The dog was just beginning his second year, and after having been cooped up all winter, he was so giddy at getting outside into the lovely spring weather that he couldn’t decide whether to chase his tail or hightail it into the woods. To tell the truth, Elsie was just as glad to have an excuse to get out of the house on her day off. She called an acquaintance to ask for permission to train the dog on his land. The permission duly given, she sprayed herself and Mac against the ubiquitous bugs, put him into the truck, and drove west toward Temple Mountain. Just before the top of the pass, she took a right turn and headed north along a winding road bordered by thick woods, which were broken only by the occasional house. Most of them were new construction, with wide lawns and curving, paved driveways carved out of the forest. These houses had no actual residents; the owners were away from dawn to dusk at their jobs in Boston or Worcester. Sometimes they even lived in New York City from Sunday night to Friday evening, returning to spend the weekend in their oversized, overpriced mansions.
