Campfire Fun (From Thereby Hangs A Tail)
The hippie in the vest was called Disco; the other one was Crash. Crash produced some Slim Jims, tore one into little bits for Princess, tossed me a whole one, and soon another, and another, and maybe another after that. Night fell. Crash and Disco tried to build a fire but it went out. We all sat around where the fire would have been. Crash and Disco downed some beers, got going on another joint, a big fat one. The smoke drifted over to me and Princess in heavy clouds. Always enjoyed that smell. Princess stretched, lay down beside me, closed her eyes. I gazed at the stars and all sorts of thoughts went tumbling through my mind, way too fast to keep up, so I didn’t even try. Except for missing Bernie, I felt pretty good. Soon I was just thinking about Bernie: his smell, how far he could throw the tennis ball when we played fetch, the slight limp from his wound when he got tired.
Later Crash switched on some music. They sang along, something about In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, Baby. Nothing like Roy Eldridge and his trumpet, but not too bad. I sang along, too, doing my woo-woo kind of thing. Crash and Disco loved that, did some woo-wooing of their own.
“Maybe he’s jonesin’ for another Slim Jim,” said Crash.
“Only one left,” said Disco, “and I got the munchies.”
So I didn’t get a Slim Jim, which I suddenly wanted very badly. Maybe I had the munchies, too, whatever they were. But Crash and Disco were good guys, and they liked me. As my eyes closed and I sank into a lovely fuzziness, I heard them talking about how big and strong I was, and how much I might be worth.
Notes from Admin: Lots of stories out there about dogs and people falling through ice. Careful! Also Jill Abramson at the New York Times has a nice blog going about puppies.
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