Chapter 4: Dogs Can't Wrestle

The next morning the Ryan family rose early and Linda set out a quick breakfast of cold cereal. Greg did the dishes while his parents prepared the motor home for travel. Everything had to be put away and all doors and drawers checked to make sure nothing would come open on the road. Dog sat back under the dinette table out of the way.

Finally they were on the freeway headed north. Greg sat in his usual seat and looked out the window. His mind wandered loose, flitting from one thought to another as he concentrated of nothing in particular. There had been so much happen in the past week, what with the recovery of the gold coins, the chess match, and the sword and all. It was almost too much for one person to handle.

"Want to play chess?" Dog asked him. Greg gave Dog a mental nod yes closed his eyes and they played chess on a giant chessboard of Dog's design. The fact it couldn't be touched by anyone didn't make it seem any less real. It still felt strange to close your eyes and instantly begin to float above a chess set, every bit as big as the state of Minnesota and it felt great as well. Greg never realized before just how wonderful an imagination could be. He began to become aware of the advantages he could enjoy if he were able to think about things in deeper ways and have better ideas and stuff.

Before Greg met Dog he had always been a "meat and potatoes sort of guy." He preferred to hang with a bunch of other guys. They roughhoused with each other and talked about "guy things." Yet nobody ever really talked about ideas. Look at him now as he soared above the Earth in his imagination (with the help of Dog, of course.) like he was right now and saw how things worked together. It was scary in some ways and at the same time he found it all exciting in the extreme.

Dog mentally observed his new young friend and thought deep within his own mind, "This is a very rare young man indeed." He was thankful Greg had got lost up on the hillside where he found him. Some day Greg and he were going to go back there and wander the desert, just they two. Then he could show his young friend the hidden cave with all the Spanish Armor in it. And just maybe, he would let Greg discover the old, old space ship hidden under Silly Mountain. The boy wasn't ready yet. In time though, in time hopefully he would be.

While they were in the midst of yet another game of mental chess, Greg suddenly told Dog, "I want to learn some Kung Fu stuff. You know anything about how to do it?"

"A bit," Dog answered cautiously.

"I think it would be great to be able to kick butt when I need to." The "chess set" dissolved as this new topic came up for consideration.

"Do you mean you want to be able to go around and just "kick butt," as you so delicately put it?" Dog asked him carefully.

"Not exactly, I just think it would be great to know how, just sort of in case." To Greg it seemed like a great idea. He had always really hated it he wouldn't grow to be at least six feet six. Look at Chuck Norris, though, he was a real old guy, even older than Dad, and short too and he could plow into those bad guys and really kick butt. It would be great, almost as great as being six feet six.

"It's a lot of hard work." Dog cautioned him. "You'll have to work out at least an hour every day just to get the basics. Later on, if you really wish to be proficient, you'll have to dedicate much more time."

"I'll work real hard at it." Greg was certain he would work real hard and get good at it in a week at the most.

Dog mentally shook his head at the cocksure confidence of his young friend. "You must also prepare yourself mentally," Dog told him. "All great battles are first won in the mind and then on the ground."

"Did Abraham Lincoln say that too?" Greg asked with some sarcasm.

"No," Dog answered him, "It was a man I knew named Lao Tze who lived in China many years ago." It was stated in such a matter-of-fact way Greg believed him.

"Okay, professor, how do I learn to kick butt in my head?" Now this I got to see, he thought to himself.

"Oh ye of little imagination." Dog sighed and instructed Greg, "First you close your eyes and become very still and become aware of your body. Visualize all the muscles and the tendons, even the bone joints in your toes and feet." Dog led Greg on an exploration of his own body. Sheesh, there sure was a lot of stuff in there, Greg decided.

In small increments, Dog guided him through and showed him how to tense and flex the different muscle sets. Greg was amazed when he began to learn a little about the complexity of his own body. "Hey this is great. I keep this up and I'll be able to pat myself on the head, rub my belly and play the piano with my toes all at the same time." He grinned as he visualized himself doing it. Dog sent him a mental picture of the guys in the white tee shirts with "Funny Farm" printed on them with the butter fly nets in their hands chasing a wild eyed, drooling Greg across a field.

Greg grinned and thought, "You're just jealous because you can't play the piano with your toes. He thought a picture back at Dog of a cartoon dog trying to play the piano with his hind feet. Then they settled down and began to do the mental exercises again.

Every time his dad stopped at a rest stop, Greg and Dog went for a short run. Greg got all grossed out the first time he saw Dog catch a rabbit and eat it. Dog explained how this was the way of nature. Everything fed something else, even down to the lowliest plants growing underground. Then it didn't bother him so much. Besides Greg and dad went hunting, so he was aware of blood and butchering for food. It was just when he watched Dog eat raw meat and spit out the fur it bothered him a little.

Greg loved to watch Dog's great body and the way it seemed to almost flow over the ground when he ran. It was a kind of beauty all by itself. "You are beautiful when you run all low to the ground." Greg thought at his friend. "It almost seems you're floating on air."