"Springer-ChasingButterfly" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Jan)

"He's not stupid," she tells them stiffly when they are done. "He's just full of
piss and vinegar."

"He acts dumb! He wants to chase cars."

"He wants to chase everything!"

The dog, freed from the leash and stimulated by the commotion, demonstrates by
whirling after his own wayward tail. The children laugh, but Nona cuts them
short.

"Go look at my azalea," she tells them. "It's loaded with butterflies."

They run out, and so does the dog. The sky is still clouded over, but in a few
moments it clears, the sun starts to shine again, and Nona hears the children
shouting "Grammaw! Come out, you got to see this!"

"I know what he's doing," she mutters into a box of owls. "He's chasing
shadows."

"Grammaw! You sure this dog came complete with a brain?"

"Yeah! Maybe he was Some Assembly Required --"

"-- and they forgot to put one in."

Suddenly the dog starts to bark as if the tract pushers are coming back again,
and Nona gets up from her owl packing and goes out as quickly as she can, which
is not very, not at her age. But the children have things well in hand. One of
them is holding the dog by the collar, and he is snarling and Lois is there,
getting out of her cute little car. It is no wonder the dog is raging at her.
There is anger all around her like a dark halo. She carries two envelopes in her
hand.

"Mother," she says, "what in the world are you thinking of? After all you've
spent already. What do I have to say to make you listen? You've gone through
everything Daddy left you. Bill and I are not made of money. How do you expect
us ever to pay off the charges you're running up?"

Lois has hardly raised her voice, and she does not swear, not ever. Nona raised
her right. But she is scolding her mother in front of the children, and she has
never done that before.

Nona keeps her head up. "Those envelopes are supposed to be in the mail," she
tells her daughter. "What are you doing taking mail out of my mailbox?"

"I thought I'd stop on my way home and bring you your mail, that's what. And
then I find these. Mother, you just can't. Don't you remember all the so-called
prizes you've sent for already? Hundreds of dollars wasted. Thousands, by the