kind of focal point for a ‘steel magnetism’ that was brought when the railroad first came through.”
Jeremiah cringed away from the dog, who sat placidly by a couch with her tongue poking out. She blinked and actually looked as though she were smiling. “No wonder she doesn’t eat! Do ghosts eat? What need do they have of food? Have you ever seen her take a shit?”
Foster rolled his eyes and turned away to the fireplace, but Tabitha seemed to be actually considering the showman’s words. “Now that you mention it, no. I’ve never had to clean up after her, but I assumed she went to the necessary in someone else’s garden.”
Jeremiah squealed, “Because ghost dogs don’t piss!”
Tabitha continued, “And I’ve definitely noticed she seems to vanish into the thin blue sky. One moment she’ll be sitting next to me, the next second she’ll appear in another room. Or even completely gone from the house altogether and will appear on the front porch. One time—dear Lord, where did this gorgeous gown come from?” Tabitha was distracted by an emerald green gown draped across the back of the couch, and she moved to pick it up. “Foster? Who brought this gown in? This wasn’t here before.”
Foster shook his head with irritation. “Nobody came in. I’ve been here the whole time. Now listen, Mr. Jeremiah. You, too, Worth. While I’ve certainly seen my share of specters that would make your skin crawl, a dog simply can’t be a ghost. There are no dogs in the afterlife.”
Jeremiah asked logically, “Then where do they go when they die? And in what form do they become reborn? As prairie dogs?”
“As hedgehogs?” Worth pointed out.
Foster glared. “Furthermore, we can feel this dog! Aren’t ghosts insubstantial, flimsy, and…well, ghostly? ”
“Like pudding,” said Tabitha distractedly, holding the beautiful gown up to her form.
Foster paused briefly, probably admiring the way the green of the gown reflected in the sapphire of Tabitha’s eyes. “I can’t accept that. This dog is substantial, fluffy, and—”
Woof!
Everyone in the room froze like waxworks figures. Worth was the first to make a break for the window and peer past the curtains.
Phineas stood in the middle of the street, woofing at them!
She looked straight at Worth, and because she was so large, her woof resounded up and down the street. “It’s Phineas!” cried Worth, and the others rushed to the window, too.
They were just in time to see a horse and carriage moving carelessly down the avenue pass entirely through the dog without mussing one lock of fur on her giant head. She continued calmly sitting, cheerfully woofing again.
“I don’t know about you,” said Jeremiah from behind Worth’s shoulder, “but I’m not about to go out front and touch that ghost dog.”
This time, Tabitha was the first out the door. Worth saw the train of her lavender gown flash around the corner of the parlor door, and she was gone. Foster gripped Worth’s shoulder, and they leapt into action, both trying to fit through the parlor door at the same time. They squirmed and grunted like two strapping he-men trying to save a damsel, and finally Worth popped free.
By the time he gained the front porch, Tabitha had already mounted her fine mare. Worth was impressed with how swiftly she had mounted and that she was riding astride like a man.
“Come on!” she called to the men. “Phineas is trying to show us something!”
Indeed, the dog had already taken off at a slow gallop west down Garfield Street. Foster was just as swift to mount his bay, Worth fumbling with his own mount. Jeremiah flailed about on the front porch, calling out, “No, thanks! Horses don’t like me!” although nobody had invited him.
Four blocks down, the horses clattered over the Union Pacific rail lines and straight through a shantytown of railroad men tending fires, bending the elbow, and playing fiddles. The workers looked curiously at them as they
Jeremiah cringed away from the dog, who sat placidly by a couch with her tongue poking out. She blinked and actually looked as though she were smiling. “No wonder she doesn’t eat! Do ghosts eat? What need do they have of food? Have you ever seen her take a shit?”
Foster rolled his eyes and turned away to the fireplace, but Tabitha seemed to be actually considering the showman’s words. “Now that you mention it, no. I’ve never had to clean up after her, but I assumed she went to the necessary in someone else’s garden.”
Jeremiah squealed, “Because ghost dogs don’t piss!”
Tabitha continued, “And I’ve definitely noticed she seems to vanish into the thin blue sky. One moment she’ll be sitting next to me, the next second she’ll appear in another room. Or even completely gone from the house altogether and will appear on the front porch. One time—dear Lord, where did this gorgeous gown come from?” Tabitha was distracted by an emerald green gown draped across the back of the couch, and she moved to pick it up. “Foster? Who brought this gown in? This wasn’t here before.”
Foster shook his head with irritation. “Nobody came in. I’ve been here the whole time. Now listen, Mr. Jeremiah. You, too, Worth. While I’ve certainly seen my share of specters that would make your skin crawl, a dog simply can’t be a ghost. There are no dogs in the afterlife.”
Jeremiah asked logically, “Then where do they go when they die? And in what form do they become reborn? As prairie dogs?”
“As hedgehogs?” Worth pointed out.
Foster glared. “Furthermore, we can feel this dog! Aren’t ghosts insubstantial, flimsy, and…well, ghostly? ”
“Like pudding,” said Tabitha distractedly, holding the beautiful gown up to her form.
Foster paused briefly, probably admiring the way the green of the gown reflected in the sapphire of Tabitha’s eyes. “I can’t accept that. This dog is substantial, fluffy, and—”
Woof!
Everyone in the room froze like waxworks figures. Worth was the first to make a break for the window and peer past the curtains.
Phineas stood in the middle of the street, woofing at them!
She looked straight at Worth, and because she was so large, her woof resounded up and down the street. “It’s Phineas!” cried Worth, and the others rushed to the window, too.
They were just in time to see a horse and carriage moving carelessly down the avenue pass entirely through the dog without mussing one lock of fur on her giant head. She continued calmly sitting, cheerfully woofing again.
“I don’t know about you,” said Jeremiah from behind Worth’s shoulder, “but I’m not about to go out front and touch that ghost dog.”
This time, Tabitha was the first out the door. Worth saw the train of her lavender gown flash around the corner of the parlor door, and she was gone. Foster gripped Worth’s shoulder, and they leapt into action, both trying to fit through the parlor door at the same time. They squirmed and grunted like two strapping he-men trying to save a damsel, and finally Worth popped free.
By the time he gained the front porch, Tabitha had already mounted her fine mare. Worth was impressed with how swiftly she had mounted and that she was riding astride like a man.
“Come on!” she called to the men. “Phineas is trying to show us something!”
Indeed, the dog had already taken off at a slow gallop west down Garfield Street. Foster was just as swift to mount his bay, Worth fumbling with his own mount. Jeremiah flailed about on the front porch, calling out, “No, thanks! Horses don’t like me!” although nobody had invited him.
Four blocks down, the horses clattered over the Union Pacific rail lines and straight through a shantytown of railroad men tending fires, bending the elbow, and playing fiddles. The workers looked curiously at them as they
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