My daughter finished reading Trajectories recently, and her best friend is about 2/3 of the way through. So when I picked them up from school the other day, they jumped into the van with a strange request.
“Mom, can we camp out the next time there’s a full moon?” my daughter asked. “And take along little jars to collect werewolf dust?”
“Sure,” I said, “but I draw the line at weapons.”
“Shoot,” my daughter said. She regrouped fast. “Can we take along a silver spoon or a fork?”
“Okay,” I agreed. “But I can’t guarantee a positive outcome.”
We headed for home, pondering that. I came up with a bright idea. “How about if we make little silver caps for the dogs’ teeth and send them out as protection with you?”
As soon as it came out of my mouth, we all knew it would never work. Our dog Frank is afraid of rain, and Phoebe, the puppy, is afraid of stairs. The dogs would be long gone before the big boys even showed up. Silver teeth only work if they’re facing forward…which took my daughter on an interesting tangent.
Frank is greater than ten years old. As a geriatric dog, he’s plagued with a number of problems—skin rashes, goopy eyes, and gastrointestinal issues. Putting it as nicely as I’m able, Frank has the worst gas ever.
“What would happen if we fed the dogs silver?” my daughter asked.
“Hmmm,” I said. “As in noxious fumes?”
“Exactly,” she said.
I thought of a tent pitched under the full moon surrounded by eau de argentum courtesy of Frank. She might be on to something there.
It beats a melon baller.