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That's how quicksand works.
    "Now, it happened that the town needed to repave its roadways, and there was a crew working right where the quicksand was. And it happens that a homeless dog lived round about there in a dump, and he would lope up at lunch hour to see if any of the workers would share a piece of his lunch with a harmless and friendly old dog like himself.
    "Well, one of the workers was a low sort, never had a kind thought for man or beast, or for wife or child. He had a liverwish sandwich for lunch there. And he waved it at the dog, kind of luring him over. So then he pulled off a good-sized bite of liverwish sandwich and tossed it atop the quicksand, right in the center of the pit there.
    "Now, the dog had some idea about this quicksand, because that's how dogs are. They couldn't tell you what quicksand is, or analyze up the way of how it sucks you in. But they know enough to stay off it.
    "Still, that dog was hungry, because strays are always hungry. There's nobody putting out a bowl of dog food for them, so they're on the lookout for a chaw of something day and night. Never know when it'll turn out to be the last for a while, you see. And there's this thing about dogs that you have to know about, that they're always hoping to find a person they can trust. That's how they are, dogs. They need someone to believe in.
    "So the dog's looking at this guy with the sandwich, trying to figure out what a dog should know about him, and he's also looking at the hunk of liverwish sandwich sitting there on the quicksand. Meanwhile, the man's wheedling him, like, 'Go on, little doggie, scoop up that liverwish, now.' The dog thinks that is a pretty corny routine, but it's the usual thing that people do when they're cozying up to dogs. So the dog mistakes the man's motive. And even though he doesn't like the way this guy smells, the dog's judgment is getting overwhelmed by the liverwish.
    "So the dog's guard is down, and that is a big mistake. You never let your guard down except with people you know. But finally the dog can't figure it out any more. All he knows is, he had just better collect that piece of liverwish there. So he lets out one good loud bark and hops over to the food and goofs it down. Then he turns to the man and wags his tail and barks again.
    "By this time, the dog is already sinking. And he can see that something screwy is going on, and he starts to move out of there. But he can't. The more he struggles, the faster he's going down. And all the workers are standing there watching him. A few of them are thinking, Well, this is a serious and interesting thing, to watch a living creature die with the full knowledge that it is dying. But to most of them it's a joke. And not one of those guys moves to rescue the dog. They could easily lean over and pull it out with no risk to themselves. But no, no. They don't even try to. They stand there watching this thing that is happening. And there's the dog, fighting to keep his poor old head above the ooze, bravely pumping away but sinking all the same, probably wondering why nobody's helping him. At last he's all gone, and the men pack up their stuff and go back to work."
    When Frank was very young, his response to this story was "Did the dog come back later?"
    When Frank was a little older, his response was "Did that really happen?"
    And when Frank was a teenager, he asked his father, "How come you told me that story?"
    Frank's father had been waiting quite some time for that question. He said, "Because I wanted you to see what's missing from that story. What it doesn't have that it needs."
    "A smarter dog?"
    "Don't be a wise guy," said Frank's father, tousling Frank's hair.
    "I give up."
    "Don't give up. Think about it."
    Frank did. But at every try his father would say, "Good guess, but no," or "Keep trying, son."
    And Frank would reply, "Do you have to call me 'son'?"
    "What'll I call you, 'Uncle'?"
    "How about Frank?"
    Frank's father called Frank 'son' because simply