Max had begun to ululate the moment we left the community center and he often does that when Wendell is nearby. Wendell’s uncle, Old Thunder, had passed away last autumn and Wendell had been spending more time in town since then. Usually he went to the Moose, but often he came to visit Max and me. “Want to come in for some tea?” I asked by way of greeting. “Sure,” he said, giving Max a quick ear-rub. Wendell raised Max when he was a pup and still had his sire. Max’s dam had recently whelped and there were new puppies. “I heard the Janus brothers were in town.” Janus, for the two faces of God’s representatives. Wendell wasn’t terribly fond of either man, but he followed the old ways and was therefore considered by them to be a godless heathen. Which was unfair because he definitely had a god. Or maybe several. We never really discussed it. “Yes. They’ve come to talk to me about the wedding.” I knew I sounded glum and tried to find a smile as I pulled the tin kettle out of the coals.
