Buy the book Growing Up Itchy

Grey sat on the ground on the hillside behind the little mountain house. He was working hard, oblivious to his surroundings. The rubber treads on the yellow tin bulldozer turned as he labored over a roadbed cut into the side of a mound of clean, black topsoil. The mountain dirt, after he scraped away years of dead grass and vegetation, was deep black, almost ink-like. It was a great deal different from the pale, rocky dust Grey knew from back when he was little, in the desert. It could grow anything, and it did. He was surrounded by very high grass.

The Tonka bulldozer blade hung up on a root. Grey grunted, and pushing harder still, forced the root to break. Progress must be made – the road must be completed! Ash helped. He could operate a grader with great skill, and was good at moving dirt when small roads needed to be built.

A distant shot rang out in the air, and the boys paused.

“Was that Dad?” Ash said.

Construction project forgotten, Grey stood to his feet, dirt and bits of grass raining down onto the little road. Echoes from the gunshot bounced back and forth between the distant peaks, dying a slow death in the high mountain air. He brushed the dirt from his jeans. The silence overwhelmed them.

“What’s he doing?” Grey whispered. “Think he’s hunting rabbits?”

Ash stood up. “Let’s go find out.” They were both getting tired of playing in the dirt. He took off in a trot, heading in the direction of the shot. Grey hurried to catch up.

They knew Dad had left earlier, to go on a walk. He had taken Mom’s Winchester with him, and the boys wondered where he was going. Maybe to visit a neighbor. They hoped he’d bring something home to eat, like a rabbit or a grouse.

Half a mile passed under their hard feet before they saw Dad hiking up out of a bush-choked ravine from the southeast.

“Let’s wait here,” Grey said.

They stopped, and Grey sat down on a slab of bedrock. It was better to rest while Dad came to them. It would take them awhile to run down to where he was, and they’d just have to turn around and trudge all the way back up the hill again. So they waited, enjoying the cool breeze drifting up the slope.

Dad waved, and said something but the wind was in the boys’ ears. They waved back and watched him hike up the slope, gun over his shoulder.

***

Bo and Kip were Huskies. They were well-loved by the boys and their new baby sister, Bethany. Husky dogs were fuzzy, lovable, and most importantly, able to keep up with the boys during their wide-ranging hikes across the mountain.

On weekends, after their chores were complete, Grey and Ash played outside. The house was small and boring, so the dogs were their ever-present outdoor companions.

City people might call their play “hiking,” but the boys thought of it more like “exploring.” They had no knowledge of telescopic walking staffs, name-brand wool socks or expensive hiking boots. They roamed far and wide, for the entire mountain was their playground.

Mom would sometimes look out of the rippling plastic sheet windows of the little house, and wonder. How were they doing out there? Truth be told, she didn’t actually worry too much about them – she knew they were quite comfortable in their environment, but still. If she let her mind wander, her imagination could conjure up fatal accidents. Any danger from wildlife was pretty minimal, the dogs would keep all animals from coming too close. Probably the biggest risk to them was falling off of some high thing. They were always climbing trees and boulders; they had plenty of tales to tell of their vertical exploits when they sat down to dinner. Keeping them in the house all day was not practical, so Mom had little choice but to let them seek their own adventures.

The dogs were good company to the boys. The huskies could be found tagging along where the boys went, smelling the tiny smells and tuning in to the little sounds that only their sensitive ears could hear.

Kip was the lesser companion, never sticking very close to the boys on their trails. She roamed farther and with less care for her masters. She had a wild spirit and seemed to consider the whole world her home. She disappeared a few months later. They never knew what happened to her.

She was missed, but they still had Bo. He was brown-and-white with big sparkling eyes, and a tail that curled up in a half circle behind him. Bo grew like a mountain weed and could easily out range the boys if he wanted to. He loved to run – speed and endurance were his heritage. Wind and fast-moving terrain coursed through his blood. He was pretty loyal though, and wouldn’t wander as far as Kip had done.

On weekdays when they drove down the mountain to school, Bo began to follow them.

“Bo, go home!” Grey yelled.

Bo could see the boys, just ahead there in the back of the truck, and wanted to roam – to follow where they went. No matter how much his masters urged him to stay home, Bo tagged along, easily keeping up as Mom drove carefully down the winding road. He trotted behind the truck, tongue hanging out happily, stopping to sniff the occasional gopher hole.

“No no! Go home!” Ash hollered. “Go back to the house!”

It was no use. Dogs weren’t very skilled at understanding human speech, and Grey was sure Bo just wanted to be with them – to play and run. He played with them all the time, and he couldn’t be blamed for wanting to be with them now.

“He’s going to get lost!” Ash said.

“He might get in trouble, or not ever want to come back home!” Grey said. He didn’t know if Bo could get lost. Probably not.

Bo eventually turned off the road, and Grey sighed with relief. He did not want Bo to get in trouble. They continued on to school, eight miles of empty road winding away behind them.

Bo followed them the next day, and the next. As he grew, his legs got longer and stronger. There seemed to be no limit to the distance he could run!

“He could pull a sled from here to Alaska,” Dad noted one evening. “He’s quite a runner, but he’s not supposed to leave the property. What good is a dog who’s not standing guard at home?”

“How can we get him to stay home?”

“Maybe you should try to stay on the property while he’s with you.”

That weekend, Grey and Ash planned to stick around the house. They didn’t explore as far. Forty acres was plenty of playing space, after all.

“Let’s work on our road some more.” Ash suggested.

Bo followed them up the hill to their dirt patch. His eyes sparkled, as if to tell them how much he wanted to go exploring. Ash patted his soft brown head.

“We’re going to dig today, Bo.”

A mole, or maybe a gopher had dug up part of their dirt pile, leaving a soft mound of dirt over top of what used to be a pretty nicely-graded roadbed.

“Bo, look at this!” Grey told him, pointing.

Bo obliged, and sniffed at the dirt pile. The boys would love to see him dig up some animal that lived underground, but no amount of encouragement could interest Bo in this prospect.

“It’s no use. The scent is gone cold.” Grey said flatly. “He doesn’t smell anything.”

Ash took hold of the old ‘dozer and plowed over the molehill. Grey absently patted Bo, before starting work on grading the lower road. He had some ideas for it.

“I’m going to split it off here, and maybe we can make a house.”

Ash nodded. A house would be neat.

Bo sat down, bored. It was much too early to rest, and he fidgeted, sniffing the wind.

The brothers never noticed when, only ten minutes later, Bo trotted off to look for something more exciting to do.

The shadows began to grow long as the sun fell, and Grey was thirsty. He stood and surveyed the diggings. They had quite a road system now, complete with winding switchbacks.

“Maybe it’s getting close to dinner,” he said.

“I’m hungry too.”

Grey looked around. “Where’s Bo? I thought he’d stay with us this time.”

Ash shrugged. “Maybe he’s at the house.”

It was wishful thinking. Bo wasn’t at the house when they got back, but thankfully he did show up after dinner. Dad heard him eating outside, rattling the dog bowl. They went out to pet him.

“Bo, you have to stay home tomorrow!” Ash chided.

Bo did not stay home the next day. He followed the truck halfway to church before turning off to explore the woods. Dad watched him in the rear-view mirror.

“We can’t keep having this,” Dad said, talking loud over the whine of the truck. He was getting angry.

“Dad repeated himself that night, at dinner. “We can’t have this, Bo’s going to get in real trouble!”

The day soon came when Bo did what they hoped he would never do. He followed them to the Canadian border, and ran across it, wagging his tail as they stopped at the gate. He thought they were stopping for him. Grey and Ash shrunk down in the truck bed as the Canadian border guard spoke stern words to Mom.

Bo was invading Canada, and the Canadians weren’t too happy about it.

There was nothing Mom could do; so she apologized and continued across the border to drop the boys off at school.

“Here, Bo!” Mom coaxed.

Grey stood in the doorway for a moment, watching. Mom sounded so friendly, so kind, but Grey knew she was mad.

Bo fell for it, completely taken by the ruse.

She lunged and caught Bo by the collar. She heaved him up into the cab of the truck, and rattled off towards the American side. Bo had never ridden in a truck before, and it terrified him. He would have jumped out had she put him into the back.

Grey stared at his books all that day, thinking about Bo. He was being a real bad dog lately, and Grey was afraid they’d have to get rid of him. He wondered where Bo was now. Would he stay home with Mom, or would he run away again?

Oh no! As soon as he had that thought, Grey was sure that Bo would run back down into Canada, now that he knew where the school was. Grey knew the dog well – he would surely try to find the boys again.

Grey turned his head slightly, trying to see behind him. No teachers in sight. He stood up carefully from his chair; quiet and slow. He glanced around the room. The coast was clear. He craned his head up, trying to see out the basement window, but it was no use. He saw nothing but bushes.

Bo was not outside when the bell rang, thankfully. Grey and Ash waited on the curb for Mom. She was late.

The last student had left when Mom finally showed up.

“What happened?” Grey asked immediately.

Mom apologized for being late. “Before I left, I tried to catch Bo; but he’s too smart. He knew I was about to come down to pick you boys up, so he was already gone. He ran off. I called him for awhile, but he never came, so I started down the mountain.”

Ash climbed up into the truck, and Grey followed, slamming the steel door behind him.

Mom continued. “Of course he appeared behind the truck when I was halfway here, so I stopped and tried to catch him, but he wouldn’t fall for that twice in one day. He wouldn’t come near me. I think he’s afraid of riding in the truck again.”

She paused, and looked around at the passing landscape.

“I never did see him after that.”

That evening, Mom told Dad the story, and Dad’s look was grim.

“We have to tie him up.”

When Bo returned to the house after dinner, Dad caught him and tied him with one of the sheep’s old ropes.

“That probably won’t hold him for long,” Dad said. “He needs a proper dog chain.”

Sure enough, Bo chewed through the rope that night, and was gone the next morning before they could catch him.

“It’s like he knows we’re about to leave,” Mom said.

That morning, Bo showed up behind the truck again; when they had gone about halfway down the mountain. Mom stopped the truck, but neither she or the boys could get him to come close. Bo wagged his trail, frisking just out of reach. Perhaps he thought it was a game, but he was pretty smart. Maybe he didn’t want to be caught.

The border guards had stern words for Mom again, and Dad was steaming that evening.

“A tied up dog is no dog at all,” Dad said. “I don’t want a pointless eater of food, but he needs to stay here to guard the house.”

When night fell, Dad was ready. He bought a dog chain on his way home from work, and snapped it on Bo while he slept.

The next morning, Bo moped about in a sad, clanking circle. His freedom was gone. The chain was not chew-able.

Grey and Ash sat with Bo for a bit before school, petting him. His ears drooped and his eyes looked at them with true misery as only a dog can express. They knew he wanted to be free. It was a sorry sight, but it couldn’t be helped.

Grey learned later that all day while they were at school, Bo whined and cried, making endless pitiful sounds that drove Mom crazy. When they returned home, Bo leaped excitedly into the air, strangling as his chain jerked him back to earth with a rattle. Grey and Ash sat with him before dinner, wishing they could make him understand that he should stay home and stop running around so much. It was hard watching him choke himself on the chain, but eventually they had to go inside.

“He’ll learn,” Dad said as they were heading to bed. “He’s pretty smart, after all.”

The awful chain forced Bo to behave for a whole month, then one Saturday Dad finally decided to let him loose again. Maybe Bo learned his lesson; being such a smart dog.

Dad told the boys of his plans over breakfast.

“We’ve got nowhere to go today, so let’s see how he does. You boys should play and run around with him, but stay on the property.”

Gray and Ash were overjoyed. They patted Bo soothingly, his flanks trembling as Dad un-clipped the chain with a tiny snap.

In less time than it would take Grey to blink his eyes, Bo was running full-out – a white-and-brown streak flying above the mountain grasses. He was running like never before, he had a whole month worth of running to catch up with. He clearly intended to put many miles under his feet that evening.

Dad stood and frowned, watching him disappear into the wilderness.

Grey and Ash stood quietly, looki<h1 class=”western”>10:What’s Eating the Sheep?</h1>ng up at Dad. This was not good.

Bo did not come home at all that night, and worry made Grey’s dinner tasteless and bland. Mom worried too, and Dad looked grim. The next day came, and still there was still no sign of Bo.

Three whole days passed, and a neighbor came walking up their driveway. Dad went out to speak with him. The boys followed, listening. They learned that Bo was running all over the countryside, causing trouble; trespassing, scaring livestock, and bothering people.

“The next time you boys see Bo, try to grab him,” Dad said. But Bo did not come home that night either.

More days passed, and Dad heard more reports of Bo, until one day he said a neighbor had caught him, trapped in a pen.

***

Grey and Ash rested on the boulder, watching Dad trudge up the hill towards them. Mom’s 30-30 leaned across his shoulder, its black iron barrel gleaming in the dimming afternoon light. Grey and Ash looked at each other after a moment. It suddenly dawned on them – Dad was not out hunting rabbits.

“I think Dad shot Bo,” Asher said.

The boys knew that he would never run again. Maybe he wasn’t so smart after all.