You weren’t supposed to stay real quiet and creep around like you didn’t want to raise suspicion. Mom was clueless when it came to wildlife.

Back when the world was free and Mom believed she could predict the future, she aimed the farthest point in our trip at Devil’s Tower in Wyoming. More than anything else, she was visiting for the punchline.

When we dismounted, Mom hid behind the beak of her hat so that no one else in the car kennel could pick her out in a line-up.

“The trick to doing something hard for the first time is knowing that it’s gonna be uncomfortable, and doing it anyway.”

Mom snapped her fingers like a flamenco dancer to get my attention. “Oscar! Oscar! C’mere. Up-up!” she begged like a paparazza, waving her paw over the rock like it was even more amazing than she originally thought.

“Phooey!” I grumbled, knocking the bowl so the kibble spilled all over the bed. That felt pretty good, but one of Mom’s two-handed face rubs would have felt even better.

With everyone trapped at home, the world would need a protector to keep an eye on things to herd everyone back together when it was safe to come out again. That hero would need a sidekick. A referee who knew how to twist silly rules until they made sense again and wield Murphy’s Law to make impossible things happen, like bringing rain to the desert. The fate of the world rested on its globe-trotting hero, Tintin Quarantino and his faithful referee-sidekick, the Weather Jinx.

“Can’t the Witch call for help or something?” I asked. “You think there’s going to be cell service all the way out there?” Mom challenged. “We just left the only town big enough for a stop sign for 100 miles in any direction.” 

She placed the paper ceremonially on the front windowsill and tapped it a couple of times to prove it was there on purpose. “Think of it as double-paying in protest.”  “That’ll show ’em.” 

“It’s the treasure that sparkles, not the treasure hunter,” I reminded her. “Why don’t you wear the sparkly clothes for a change?” “Don’t be silly,” Mom said. “You’re the star of the show.” I couldn’t argue with that.

Mom almost never runs with a water bottle, especially in a race, when people volunteer to serve her. Perhaps I should have insisted that she drink out of the puddle. 

“You sure are lucky you’re leaving the City when you are. It’s coming…” She paused for a meaningful look and her eyes added, You know what I’m talking about and how monstrous it is. 

It didn’t really matter where the Wagon was, as long as I was inside it with Mom. But what happens when your home goes back home?

“Maybe a prince will come knocking on every wagon door in Oregon searching for the freakishly small foot that fits,” I told her.

“Maybe a prince will come knocking on every wagon door in Oregon searching for the freakishly small foot that fits,” I told her.

I sat up to see the luxury campground that would be our home for the night. “Look, Mom! A Wendy’s! And it’s right nextdoor!”

I sat up to see the luxury campground that would be our home for the night. “Look, Mom! A Wendy’s! And it’s right nextdoor!”

“It’s beautiful!” Mom said, still in that ooey-gooey strawberry-shortcake voice. “This must be what enchantment feels like.”

“Silly dog. Nature deals luck randomly. We have to be prepared for anything so we can survive a bad hand until the cards are dealt again.”

“Silly dog. Nature deals luck randomly. We have to be prepared for anything so we can survive a bad hand until the cards are dealt again.”