
Epidog
“Oh dog doo,” Mom said slowly, like speaking at a normal pace might cause something to go terribly wrong.
Dog Blog (dot woof)
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“Oh dog doo,” Mom said slowly, like speaking at a normal pace might cause something to go terribly wrong.

“See?” Mom shifted the Wagon triumphantly into recovery mode. “The trick to not getting stuck is to just keep moving.”

Something about that didn’t add up for me. How would we get out without calling for help if we needed it? But since dogs can’t add, I did the reaction Mom’s face told me to do.

I ran through the crowd, pushing other dogs out of the way and introducing myself to their people as Mom trudged around the outside of the group where she wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. A frisbee flew overhead and sand smeared under my paws as I tried to knock it out of the air before anyone else could catch it.

“I bet that’s why everyone is so peevish lately,” I decided. “What does progress do when there’s a mountain in the way?”

So that’s what orange meant! It was one of those human words I heard all the time but never understood. I sniffed a big noseful of the foul, revolting, monstrous air and thought about orange so I would remember for the next time.

“Wait here.” She held up her hand in the stay sign. She kept her hand up as she disappeared beneath it. Finally, Mom pulled the hand out of sight so she could use it to hang onto the next rock.

“Down where?” I peeked over my shoulder. From above, the slope looked a lot more like a cliff. It seemed impossible that we’d climbed so high moving so slowly. “I’ll go wherever you go. Please don’t leave me here alone.”

“Where’s everybody going?” I asked. “They’re all leaving because of the smoke, I guess.” Mom’s shoulders twitched, shrugging off a thought like it was a fly in her ear.

“What do you suppose this frisbee is doing here?” I sniffed. I’m not really a fetch kind of guy, but picking up a frisbee is a great way to start a game of tag, so I tested its texture with my teeth.