Read Online The Bog by Michael Talbot - Free Book Online Page B

his bed. As he did so David noticed that he too seemed unusually distracted. Even after he had finished and David was pulling the covers up around him, Tuck continued to stare off into space, absentmindedly doing the itsy-bitsy-spider routine with his fingers, a gesture that always meant something was weighing heavily on his mind. “Tuck, is anything the matter?”
    “Dad, do I have moxie?”
    David smiled, remembering that Tuck had been present when he had used the word earlier that day. “Not quite yet, Tuck,” he said. “But I’m sure you will someday.”
    “What is moxie?”
    “It’s courage. But not just any type of courage. It’s like being brave enough to face anything. It has to grow in a person.”
    Satisfied for the moment, all the tension left Tuck’s face and he suddenly looked very sleepy.
    “Good night, Tuck,” David said, kissing him on the forehead.
    “Good night, Dad.”
    “I love you.”
    “I love you too.”
    When he finally retired to his own bedroom he found Melanie sitting up in bed and looking very disturbed about something. He sighed. It just wasn’t his evening.
    “You’re not thinking of changing your name, or asking me if you have moxie, are you?” he asked.
    She looked at him, perplexed. “What?”
    “Oh, it’s nothing. You just look concerned about something.”
    “It’s Ben,” she said. “Listen to him.”
    David paused and realized he could still hear Ben whining about something downstairs.
    “What do you think it is?” Melanie asked.
    “Just the newness of the place. The new smells.”
    “But he seems so troubled about something.”
    “Honey,” David soothed, “we’re out in the country now. I don’t mean to frighten you, but there are lots of little animals around, harmless animals, but lots of little animals nonetheless. Ben’s just not used to their sounds and smells yet.”
    “What kind of little animals?” she asked uneasily. “Oh, I don’t know... rabbits, foxes.”
    “Will the foxes bite Ben?”
    “I doubt it. I suspect they’re far more frightened of Ben than he is of them. They’ll keep their distance. They do, you know. Things like that can smell a dog.”
    David decided that perhaps the best thing to do was shut Ben outside for the night. At least that way Ben would start to get more of a feel for the place, run around and urinate on trees and stuff, and do all those things that a dog does to feel more comfortable about its territory. He went downstairs and put Ben out, but was chagrined when Ben’s whining did not subside but turned into barking. He continued to howl mournfully, woefully, all night long.
    The next morning when David entered the kitchen he was greeted by the smell of bacon frying. Melanie stood at the stove, cracking eggs into a second skillet, Katy sat at the table with a bowl half full of soggy cereal in front of her and reading a book, and Tuck was crouching on his haunches in front of Ben who was reclining in a corner.
    “Good morning, everybody,” David greeted. “Morning,” Melanie and Katy intoned together. Tuck looked up at his father’s approach.
    “Daddy, something’s wrong with Ben.”
    Melanie turned around with an expression halfway between mystification and I told you so. “He won’t eat,” she explained.
    David went over and crouched down beside his son and looked into Ben’s eyes. The retriever stared back at him wearily. In front of him was a bowl of his favorite food, untouched.
    “Maybe he’s just not hungry,” David said.
    “Oh, come on,” Melanie challenged. “You know him. He’s normally famished.”
    “I’ll bet he’ll eat this,” David said, standing and taking one of the pieces of bacon that was draining on a paper towel next to the sink and then crouching down again and wafting it in front of Ben’s nose. Ben sniffed it once and then looked up at him sadly, emitting an exhausted and frustrated whine.
    Tuck looked at his father worriedly.
    “I’m sure it’s nothing. He’s