NitLO Oct 30
Beside the largest of the rocks, facing east, Larry sat in a meditative posture, his eyes more than half-closed, his breathing barely discernible.
I was loath to disturb his meditation or the peace of the place, and had I known how long he might be about it, I would have been willing to wait, or even to go away and return later. But there was no way for me to tell, and since the news I brought him involved the safety of his life, I approached him.
"Larry," I said. "It's me, Snuff. Hate to bother you. . . ."
But I hadn't. He gave no sign of having heard me.
I repeated what I had said, studying his face, his breathing. There were no changes in either.
I reached out and touched him with my paw. No reaction.
I barked loudly, several times. It was as if I hadn't. He had gone pretty far, wherever it was that he had gone.
So I threw back my head and howled. He didn't notice, and it didn't matter that he didn't notice. It's a good thing to do when you're frustrated.