I thought maybe an animal had gotten trapped in there and was trying to get out. Buddy spent a lot of time snooping around, but he always trotted back from the field with a satisfied look, like someone had just fed him a T-bone. I wondered why Mama and Daddy didn’t hear the rustling. It got louder every day. I thought about going in to investigate it myself but was just too doggone scared. It might be one of those weird things like on The Twilight Zone, and I sure didn’t want Rod Serling introducing a show about me. I decided I’d just spend my days inside. Ricky couldn’t go out anyway, and I hated always playing by myself. Mama was still in a tizzy over him getting overheated and would barely allow him near the window. I stayed in my room mostly, listening to the marches of John Philip Sousa and twirling my baton like I was one of those glittery girls during the halftime show at a UT game. They’re lucky, getting to perform at football games in places like Arkansas and Oklahoma.
