She was obligated. His ranch wasn’t a ranch at all anymore, but was part of a government property. The lady climber squished against the wall, kneading the rock. His dark little film noir had a firm play date and it was plotted under a starless proscenium, so he nipped her up and onward toward that stinky old sleeping bag, her ill-lit stage. She had come to hate big ugly dogs ever since her Dad’s Mastiff had torn and tortured her and taken her from the front a long time ago. “Here it is!” the young botanist proclaimed. Moki, as in Mookie Wookie, Chucky Chookie, Dookie Dookie was an Australian Shepherd, called an Aussie by most, a midsized dog. Now! Yup. The professor found her mid-morning the next day, laying spread-eagle and naked on that ratty old knapsack. His ranch wasn’t a ranch at all anymore, but was part of a government property. Anyway, for a no-nonsense kind of girl like her, Botanical Survey, the stuff of the professoriate, was so much more satisfying than had been Environmental
