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it if you would turn it in to the proper authorities.”
    â€œYou bet.”
    â€œBecause if you don’t, if you steal another piece of my bacon, you little chiseler, your mother won’t recognize your face when I get finished with it.”
    â€œYeah, good old Mom. I wish she was here.”
    â€œIf she were here, Drover, it would be very crowded.”
    â€œOh, she didn’t take up much space. They always said Mom was so thin, you couldn’t see her if she turned sideways.”
    â€œHmmm. That’s very interesting.”
    â€œYeah. And Uncle Spot always said she was too skinny to cast a shadow.”
    â€œI’ll swan.”
    â€œThey said she had worms.”
    â€œNo kidding.”
    â€œAnd she didn’t take the time to eat right.”
    â€œUh-huh.”
    â€œToo busy raising pups.”
    â€œDrover, did you hear anything I said about the bacon?”
    â€œOh yeah, she loved bacon. I’d almost forgotten how much she loved bacon.”
    â€œDrover, are you there?”
    â€œGood old Mom. I wonder what she’s doing today.”
    Sometimes . . . oh well. I had more serious matters to think about than Drover’s mother, the poor woman. Just imagine the sleepless nights she’d spent, wondering what could have produced her feather-brained son.
    Yes, I had very serious matters to think about, such as the footsteps that by this time had reached the kitchen. I lay perfectly still and listened.
    The light switch clicked on.
    â€œHello?” said Loper. “Any ghosts around? Hon, nobody’s here. You must have heard the storm.”
    â€œCheck Alfred and make sure he’s all right.”
    â€œHon . . .”
    â€œPlease.”
    â€œOkay. Okay, I’ll check Alfred. I don’t have anything better to do at this hour of the . . .” His voice trailed off into silence. Then, “Hon, did you spill some water on the kitchen floor?”
    â€œNo, I didn’t.”
    â€œThat’s funny, I just stepped in a puddle.”
    Upon hearing this, I turned to Drover. “Did you hear that?”
    â€œWhat was it? Gosh, I hope it’s not one of those monsters.”
    â€œIt was Loper. He’s in the kitchen and he stepped in a puddle of water. And I think I know where it came from.”
    â€œYeah, all this rain and stuff.”
    â€œNot rain and stuff, Drover. You.”
    There was a moment of silence, and then I heard him sniffle. “Well, I was scared. I heard Sally May’s voice and I thought she was going to come into the kitchen and find us and chase us with a butcher knife, and it scared me so bad . . .”
    â€œOkay, okay. I knew you’d do something, I just didn’t know what.”
    â€œYeah, and I feel terrible about it.”
    â€œAnd don’t forget that you ate my bacon. Little Alfred brought that first piece just for ME and you stole it.”
    â€œOh, the guilt’s just piling up! I’m not sure I can live with myself.”
    â€œNever mind, Drover. We’ll take this up at another time—if we should happen to survive the night, that is.”
    â€œOh my leg!”
    â€œShhhhh.”
    Where were we? Oh yes, Loper was in the kitchen and had just discovered the Mysterious Puddle—which wasn’t so mysterious to those of us who knew Drover. And now he, Loper, that is, was making his way into Alfred’s room.
    If he turned on the light, we were sunk. I mean, two dogs under the covers in a little boy’s bed make humps, right? If he turned on the light, he would see the humps, jerk off the covers, and we would be exposed for all the world to see.
    The rest of what might follow was too scary to think about.
    We held our breath and waited. Would he turn on the light? No, he didn’t.
    Going strictly on the sounds picked up by my ears, here’s what I imagined that he did. He walked over to the bed and looked down. Alfred was asleep—or so it appeared.