eyes and gritted his teeth as if he were taking a poop.
Peter leaned over to check the carpet, just in case. When he looked back, The Dog was grinning wickedly. And there on the bed was another dog, and next to him another Peter.
âWow,â said Peter. He could even see his own chest rising and falling as he breathed.
The Dog tilted his head at a cocky angle. âNice work, huh? They wonât last forever, though, so weâd better get going.â
Peter went to the window and very quietly pulled it open, then lifted out the screen. The Dog immediately leapt through, while Peter followed more slowly. He put the screen back so none of the neighbors would notice. Then he looked around for The Dog.
âArrooo!â
echoed from down the street. And then again,
âArrooo!â
Peter started off toward the sound.
It was a beautiful night. Peter did not in general like the weather in Arizona: the hot days of the previous summer had left him sticky and miserable, and even in September and October, it had been too warm for him to enjoy being outdoors. But nighttime was another story. Once the sun set, the desert cooled off, the darkness seemingly absorbing the heat. Tonight, Peter felt almost cold as he hurried down the sidewalk, and for a moment he wished he had changed out of his shorts and into jeans. The street was empty except for him, and through the windows of the passing houses, each identical to his own, he could see the blue flickers of televisions; it was easy enough to imagine his neighbors parked on their couches, remotes in their hands. They were inside, staring at screens, all of them the same as the others, and he was out here, in the night, following a magic dog. He sucked the cool night air into his lungs, astounded by his own daring.
âArrooooo!â
The Dog howled again. He stalked out from the shadow of a cactus. âThere you are. Finally. What took you so long?â
Peter didnât bother to answer. âWhere are we going?â
âSomeplace private,â The Dog said. He turned right at the end of the block, Peter following. A few houses later, he turned right again.
âHere,â he said finally, his beard bobbing in satisfaction.
âThe golf course?â Peter asked in confusion.
âThe golf course,â repeated The Dog.
The first thing The Dog did was pee on the green. His urine ran down the flag and into the hole.
âGross,â said Peter.
âItâs not gross,â said The Dog. âItâs friendly. Like leaving a note when you visit a friend whoâs not home. Itâs letting them know I was here.â
âPee is not the same as a note,â said Peter.
âIt is if youâre a dog,â said The Dog.
Peter sighed. âI still donât understand why weâre here. Why the golf course?â
âItâs private,â answered The Dog. âItâs quiet. It has a lot of open space. And Iâve always wanted to pee in one of those holes. So are you ready to get started?â
Peter shivered. He didnât know whether or not it was from the cold. âYes.â
âThis is the thing about magic,â The Dog said. âItâs really just a question of using your brain in a way that you donât normally use it. For example, if you werenât ever taught to read, then that would be a capability of your brain that you werenât using. Magic is kind of like that.â
âSo anyone can do magic?â Peter asked. âI mean, if theyâre taught?â
âItâs not quite as straightforward as that,â The Dog replied, raising his nose to sniff experimentally at the breeze. âMy old master had this theory. You know how some people are able to do incredibly complex math in their heads, without calculators? Or to compose music from a very young age? Well, itâs the same with magic, which comes naturally for some people and doesnât for others. The
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