The hill ended before the trees did. The steepness let go of our legs all of a gradual and we coasted on flat ground until the forest let go, too. We were standing on the edge of a lake half-hidden in mist.
Just as I stepped out of the trees, the sun peeked from between the clouds to see me. The air turned gold-grey and the mist sparkled in the shy light. The hill on the other side of the lake was covered in so many of the same tree that it looked like the whole hill might have grown from the same seed.
Mom didn’t just look up from the Witch, but actually hit the shut up button and put her in her pocket. “Okay, I hate the clouds, but even I have to admit this is spectacular.” She backed up to a log and sat down without taking her eyes off the shimmering scene.
“See, Mom,” I said around the mouthful of brunch she handed me. “It’s almost perfect. The only thing this peaceful moment is missing is...”
“...for me to know that Facebook can recover your page so I can stop thinking about it and be present,” Mom said quickly.
“Oh. That would be good, too. I was thinking it would spice things up if a wolf stopped by.”
Mom looked exasperated. “There is no wolf, Spud.”
“Sure there is. You’re just saying that because you didn’t see him.” I raised my chin the way a snob would. “Take my word for it. I smelled him for real, I swear. Here, give me another mouthful of kibble so he’ll be jealous.” I tried to chew it as loudly as I could. “Mmmmmm! Delicious clumps of meat dust.”
“I wish I could just let things go and be patient, but it’s like there’s a magnet in my mind when I’m annoyed. Like I can’t rest until I’ve proven someone wrong and restored order to the world. It takes a ton of effort to pull my mind off of something when it’s stuck, and the moment I stop pulling, it just sticks right back where it was before.”
“I know that feeling,” I said. “The same thing happens to my legs when my nose is on the trail of a chipmunk. Or a deer. Or a moose. Or a wolf.”
“There is no wolf.”
“There is too, a wolf!”
“Is not!”
“Is too!”
“Okay, whatever. Let’s keep moving. It’s worse when I sit still.” Mom stood up and patted her own butt. I was never sure if she did it to knock leaves and sand off her shorts or if she was telling herself to giddyup.
Mom tried to pretend like she wasn’t petting the Witch. She kept giving the screen secretive pokes and scratches when she thought I wasn’t looking. So when I was sure that Mom wasn’t looking, I went back to testing the stretchiness of my invisible leash. I went a few steps farther than ever before and looked back. Mom looked up, but she didn’t shout. Maybe the leash stretched farther now that the forest was flatter.
I went a few steps farther. Perhaps the telepaphone cord between us snapped, because Mom didn’t even look up from the Witch that time. I took a few more steps, looking over my shoulder the whole time, but Mom acted as if I were already gone, scowling at the Witch and making disgusted noises like she didn’t care who heard her.
I didn’t mean to leave Mom behind, but when I went around the next bend, the smell of critter caught in my nose and pulled me off the trail.
I must have already followed it behind a bush or rock or something by the time Mom came by. Or maybe she just never looked up as she came around the bend. The next time I heard her, she was bellowing my name from farther down the trail.
I was about to turn around, when a rustling in the brush led me deeper into the forest. Mom would be fine under the Witch’s supervision until I was done. Anyway, It’s not like I could lose her. Every creature in the forest knew where she was by the racket. Serves her right! My wolf was probably leading me deeper into the forest just to get away from the noise.
Mom’s hollering was getting quiet enough that I almost turned around so she wouldn’t get too far away, but right before I did, Mom’s voice changed and started getting louder again. Since she was coming back toward me anyway, I finished sniffing a fresh pee spot before making my way back.
Then there was a squirrel. I chased it up a tree and waited for it to come down to chase me back. “No fair! We’re playing tag, not hide and seek!” I whined assertively. I listened for the rustle of a charging squirrel, but all I heard was Mom’s squawking fading into the trees. I should probably go back.
But then Mom turned again, so I turned back to exploring. This squirrel sure did pee a lot. The whole trunk smelled like an exotic, spicy pee that I hardly recognized. Was it even squirrel?
As I sniffed, Mom’s voice went from the dragon voice, to a wobbly cry, to phony cheerful, back to whining, and finally begging.
I sniffed the air for more clues of what had peed on the squirrel’s tree, but the path had gone cold. With a sigh, I turned back to see what Mom was going on about.
As I got closer, I made out another sound under Mom’s honking. A rustling, rattling sound. Was it...?
I would know the sound of Mom shaking a baggie full of kibble anywhere!
Mom was pacing up and down the trail, stopping every few steps to bellow into the trees, then cocking her head like a bird to listen to the silence her shrieks left behind. At long last, the Witch was in her pocket and her ears were free from the kibble-shaped nuggets the Witch used to whisper lies that only she could hear.
I exploded out of the bushes, bursting with the news. “Mom! I almost got him this time!” I gushed breathlessly. “Since you’re not staring at the Witch anymore, do you want me to show you?”
“Oh my dog, Oscar! Don’t ever do that to me again! Where the smell were you?”
“I’m trying to show y—mmmf...” She cut me off by shoving a fistful of kibble into my mouth.
“I thought you’d gotten into a fight with something and you were lying bleeding out there in the forest somewhere.”
“I almost caught him,” I humble-bragged, “but he got a head start. Because you’re so slow. Like the villagers who took the shepherd boy for granted. Which is why he needed to teach them a lesson.”
“You were right about the boy who cried wolf!” Mom nearly-sobbed through the kisses. She must've been very upset; I’d never heard her admit she was wrong before. “You said there was a wolf and I didn’t believe you. Just like the villagers didn’t believe the boy. But there really was a wolf at the end. And that’s how the wolf got him.”
“It’s not a story about falling for pranks, Mom. The moral of the story is supposed to be about paying attention to the cutest, loudest member of your tribe.”
“You’re missing the point.” Mom’s eyes rolled as the story rewound in her head. “The first time, the wolf barely comes out of the trees before the boy starts shouting,” she retold. “It gets everyone’s attention and a whole crowd shows up. So of course the wolf went back into the trees.”
“Of course,” I said, glad Mom finally got why I had to leave her and her big mouth behind.
"And the third time, when no one responds to the boy’s shouts, the wolf had a menu to choose from. Why eat a mutton when he can eat the creature making that annoying racket?”
“Some rackets are charming,” I said, thinking of the rackets I made when there was a ghost in the house or a mailman at the door. “You can’t trust the word of a bunch of dumb villagers who make a boy guard their dinner from a wolf they think doesn’t exist.”
“But the wolf did exist,” Mom said. “Because the boy was somebody’s dinner.”
“Wait, you don’t think that the boy actually died at the end, do you?” I asked.
“Yeah. That's the whole point of the story. There’s a wolf, but the boy keeps scaring him away with his shouts.”
That checked out. My wolf had run deeper into the forest when Mom started making such a ruckus.
“The point is that there are worse things to lose than a Facebook page. I almost lost you in real life. Please don’t make me think you’re dead so you can spy on all the compliments people say at your funeral. I can handle anything, just as long as I have you!” She gave a kiss so long that I thought her face would stay stuck to my forehead forever.
“Good girl! So you have learned the lesson of the boy who cried wolf,” I wagged when she finally set my face free.
“Yes! That I should pay attention to what’s real, not the imaginary problems in my head. And when someone tells me that there’s danger out of sight, I should take precautious and investigate rather than assuming it doesn’t exist.” Since she was already crouching, she used her hand as a bowl to serve me another fistful of kibble and patted me gently behind the ears while I ate it. “Especially when people I trust warn me that I’m walking around with my head up my ass.”
“That’s almost right,” I said. “But you forgot the part about not stressing your companion out by telling him the world is full of monsters, then walking around the forest screaming at nothing just to creep him out.”
“Can we at least agree to never fake our own deaths again? Whether imaginary or in real life?”
“Okay!” I agreed. Mom had already piddled in the punch bowl anyway. “ Where should we not-fake-our-deaths next?”
“I can’t take this Pacific Northwest weather anymore. It makes me too jumpy,” Mom said. “Let’s try going farther east.”
“If something is farther east, you call it Easter, Mom.” I loved Easter. That’s the one where you get to chase bunnies and search for treats all around the house. The best part is that no one gets mad at you for eating stuff you find under the couch.
“Not Easter. Just east. I’m not sure what’s in Washington besides Seattle. It’ll be an adventure."
If there was ever a dog made for adventure, he was me. We walked back past the lake and down the hill. This time I stayed with Mom and walked right past the places where I’d left her for the wolf before. Almost hanging out with him had been fun, but I bet he didn’t know how to open a cheese stick or kiss the spot between my eyes in a way that made me feel warm and safe all over.
When we got back to the horse cages, Mom made herself a cup of tea and sat at a picnic table dipping carrots in hummus. I sat under the table, testing if I could make horses appear just by wanting them enough.
I’m pretty sure I was only one wish from a pony when suddenly Mom’s legs twitched and she made an urgent Mmf that broke my concentration.
“What?” I asked, sticking my head between the bench and table to get a better look at her face.
“It’s Wilbur! They managed to recover your Facebook page,” she said, spraying wads of carrot as she talked. “It’s all here! But... Oh shoot. Remember that funny poem you wrote about pooping in the neighbor’s yard?”
“That was some of my best work,” I agreed. “It’ll win the Poolitzer Prize someday.”
“Well it’s gone. It must have been on the other page.” She bunched the carrots in one side of her mouth so she could give the Witch an I’m-not-mad-I’m-disappointed look. “Oh well. As long as the poet lives, he can write more poems.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I haven’t pooped in the neighbor’s yard for the last time. Promise.”
“I guess the memories never go away,” Mom shrugged.
“That’s a good one. You should post it on Facebook and tell them that I said it.”
"And maybe someday, far, far in the future, we’ll retell this story from those memories and share it with a whole bunch of new people who haven’t even met you yet.” Mom snapped a carrot with her teeth like Bugs Bunny after saying something especially bugsy.
“They’re in for a treat,” I said. “Speaking of which... You got any cheese sticks mixed in with those carrot sticks up there?”