“Bikinis aren’t an essential life skill for women over 30,” Mom said like a warning. “Anyone who’s day-drinking alone has parts of their life that are out of control, but that lady isn’t ready to let herself go.

When the Weather Jinx spoke, the sky awoke. Right on cue, it darkened to a mominous grey and threw down a spat of rain while it gathered its clouds to show what it could really do. “I sure hope this weather breaks soon,” the Jinx jinxed. 

Dogs go potty in words, leaving public messages for any passing creature to enjoy, but Mom doesn’t like to pee where someone can see. Humans go potty like punctuation, as if its only meaning is a moment of privacy between important things. 

Salt Lake City was the worst place to get sucked into at a time when friendship was against the law. It’s filled with people so friendly that they’ll ring a stranger’s doorbell just to meet whoever’s inside.

“They’re outlawing friendship?” I whimpered. I would never be able to hide my friendliness for long enough to stay out of trouble. “They can’t really send you to the pound for charisma, can they?”

“If you can pick your problems,” I coached, “maybe you shouldn’t see wet socks as a problem at all. You would have less to worry about if dry socks weren’t something that you expected from life.”

“For the love of Dog, let me go!” I squirmed. “Hold still.” She squeezed me tighter. “I might drop you if I lose my balance.” 

Dogs don’t take pictures, but Mom had tried to explain it before. “Doesn’t a photo capture exactly what the world looks like?” I asked, showing her my bored look in profile. “Instead of taking a hunerd pictures, you could just take one and look at it for longer.” 

“Do you know where canyons come from?” Mom asked, cheating as usual. Whenever she gets stuck, she uses science to invent some improbable story because she knows a dog can’t argue with science. This time, she didn’t even wait for me to guess. “Rivers dig canyons over millions of years.”

“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.” 

“No, Mom! This is awesome!” I corrected her. “It’s better than awesome. It’s… There’s no word for how awesome it is in your language.” So I barked the word in my language and did a cartwheel followed by a sprint to show her what it meant. 

There was something creepy about being so close to something so big.

Oscar sees many magical things in Monument Valley and meets one of his heroes

"Oh look! A cairn." Mom veered toward a little stack of rocks. I sniffed the pile. "Hello, Karen. My name is Oscar."

"Oh look! A cairn." Mom veered toward a little stack of rocks. I sniffed the pile. "Hello, Karen. My name is Oscar."

"Heights... I can't... I'm too scared to get close enough to take a good picture," she admitted. "I was kind of hoping you'd do it for me."

"Heights... I can't... I'm too scared to get close enough to take a good picture," she admitted. "I was kind of hoping you'd do it for me."

The monster halted and let out a screech like a carrion bird. Then it backed up for a closer look.

"Oh well. I suppose you've learned your lesson. Please move out of the way so we can go."

"Oh well. I suppose you've learned your lesson. Please move out of the way so we can go."