at all. He didn't even seem to notice that I 
was lost. He just stood up, shook the dust from his red fur, sniffed 
the ground and found the odor of our trail. Then he began leading 
toward home without any fuss.

"Red Dog," I said as I followed, "I know many things that you do 
not. However, so often, you are the one who must lead...

*****

SNAPPING TURTLE

Red Dog's ears stood straight up as the rustle in the tall grass 
grew louder and louder. When the grass began swaying his ears 
drooped in uncertainty. When at last our  visitor plopped onto the 
gravel road, Red Dog was standing behind me with a nervous look in 
his eyes.

"Welcome to the gravel road," I laughed, speaking to the turtle. 
"Mr. Snapping-Turtle, meet Red Dog, a dog who used to believe that 
all turtles were small and always stayed in ponds. Red Dog, meet Mr. 
Snapping-Turtle, the biggest, crankiest turtle in these parts. His 
ditch has dried up so now he's out exploring and looking for a new 
home." 

With grassblades and dust sticking to his wet, moss-covered shell, 
the big, green turtle just sat on the road and looked at us. When 
Red Dog stepped from behind me, I knew that he wanted to see what 
this new discovery smelled like. 

"No!  Red dog," I warned. "If you sniff this critter, he'll snap off 
your nose!" 

To teach Red Dog an important lesson, I held a stick in front of the 
old turtle. In half a second his powerful jaws snapped the stick in 
two. The bite made such a loud crunching noise that Red Dog jumped 
with fright, and I did, too.

"Grrrrrrrrr... " Red Dog complained, as if to say, "We can't let 
this monster stay loose! What are we going to do about him?"

Then I taught Red Dog another important lesson: I just walked away, 
and called for him to follow.

*****

DOEBUCK

In coveralls and a baseball cap the old man came riding his bicycle 
down our gravel road. 

"Doebuck," I greeted, "what brings you to Semiway?"

Red Dog ran up and licked Doebuck's hand. 

"Yessir," Doebuck replied, "I come to see The President! This 
morning, I go take Miss Nette her mail, and Little-Bear Austin, he 
stop and ask me if I see The President, and when I say no, he say, 
well, The President, he out in Semiway politicking and people like 
Doebuck, they need to go see him. So, here I am... "

Doebuck grinned and looked across the wide field of soybeans, 
looking for The President. 

"Doebuck, The President didn't come today," I said. "It was very 
nice of you to want to welcome him, but here there are only Red Dog 
and me."

Doebuck looked a little hurt.

"Well," he finally said with a smile, "I see a lot of pretty country 
today so now I go back home.

And then he simply mounted his bicycle and began the five-mile 
journey back to town.

"Red Dog," I said, "everyone plays tricks on Doebuck. But there is 
no one better than he in all the world. He is gentle as a child and 
wiser than any of us. The President should have come here just to 
meet him." 

"And you, Red Dog," I continued, "you licked his hand. No one needed 
to tell you what a good person Doebuck is."

*****

AFTERNOON WIND

Like curtains at an open window, the Weeping Willow's long branches 
billowed in hot wind. In front of the house, the sunny fields of 
tall corn made a green ocean, and the wind in the corn made green 
waves. Beside the porch, wind blowing through the maple tree's 
quaking leaves sounded like a soft rain falling.

Also that day, just to have something to do, the three Dukes girls 
came walking down the gravel road in front of our house. They joked 
and laughed with one another, and their long dresses and long hair 
swirled and danced in the hot breezes. As they walked on the road 
they reminded me of bright little clouds sailing across the blue 
summer sky. 

"Red Dog," I said, "why do these girls walking down the road seem so 
lovely to me? When they laugh, even though I don't know what's so 
funny, why do I also laugh?" 

With a special look in his eyes, Red Dog gazed toward the gravel 
road.

"Ruff!"  he replied with what obviously was a dog-laugh.

"Red Dog," I laughed in return, "maybe you and I have invented a new 
kind of laughter. If we have, let's call it 'joining-with-laughs-
that-are-carried-in-summer-wind-laughter'."

Then Red Dog laughed again, and I did, too.

*****

BEING NATURAL

One afternoon the Dukes Girls were passing by just as Red Dog 
returned from a short walk. Red Dog carried something in his mouth 
and it didn't take me long to figure  out what it was. I heard 
Maggie Dukes cry:

"Weeeeeooooooooooooo!   What's that dog gotten in to?"

It was just that in the woods that day, Red Dog had found a dead, 
rotting raccoon that smelled terrible to human noses but, to him, 
smelled like Heaven itself. He had wallowed in the raccoon's 
stinking corpse, and now he was carrying it home. Maybe he wanted to 
give it to me as a present. This is something a country dog will do, 
even a good one like Red Dog!

Maggie picked up a handful of gravel and threw it at Red Dog. Mattie 
ran behind a tree, holding her stomach. Rene hit her fist in her 
hand and screamed that Red Dog should go away. 

Red Dog couldn't understand why everyone was angry. One of Maggie's 
gravels hit him on the ear, hurting his pride so much that he 
dropped the raccoon and ran toward the house.

I understood why everyone was so angry. I could smell Red Dog's 
prize a hundred feet away! 

Yet, also, I understood why Red Dog was so hurt and confused. I 
wanted to hug and pat him when he came onto the porch. However, I 
was a human like Maggie, Mattie and Rene...

Holding my nose, I ran around the house's corner. Seeing me run 
away, Red Dog's feeling were hurt again.

Red Dog was just being natural that day. But, so was I.

*****

THE TRICK

"Buenos días Señor Red Dog," I said.   "Anoche soñé que éramos 
pájaros, y que volamos con alas por la música. Cada vez que oímos 
los violines y cellos, volamos por nubes de colores distintos... "

Red Dog's eyes sparkled with what at other times I would have 
considered to be understanding. My trick was working... 

"Y, ¿es que me entiendes, aunque sé por cierto que nunca has oido 
ninguna palabra de español en toda tu vida?" I asked with a mocking 
laugh.

Thinking I had said, "Let's take our morning walk," Red Dog led 
toward the gravel road, glancing at me over his shoulder.

But... Red Dog was not catching on to what I was doing. I began 
feeling ashamed for tricking him. 

"And I even use a language I learned when every day I lived my life 
without you, Red Dog," I said in English. "I thought it would be 
funny to see what you did if today I spoke nothing but Spanish. But 
now I feel as if I've betrayed you... "

Hearing the remorse in my voice, for the first time Red Dog sensed 
that I was saying something different from what I always say. He 
came and stood close by me, for this was his way of comforting me. 

I hugged the big red dog, and then we walked on the gravel road.

*****

CHURCH HILL

From the cemetery atop Church Hill, everything for miles around 
could be seen. In the summer sky above the hill, every day swallows 
came chattering, swooping for insects. Even on the hottest days cool 
breezes moved among the tombstones. 

That day, even before reaching the hill's top, from deep inside the 
woods, we smelled something special. It was the odor of freshly 
broken earth mingling with smells of crushed grass and wilting 
roses.

"Funeral... "  I whispered to Red Dog.

Reaching the woods' edge we saw that the funeral was over and the 
hearse was pulling away. Red dirt already had been piled atop the 
casket and now wilting flowers made into wreaths and bouquets lay 
strewed atop a grave. Maybe Red Dog, who knew nothing of funerals 
and graves, imagined that the people in the hearse had just planted 
a flower garden among the tombstones.

As I stood wondering what Red Dog was thinking, honeybees came 
visiting the fading roses. 

"These honeybees know that they have found something special," I 
mused as Red Dog listened, "but they will never understand why all 
these flowers are here today." 

"Red Dog," I continued after thinking for a while, "in so many ways 
you and I are like honeybees who every day find heaps of beautiful 
flowers. Yet, neither do we understand the reason why..."

*****

FEELING OLD

On a windy afternoon when the cornfields were green oceans and hot 
wind made green waves... I felt old... 

"Red Dog," I said, "sometimes when I rub my whiskers, I feel my 
father's face. Sometimes when I look at this sun-browned, tough, old 
skin on my arms, I remember how when I was a child I sat beside my 
father as he drove a team of horses through these fields. To make 
this farm, my father and grandfather drained a swamp and cut and 
burned its trees. When I was young the dirt in these fields smelled 
like swamp mud and wood ashes, but now that odor is gone. Red Dog, 
sometimes when we walk through these fields I feel like dried-up ink 
in an old book."

Red Dog walked beside me. His red hair glowed in the afternoon 
sunshine like a fire in the woods. His lips and tongue were wet and 
his eyes sparkled like cold water at the surface of a forest pond... 
like stars on a clear, winter night when the wind blows. And when he 
looked at me, his face was like that of a baby squirrel seeing the 
sky for the first time.

"Red Dog," I said, "walking with you keeps me young."

*****

SAD CLOWNS

Red Dog was not the same dog every day. Some mornings he'd greet me 
on the porch with a funny look on his face. I could only guess what 
was happening inside his head.

If he had been a human, we'd have talked. However, he was just a dog 
so all we could do was to look at one another in a way that said, 
"Everything is OK; don't worry."

That day, I also felt different. Who knows why? 

"Red Dog," I said, "the sky is bluer today than it has been all 
year. Last night the air was more crisp than on any other of 
summer's nights. Summer is changing to fall, Red Dog. Can that be 
why we feel this way today?"

Red Dog looked at me, then turned away.

"Today the Monarch Butterflies fly high in the sky, migrating south 
for the winter," I continued. "How beautiful they are against the 
blue sky! Why... yes, Red Dog, that's how I feel. It's so beautiful 
today and the weather is so good and gentle, but somehow it seems to 
me that the sky is a huge blue eye crying hundreds of tiny, orange 
tears. Red Dog, if that is the way the sky seems to me today, then I 
must feel like a sad clown!"

I was glad to express the exact way I felt that day, but I still had 
no idea how Red Dog was feeling.

"Arf!" 

With a sparkle in his eye, Red Dog took off down the gravel road, 
chasing a rabbit. 

"Ah," I laughed to myself, "whatever he felt like a moment ago, 
right now he feels like chasing a rabbit!"

*****

ORANGE & SILVER MOONS

"Red Dog," I said, "when the moon lies low in the sky, it's usually 
orange. However, when it rises high, as it is tonight, it becomes 
silvery white. Do you know why?"

Red Dog lay at my feet as I swung beneath the maple trees. He cocked 
one ear and looked sideways at me. He didn't even bother to lift his 
head from the ground. He knew from the tone of my voice that I was 
saying nothing worth listening to.

"When the moon is low and close to the Earth," I began, "it hears 
what people are talking about. It hears people laughing and crying 
and singing songs. Red Dog, when the moon hears the earth's people 
so close beneath it, what else can it do but glow a cheerful 
orange?"

"But, when the moon is high... "

I looked beyond the maple's highest limbs and saw again that the 
moon was very high and very silvery white. 

"When the moon is high," I continued, "it is so alone. Then it hears 
only the stars whispering and what it hears is from so very far 
away. Red Dog, silvery white is the color of loneliness... "

Red Dog stood and looked at me. Seldom had he heard me speak so long 
when I sat alone in the swing at night. 

Looking high into the sky, Red Dog saw the silvery-white moon. Then 
he looked into my face. I am sure that he understood what I had 
said.

*****

THE LETTER

At 10:30 that morning, as on every weekday and Saturday  morning, a 
long, straight feather of brown dust rose on the gravel road. Where 
the feather began, a blue car rumbled. When the blue car stopped in 
front of our house, the dustcloud seemed to catch the car and eat 
it...

"Mail's in," I called to Red Dog as the blue car pulled away.  

Red Dog and I walked to the mailbox at the end of the lane. Until 
that moment, not a word, not a step or motion had been different 
from the way it had been at 10:30 on hundreds of other mornings.

I took a letter from the box, tore open the envelope, read what was 
inside, and returned to the house. 

Red Dog knew that something unusual had happened. Because, never had 
I read the mail before returning to the  house. Because, never had I 
dropped an envelope onto the ground without retrieving it. Because, 
never had I neglected to close the mailbox's door...

Yes: When the envelope fluttered to the ground, Red Dog's eyes had 
opened wide. As if to see if I were still myself, he came and 
sniffed my foot. When I returned to the house with the envelope 
still on the ground and the mailbox door still open, Red Dog just 
stood looking at me without following.

Never had Red Dog let me walk away without following...

That day, at 10:30 AM, the long, straight feather of brown dust had 
brought me something that for the rest of the day would keep Red Dog 
and me from sharing our hours as easily as we had done hundreds of 
times before.

*****

THE VISITOR

Red Dog knew that something special was happening. 

That morning we had picked from along the road a large bouquet of 
frilly Queen-Anne's Lace and we had placed it in a blue vase on the 
picnic table. I wore clean clothes and I stood in the backyard, 
every half minute glancing up the road.

And so, just one day after her letter had come, the visitor herself 
came. Red Dog ran to welcome her.

However, the moment she stepped from her car, Red Dog awkwardly drew 
back. Never had he seen any person who looked like this.

Surrounded by fields of beans and corn, she wore a pink dress and 
pink  high-heels. Her fingernails were long and painted the color of 
grapes, and her lips were red like wet cherries. The air, which 
during those days smelled faintly of rose blossoms and crushed 
grass, now tingled with the odor of perfumed talc. Beneath the old 
birdbox, where thirty generations of Purple Martins had reared their 
young, she opened her arms to greet me. 

All that day Red Dog looked as if he were lost. I didn't take him on 
our usual morning walk. The visitor and I talked and kept him awake 
in the afternoon when usually he slept. I forgot to rub him between 
the ears and I forgot to reassure him that everything was alright.

When late that afternoon Red Dog understood that finally the visitor 
would go, he almost seemed to laugh. 

But when the visitor's car pulled away and Red Dog looked into my 
face, all the gladness in his eyes disappeared.

That night we sat silently in the swing beneath the maple trees 
thinking about everything that had happened that day.

*****

RIBBONS

A red leaf fell from the top branch of the old Blackgum tree. It 
landed at Red Dog's feet as we walked in the front yard. Red Dog 
looked at me as if to ask what it meant. I almost said, "It means 
that fall is coming, Red Dog" but, instead, I said:

"Red Dog, this summer, nature has worked hard growing corn and 
trees. Every day nature has been busy and serious, but now it's 
beginning to smile. When fall really comes, Red Dog, nature will act 
plum crazy. Red Dog, I believe that that leaf is just a nature-
giggle!"

I laughed to myself and Red Dog seemed to laugh, too.

"Red Dog," I continued, "maybe this summer we have been too 
serious."

Wondering what was on my mind, Red Dog lifted his eyebrows. I went 
into the house and quickly returned with two long ribbons -- a blue 
one and a red one -- and tied them around Red Dog's neck...

"Red Dog," I said, "let's run on the gravel road!"

Together we ran. Like carnival banners on a castle's tower, the long 
red and blue ribbons streamed from Red Dog's neck. I laughed and Red 
Dog barked, and the red and blue ribbons flew in the wind.

"Red Dog," I called, "not everything always has to make sense... !"


***  THE END  ***