|Echos of the rock krampus.|
Doubt creeps up in the crunchy steep brush. It starts with a distant cackling in your eardrums.
Was that my wheezing nostril?
You stop and hold your breath before the dogs notice you’ve stopped and come circling back.
Inhale and exhale forcefully out your beak to make sure it’s not some well positioned mucus.
Now the dogs are back, panting and whining, pacing in your path, wanting an explanation as to why the hell you’ve stopped and why you haven’t thrown the water bowl on the ground yet.
The cackling returns.
You grab the muzzle of the closest and loudest spazz.
The hair stands on your neck in anticipation.* (*My neck is too hairy for the follicles to take effective action.)
The dogs return to the front and you’re left in the silence ultimately guessing your level of sanity.
You’re just hearing things..
Until the downwind covey jumps 50 yards to your back and makes for the far slope.
Maybe it’s time to get the dogs apnea checked out.