When I turned around, Mom was scowling at her hand like the Witch was telling her that traffic was getting worse. Except that we weren’t driving, the Witch was still in her pocket and Mom’s paw was empty.
“Got him!” she wiped her hand triumphantly against her butt.
“I think maybe they got away,” I said. “Didn’t you see? They went thaddaway.” I cocked my ears in the direction where the buzz was shrinking into the distance. “You can still hear them. Listen.”
The air was vibrating with buzzes, but now that I listened closer, it didn’t sound like the vroom vroom of go carts. The buzzing now sounded more like nyeeeee. It throbbed in a way that made my ears twitch.
SMACK!
Mom slapped her own thigh and checked her paw. This time, the invisible witch made Mom's face do disappointed. She looked up like someone was calling her name and her eyes darted wildly, pointing at the empty air right above her head. Quick as a flash, she clapped both paws together right in front of her nose. The little wisps of fur around her face fluttered from the blast.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Mos—” SLAP! “Mosquitoes! Nasty suckers!” Mom’s crazed eyes checked the air in front of her face for more invisible monsters before turning to set up the kitchen for dinner.
"A real, live moose? So soon?” I could hardly believe my luck!
But how had this moose snuck up on us without my noticing? He must be invisible. I hoped I’d get to actually see a regular, visible moose before we left Idaho.
“Not a moose. A mosquito.” Mom clawed at the air like she was trying to catch the moose by the horn before he ran away.
“Hello, Skeeter. My name is Oscar,” I said to the air above Mom’s head where he must have been standing.
“They’re way worse than moose, because they bite,” Mom snarled, too distracted by trying to find the invisible moose to notice how helpful I was.
“You’re just making things up to try to scare me again,” I said. I bet Lois and Clark never treated Suckergawea this way when she tried to introduce them to their first invisible moose.
“Tell that to the three-quarters of a million people killed by their bites each year.” Mom slapped her forehead and scowled like someone else had grabbed her wrist and made her do it. “You just haven’t seen them before because there isn’t enough fresh water in California for them to lay their eggs. I forgot how unbearable they are. How do people live like this?”
So meese laid eggs, just like geese do. I stored that fun fact away in my head so I could impress Mom with it someday.
Without warning, a dot appeared out of thin air and set my eye on fire. I’d already blinked it away before I realized that it didn’t hurt, it just itched. I turned to see where the dot had gone and heard it buzzing in my ear. I bit the air beside my shoulder, but now it was on the other side. By the time I chomped the place where it had been, it was already by my tail.
“Quick! Get in the van!” Mom slammed the kitchen door shut and ran to slide the bedside door open. “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! So I can close it.”
“But what about—”
“Get inside!” she ordered, swiping her arm in a quick right this way sign before going back to smacking the invisible moose.
I did as I was told and mounted the bedroom. Mom dove in behind me, slamming the door as she did.
“What about dinner?” I asked when it was quiet.
But not too quiet.
Nyeeeee went the air above my head.
“Slammit!” Mom clapped the air in front of her face and checked both paws for moose tracks.
“How did that pesky moose get in here with us?” I asked.
“Little ffff... suckers! They’re everywhere!” Mom dove after a part of the moose on the other side of the Wagon and landed in a belly flop, slapping sound and all. It took me a second to realize the slap came from her hands, not her belly.
My belly was grumbling. “What do meese eat?” I asked, hoping it was seaweed snacks or chili, not kibble with shredded cheese sprinkled on top.
“Blood!” Mom smacked the window like she was playing a scene from Titanic.
I was starting to think she was messing with me.
Mom stopped long enough to pour a bowlful of kibble and sprinkle cheese on top. While I ate, she went back to wrestling with the invisible moose.
Every once in a while, I looked up to see what she’d smacked this time.
THUD! (the ceiling)
THWACK! (the back of the driving chair)
THUD! (ceiling again)
CRACK! (her own shoulder)
CLAP! (right next to my ear)
By the time I’d finished my dinner, Mom was finishing off the moose. She settled into bed beside me and we lay together looking at the ceiling. As my eyes got used to the dimming light at the edges of where the lantern reached, dots started to appear on the ceiling—little splatters with thread-like beams sticking out like sparkles.
“Look, Mom. I can see the stars,” I said.
“Those aren’t stars,” Mom yawned. “They’re all the bugs I smooshed while you were having dinner."
I woke up to birds singing. The sky had that softness it gets on mountainy mornings, when the sun needs to climb higher to see me. The moose tracks were still splattered on the ceiling like hunting trophies from Mom’s massacre the night before.
“Snork!” Mom snored. She head-butted the pillow and went back to sleep.
I put my head between my paws and stared at her with the wide-eyed attention that Mom only gives the Witch. There’s no better alarm clock in the world.
Mom’s breath got quieter as the magic started to work. She became so quiet that I could tell she was faking it. I sighed loudly and thought I saw her eyes flutter in the breeze.
I nudged her hand with my nose, trying to flip it on top of my head so she’d start petting me. “Hey! You promised we wouldn’t fake our deaths anymore,” I reminded her.
Mom groaned and dug a fist into her eye.
“It’s my first day in the Potato Kingdom. Do you think there’ll be a parade?” I wagged, running to the window to show Mom where the excitement was. “My loyal subjects will be wondering where their beloved potato beast has gone. What should we do first? And is it potato picking?”
“Potato picking isn’t a real thing,” Mom grumbled. She sat up and tried to rake the hay-like fur on top of her head into a less scarecrow-ish style. “It was just a joke.”
“One girl’s joke is another dog’s business pupportunity,” I said.
“It’s too early for one of your business pitches,” Mom said, rolling out of bed sooner than usual.
“What do you think of this slogan: Unearth buried pleasure!” I said as I followed her to the potty tree. “Or maybe, Dig in, to the ultimate adventure!”
“I promise you, no one is gonna spend their vacation digging up potatoes in Idaho.” She signaled for me to get back inside and closed the door behind me so I wouldn’t follow her around while she made her poop juice.
“What do you think of, Pick a peck of happiness?” I barked through the glass.
But the moment she opened the kitchen door, the whole Wagon became a stage. “Imagine a world...” I began.
“Oh brother.” Mom felt her pockets for something to put in her ears. But the kibbles the Witch used to sing to her were out of reach, charging in the cockpit.
“IMAGINE A WORLD...” I repeated a little louder, “...where digging in the dirt becomes a treasured lifelong memory. Fun for the whole family from tater tots to...”
“I said we’re not going potato picking!” Mom said, also louder. “Look around! Does this look like farmland to you? We’re in the mountains.” She slammed the kitchen door and brought her steaming cup of poop juice back to the bedroom. She tucked it between the mattress and the wall so it wouldn’t tip over while she was getting dressed. “I didn’t even know there were mountains in Idaho, but look!” She put the Witch in front of my nose as if she wanted me to smell something, but all I smelled was the inside of her pocket. “We’re gonna see this instead!”
On the screen was one of those pictures like they put on calendars or in frames on hotel walls. Pointy black-and-white mountains covered the top half of the Witch’s face. On the bottom half, the same mountains hung upside-down in a lake surrounded by wildflowers.
“Who’s gonna wanna dig there?” I muttered, unimpressed. “It’s all wet.”
Mom pulled out a pair of running shorts and kicked her legs in the air like a deranged aerobics instructor as she worked them up her legs. “There’ll be time for touristy potato stuff later. What do you think all that white stuff is on the mountain in the picture?”
I hadn’t thought about what stock photos were made of before. I figured they were made of the same stuff as nature... People called cows stock sometimes, so a stock photo must be full of...
“Cows!” I guessed. “The mountains are made of cows. Or... wait! Are they giant wedges of cheese. No! I’ve got it! Mashed potatoes! Final answer.”
“It’s snow,” Mom said, like I was supposed to just know that. She zipped up the packpack and reached for her ear kibbles on the driving chair. “Maybe there’ll still be some beside the trail when we get there.”
I was already a few steps uphill before it occurred to me to look back to make sure Mom was following. She was still sitting in the doorway of the Wagon tying her shoes like we had all the time in the world and not much to do with it. “What are you waiting for?” I whined assertively.
“We’re still like 10 miles from the trailhead, remember? We’ve gotta drive.”
I got into the Wagon like she asked, but it felt like a trick. Especially when the Wagon started moving as slow as if it were being pulled by cows. Mom’s head bobbled on her shoulders as the wheels crackled and sloshed through the gravel, puddles, and mud. I lay with my back legs spread like a frog for balance.