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couldn’t make out what it was. He wondered what kinds of animals lived out here that he might not know about. How big were badgers and what did they look like? What about coyotes?
    Closer now, he could see that the animal was about the same size as a dog, not a big dog, but not a small one, either. Medium-sized. Its fur was mottled, and its head appeared dark, but there was something really, really odd-looking about it.
    The creature whimpered in earnest then and lifted its head, and the picture became clear. It was a dog. And sticking out from its muzzle were about a hundred of what he immediately knew must be porcupine quills. Whitish tan in color and an inch to two inches long, they covered the dog’s entire nose and bristled angrily from its mouth and from the area close to its eyes.
    Erik gasped and stopped, horrified, not knowing what to do. He tried to remember what he’d read or heard about porcupine quills. He was pretty sure they had barbs on the ends that made them really difficult to remove. And that they were terribly, terribly painful.
    â€œIt’s going to be okay, boy,” he said softly and soothingly. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out. We’ll fix you up, boy, don’t worry.”
    Despite its obvious pain, the dog gazed up at him and—he could scarcely believe it—wagged the tip of its stubby tail back and forth several times. Then it rose unsteadily to its feet and looked at him uncertainly.
    â€œDon’t worry, boy,” Erik said, trying to keep his voice low and reassuring in spite of his racing heart. “I’m not going to hurt you any more.”
    He’d heard stories of people pulling out porcupine quills with pliers, but thinking about how much that would hurt the dog made him feel queasy inside. The idea of calling a vet raced through his mind, but he didn’t know who to call, or whether vets even made house calls, especially for a kid they didn’t know. Then he remembered that Oma had left the church phone number inside on the counter.
    â€œI’m going to go call for help now, okay, boy? Don’t worry. I’m not deserting you. I’ll be right back, I promise. Okay? Just hang on, okay?”
    The dog gave a low whine, and Erik tore himself away. Afraid the dog might run off while he was gone, he closed the barn door and ran to the house.
    He dialed the number Oma had left, and was momentarily taken aback when a strange woman answered, saying, “Red Butte Lutheran Church.”
    â€œIs Oma—I mean, is—” Erik panicked for a moment, unable for the life of him to think of Oma’s real name. “I’m looking for my grandmother, she’s—”
    â€œThis’ll be Erik, then?” the woman said.
    â€œYes! Yes, that’s me. Is Oma there?”
    â€œYou betcha she is, young man,” the woman said kindly. “And she’s so happy you’ve come to visit. Why, she was just telling me how big you are, and how—”
    â€œExcuse me,” Erik said desperately, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but this is kind of—an emergency.”
    â€œOh, my! Goodness! Just a minute. I’ll get her.” The phone clattered as she put it down, and Erik heard her call, “Grace! Grace, you’d better put down that crepe paper and come to the phone, quick, now!”
    After a moment, Oma picked up the phone and said breathlessly, “Erik, is that you? What’s happened? Are you all right?”
    â€œI’m fine,” he said quickly. “It’s just that I—I found a dog. It’s out in the barn, and its whole face is full of porcupine quills, and I didn’t know what to do, and I wondered if you could call a vet or something.”
    â€œOh, dear,” said Oma. “The poor thing. Let me think…I’ll call our friend Bob Thompson and ask him if he’ll come out to the house. He’s a veterinarian.”
    Erik