You know, there are some days you deal with crazy people. On these days, can I advise you to keep your temper inside between your ears where it belongs? Do a lot of counting. Then count again.
It is best, on these days, to make sure to try out a new path when you finally head into the forest. If a dog goes so weirdo, swimstick crazy at the swimming hole that she starts spontaneous projectile barfing, you remove the swimstick and set off down yet a different path. Away from the creek and to the grove that once held the biggest trees.
You know what someone did there, a long time ago? Chopped them down. For houses, barns, and decks. With long, toothy saws. Not sure how they drug 'em out. Horses, I guess. Maybe laid train tracks in a danger mouse pattern up the ravine. Tied big, rusty chains around their girth and yanked on them until they were out.
Now I just stay the dogs up there on those stumps. Some of the stumps are massive and I have to shove everyone up there like I'm stacking up marshmallow birds on a ledge. This is where we stop thinking about things like swimsticks and crazy people. This is where we stay for a pretty long time and hope no one else comes by until we're done. To get out of here, I have to climb up a tiny path by pulling on dusty tree roots. The dogs just run, they have extra legs.
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