One fall day I woke up to find that one of my two dogs, Frosty, was missing. Toby came running to me when I called. He knew it was time to get fed. I noticed that access to the swinging dog-door was open. I must have forgotten to close it when we all went to bed.
At first, I was not worried because we lived on a rural farm. A lot of acreage, and few people. The dogs liked to roam the fields. That is what Frosty must have done, I thought. He wasn’t fed, so he must have gone outside to roam around on some early morning adventure. I called him a few times, fed Toby, and ate some cereal. Frosty still had not returned by the time I finished.
That is when I started to worry. Why didn’t he come home? He is almost always drawn to food – a chow hound - and he would know his breakfast would be waiting for him.
Both dogs enjoyed the river, liking to wade into the shallows to cool off, maybe chase a frog or chase minnows. So, I figured that was where I’d have to start looking for him.
I grabbed an open bag of peanuts – snack for me - and stuffed it into my light jacket pocket. Neither dog cared for peanuts, but they would eat them if there was nothing better to choose, so I grabbed a small snack bag of liver-flavored dog-treats. I put on my NY Yankees baseball cap. Outside the weather was refreshingly cool, so I left the jacket unzipped.
Toby stood on his hind legs and pawed at my thigh, so I knew that he wanted to come with me. I left a note for my wife -still sleeping- and departed for the river which would take me about twenty minutes of walking through a field of tall weeds, stunted saplings, and wild bushes. As I walked, I yelled to Frosty to come to me, but got no response. I also whistled loudly because that was a signal for him to come to get a treat. No response from Frosty made me nervous. Toby must have also sensed something was wrong because he whined by my side. I picked him up, petted him and told him that he was a good boy. I set him down and immediately his ears twitched, and his head turned to face a portion of the river. I needed to proceed farther before I heard the barking. It was a different kind of bark, too. It was more like crying or whining. Toby knew where he was. With a satisfied grin I reached into my coat pocket to grab a liver treat for him.
As I was jogging toward the barking sound, I ate a few peanuts. Toby barked for a treat, too, but I did not stop. I had to check on Frosty to see what happened to him and why he did not come when called.
Then Toby ran ahead of me and I saw him stop at the shore. As I got closer, I saw that Frosty was on the opposite shore, barking louder when he saw his brother, Toby.
I pondered the situation, mumbling, “How the hell did he do that?” Naturally, logic told me he must have swam across. It must have scared him during his crossing, so he did not want to do it again.
Toby was so excited that he was jumping up and down and barking along with Frosty. For a moment I could not think straight, then the hard realization came to mind that, since the only bridge was a mile or more away, I would have to wade or swim across the river to get him, or I could go home, hook up the boat trailer and rowboat, then find my way to the parking spot across the bridge, the one that was reserved for fishermen. Then I could unload the boat and use the oars to get Frosty. Too much work, I thought. It would be much easier to take off my clothes to my underwear and swim across. I knew that the autumn water would by cold, but the river was only about one-hundred feet across. But the current was not swift enough to impede my crossing – no wonder Frosty didn’t want to risk it a second time. I would have to start farther upstream so the current, as I swam, carried me close to Frosty.
The barking had stopped, and that surprised me. The dogs were looking at something. First, they sat and stared, then they laid down and whined. I looked toward where they were staring and only saw a ragged, homeless man who looked as if he had spent a lifetime in poverty. I’ll give him a few dollars, I thought.
His clothes were torn, dirty, and greasy. They matched what little head hair I could see. His long beard was just as dirty. It was matted. I thought I saw a twig stuck in it. He had a hood over his head which put his face in shadow, making it unclear. What was clear, however, was that a raven balanced on his shoulder, its large beak opening and closing, staring at me as if he wished that he could eat my eyes.
Both dogs began to growl until I told them to be quiet. The rapid tail wagging replaced the growling. The sound of Toby’s tail swishing across the dirt of the shore sounded like an ominous wind gathering strength, but I didn’t know why, yet. Both dog’s eyes showed fear. I asked myself, “What the hell is happening here?”
The wizened man approached me as if he already knew that I was confused and that was what he was expecting. He walked right up to me, no hesitation, then he placed his boney right hand onto my left shoulder. When I looked, I saw fingernails that looked like pointed knives. I looked back at him. His grin was wide and looked like a knife slash. I felt his hand on my left shoulder, but I kept looking at his face. A moustache covered his upper lip and hung down over part of his mouth. It was greasy, just as dirty as his beard. I could hardly see his skin through the dirt, smudges, and stains. His face had a sharp angle from ears to chin, coming to a blunt point. He removed his hood and in the morning light I could also see that his face was so deeply lined with age that I sensed danger, as if I had to be on my guard or I’d fall into the multiple crevices of his aged face. His long hair covered his ears and matched his other facial hair. Yellowish, reddish teeth, rotten in places, reinforced the feeling of danger and disgust. He stepped closer and demonstrated a sly grin. I supposed it was supposed to be intimidating. It was.
I was not aware that my hand was in my pocket so when I removed it, I spilled peanuts onto the shore – the bag was open for easy snack access. I was not aware of that until later. The liver snack in my hand, I dropped on the ground for Toby. It was the raven that was eyeing the peanuts that had fallen. Satan turned his head slowly and whispered something to him and it stayed settled on his shoulder
Silence occupied the space between us, like an unnerving invisible wall. The dogs became rigid, rising fur and soft growling, but they appeared frozen in place, like statues.
I was startled when I heard, “Sure would be nice to have a bridge here.” I was wondering when he would say something.
I was, initially, at a loss for words. The idea that I was facing Satan, in the dirty, greasy flesh seemed unreal to me. But I saw the upside-down crucifix hanging from his neck and the fire in his eyes. Literally, flames were flickering in both eyes. I had seen enough movies to know what it meant. I hadn’t noticed it before because it was deep brown, as well as the string holding it around his neck. A camouflage affect had occurred.
“Ahh. I see that you have figured out who I am. It wasn’t difficult, was it? You never thought that I was real, and never thought that I would reveal myself to you, but I have a Hell-of-a-good-reason for doing so.” He flash a smile at his unrecognized innuendo. “Now,” he paused, as if wanting a dramatic affect. “Now, I suppose you would like a bridge to be right where we stand so it would be easy to retrieve your worthless animal. I hate those things, and when the situation arises where I take their soul, I kill them quickly. Anyway, would you like to have a bridge?” he asked, charmingly. His eyes glinted reddish, his grin like an open wound. He was enjoying teasing me. I stared at him; he stared at me. Neither of us giving in to the other, though I began to feel hot and sweaty, and less self-confident.
“Of course,” I answered, warily, keeping calm and radiating the thought that he could not take me or my precious dogs.
“I can easily erect a bridge for you.”
“At what cost? I have little money in my wallet,” I answered.
“Why the Hell would I ever need money? It’s useless to me, as well as are promises, favors, begging and other human garbage, but I will make a wager with you.”
“Name it,” I answered laconically, as I looked into his deeper, almost hypnotizing, vermillion eyes. He was trying to either draw me into him or he was trying to enter me.
“Sneaky bastard,” I thought.
“Let’s not get into a name-calling contest, agreed?”
“Agreed. Now what is the wager?”
“My payment, for the bridge will be that I can take the soul of the first living thing that crosses over it.” Now he stood silently, waiting for my reply. “Think carefully,” he said, his voice ominous, but his face grinning.
After a short pause I replied, “OK. It’s a deal.” My quick response startled him. He dismissed it and looked at me as if I were a moron.
I knew that he was a collector of souls. Human souls that were sent to Hell. So, after the bridge was erected, and I crossed over it, he would take my soul straight to Hell, laughing all the way. If one of the dogs crossed the bridge, he would kill it and hurt me terribly that way. But I had a plan. That is why I agreed to the wager.
Satan said, “It appears there.” He pointed, and a wooden bridge appeared there and as expected, I saw Frosty running toward it.
I quickly bent over, picked up a rock and, with an underhand motion, I noisily rolled it across the length of the bridge to get Frosty’s attention; to stop him from crossing. I yelled ferociously, “No, Frosty, No!”
Then I quickly snatched up Toby and held him under my left arm while pulling the bag of peanuts out of my pocket, spilling some so the raven would see them. I threw the bag in an arch which paralleled the bridge floor. Frosty, being curious, stopped to sniff the bag. Toby struggled in my arm, wanting to cross the bridge to be with Frosty.
The raven stirred excitedly, preparing to fly. Satan tried to grab him, but the raven escaped his clawed grasp and flew along the length of the bridge to get to the delicious snack of peanuts. It cawed loudly with delight before it landed. Frosty was startled and ran to me, quickly crossing the bridge. The raven was tearing viciously at the peanut bag.
I picked up Frosty. Now I held each dog under an arm. They were safe. I was safe. The first living thing to cross over the bridge was Satan’s raven. It fell, rolled over the bag, fluttered a wing, twitched its legs, then went stiff and died with a betrayed, open-eyed death stare.
It wasn’t only Satan’s eyes which were vermillion; now his entire face turned red. I could see the waves of heat drift off his face. He looked at me with maddingly evil intent.
“A deal is a deal,” I said and walked away from him as he mumbled angrily.
“I’ll see you in Hell,” he screamed. I remained silent and kept walking toward the house, not letting go of my precious dogs.
I awoke, startled, because of my unusually strange and vivid dream. I seldom remember dreams. I immediately looked on the floor by the bed. Frosty and Toby lay there, still peacefully sleeping. When I got out of bed, they rose and followed me to the kitchen to be fed. I opened the dog door and let them out to follow nature’s call.
Later that morning the dogs and I went for a walk to the river. We went to the place where my dream occurred. No bridge, of course. I smiled at my silliness.
I turned and walked toward home telling the dogs to follow me. I had to call them three times before they arrived. They usually obeyed much better. When they arrived, I kneeled and petted them, telling each that he was a good boy. I hugged them to my face, then scratched their fur, especially behind the ears, which they enjoyed. Both started licking my cheeks.
At that moment I got a curious feeling as I was being licked. Then it came to me. I thought I detected the odor of peanuts on each of their breaths.
CODA
Arthur C. Clark: “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.”
Michael Shermer: “Any sufficiently advanced extraterrestrial intelligence is
indistinguishable from God.
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