Our story thus far: Musing that I wanted the years ahead to be filled with adventure, I was startled when my 11-year-old dog agreed, “Let’s have an adventure!” and then told me she had seen an inter-dimensional portal in the back yard. The younger dog whined, but I slid the patio door open.

“Eww, you need to pick up back here more,” said Summer, who was the timid young dog.

“I’ll take care of it after we deal with this inter-dimensional portal that Dejah found near the garden shed,” I said, watching my step anyway.

“It’s right over here,” Dejah said.

“I’m still a little freaked out that you’re talking,” I admitted.

“That freaks you out, but not the inter-dimensional portal floating in the air?” Dejah said.

“Well, I have to say that adds to the freakout factor.”

We reached the garden shed. Sure enough, some sort of round glowing thing was hanging in the air, kind of a cross between the Guardian of Forever in Star Trek and the Stargate in Stargate except without the artificial structure forming it, and we could see another world through it. Not an alien world — we could see grass and trees on the other side — just a different world.

“Hang on,” Dejah said, looking up through the portal. “What’s that?”

“I don’t see anything.”

“That’s because you’re not looking from down here.”

Then I saw what she meant. A shadow fell across the opening, and then a huge, scaly foot appeared. It was ghastly and gnarled and looked more like a tree trunk than animal skin, with three clawed toes.

The foot began a cautious descent through the portal into the back yard.

“I’m going back in the house now,” said Summer, and she scampered up the stairs to the deck.

I held my breath, wondering if the creature was flexible enough to fold itself through the portal. And if it could, was it friend or foe? Just because the foot was incredibly ugly didn’t mean the beast had ugly intent, right? Still, I wish I had thought to bring a baseball bat.

The foot reached the ground and landed on a fairly squishy bit of dog poop.

We heard an unearthly sound, a cry that chilled me to the bone, after the foot turned to make its bottom visible to the creature on the other side of the portal.

The best approximation of the sound we heard is something like, “EEEWWWWWWW.” The foot quickly lifted back to the other side of the portal, which then shrank suddenly into nonexistence with a decided “Pop!”

For a moment there was no sound except Dejah’s panting.

“Well, that was interesting,” she said then.

“I told you that you needed to pick up back here!” Summer called from the deck.

“We just fended off an alien invasion!” I said, defensively.

“Or ruined an opportunity for first contact,” Dejah said. When I looked at her curiously, she added, “Hey, I watch Star Trek, too, when you do. You think all I do is nap down here?”

“OK, OK, I’ll go get the pooper scooper,” I said.

“That will have to wait,” said Dejah. “Look behind you.”

I turned, and at first I broke into a delighted smile, but a corner of my mind was terrified.

On this glorious morning I stood on the deck and cried, “It’s a good day to have a good day!” but did I believe it? The sun had not yet risen and there was an October chill in the air. Still, I was rested from a longer night’s sleep than usual, if stiff from the inactivity. What adventures might lay ahead for me and this young patient hound at my side, with her old compatriot panting across the room? Were our greatest adventures behind us, after all, and we were fated to live out our days pacing among these cluttered rooms, sifting through the debris of old books and forgotten papers?

“No!” I cried, and not just because the young dog had begun to harass her older sister. “No, I refuse to settle into a routine that leads to my death bed. There are years ahead that I mean to navigate, perhaps even circumnavigate, worlds to explore, sights to see, aromas to breathe in, perhaps even pleasures to touch. I may be moving more slowly, but I’m not dead yet.” From the corner of my mind emerged the melody of a long-forgotten tune, and I tasted the memory of a fine meal, to complete the journey of all five senses. “This is life, and I mean to live,” I murmured.

As if in agreement, the aging dog shifted from one side of the love seat to the side closer to me, and looked at me expectantly.

“What would you have me do?” I asked. “I fed you, I let you out —”

“What were you just talking about, silly?” the old dog said, and I gasped, because she had never spoken in 11 years. “Adventure! Let’s have an adventure!”

Of course, I wanted to shout, “You talked! You’re talking! How can it be that you’re talking?”

But instead I said, rather meekly, “What kind of adventure were you thinking about?”

I would swear that her panting shifted in a way that made it sound like she was laughing. 

“The kind of adventure that begins with your dog talking to you, of course,” she said. “That’s the elephant in the room, isn’t it?”

“Oh my gosh,” I said. “Is this the beginning of another book that I’ll never finish?”

“There you go again,” the dog sighed. “Let’s just start the adventure and see where it leads.”

“All right, I guess I’m game,” I said. “What should we do first?”

“Let’s go back into the back yard,” said the old dog. “Did I mention that when we went out to do our business, we noticed an inter-dimensional portal hovering near the garden shed?”

“You most certainly did not!”

“Well,” she said, “I most certainly just did.”

The younger dog whined, but I slid the patio door open.