Montague Reporter, June 2026

“5:14 pm. Caller from Seventh Street reports a male dressed all in black is beating a backpack with a stick. Officers out with male party. Involved male declined any need for services; states he’s a ‘wild man’ and is moving along.”

“How did she do that?”

“Do what, Benny?”

“Aussie was by the door, and then she wasn’t. That’s magic.”

“The magic is called a dog door, Ben. Sometimes, when we can’t explain something according to logic, we call it magic. We call that a dog door.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a door that lets dogs get in and out of the back yard by themselves. A little dog like you has to take a small leap and jump through the plastic.”

“What’s plastic?”

“The door is not solid, Benny, it’s made of plastic, and you can go right through it. Aussie doesn’t have to take a leap because she’s big. You must be trained on how to use it, and Lori hasn’t done that with you yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s concerned for your safety.”

“Why?”

“Because of what happened to Henry.”

“What happened to Henry?”

“She’ll tell you one day, Benny. For now, she doesn’t want you to slip out and run freely in the back till she’s totally sure that the fence will contain you.”

“But I want to run out and see the world!”

“She’s afraid that you’re too young and too small, Ben.”

“When we’re young is exactly the time to run out and explore.”

“Lori is apprehensive about that, Ben.”

“Because I’m young and little.”

“Yes, but you know something, Benny? Older people are also expected to not run out and explore the world.”

“You don’t jump through dog doors? Why not?”

“This one is a little small for me.”

“Don’t you want to see the world? Aren’t you excited? Aren’t you curious? Don’t you wonder what’s just around the corner?”

“I’m afraid that many older people think they know damn well what’s around the corner, so they don’t need to go around the corner.”

“What’s the use of living when you always know what’s around the corner?”

“Good question, Benny. We don’t really know what’s around the corner no matter how many times we’ve gone around the corner. Could be something completely different, as I found out with Henry one beautiful and happy day that turned out not so beautiful and not so happy.”

“There’s Henry again.”

“When we were your age, Benny, we all wanted to go through dog doors and see the world.”

“When you were one-and-a-half years old?”

“The equivalent. I remember even now standing on Reads Lane in front of our house, and looking down the road till it reached a T, knowing that if I turned right at that corner, it would take me to see the world. Or rather, New York City.”

“Did you need training to get through the door?”

“No. If anything, Ben, I needed untraining to get away from the fear and anxiety of strange people and things that I’d absorbed at home.”

“And what about now, when you’re older?”

“I still want to go out and see the world, but it’s more of a mixed bag.”

“You let dog doors keep you inside?”

“I love my home, Benny. And not just the physical home, the home inside, too.”

“Huh?”

“When I do go away, I want to see people, Benny. I want to hear and see what moves them, what gives them life. Like you, I’m still full of curiosity.”

“So why won’t Lori let me go through the magic dog door?”

“Eventually she will. She still thinks about Henry.”

“There’s Henry again. What happened to him? How come nobody tells me what happened to Henry? I even asked Aussie.”

“What did she say?”

“She said: ‘Who’s Henry?’ She said his real name was Illegal Chihuahua.”

“I guess he’s the white elephant in the house, Benny.”

“Henry was a white elephant? And he got through the dog door?”

“OK, I’ll tell you, even if Lori disapproves. Basically, Henry was devoured by coyotes.”

“Why did you have to tell me?”

“You see, Ben, he also wanted to see what was around the corner, what was making that noise, and this time it was a coyote, which led him to an ambush by a coyote pack.”

“At least he found out what was around the corner. What did they do to him?”

“They throttled him to death and then carried his little body away. We never saw him again.”

“Maybe that was magic, too.”

“Come again?”

“That was his dog door to heaven.”

“The coyotes were his dog door to heaven?”

“They were the plastic; he ran right through them and got to heaven. Heaven could be just around the corner.”

“Benny, I never thought of that.”

“Yes, but right now I see a little marrow bone in the hallway. I think I’ll stick with that piece of heaven for now.”