loose from one of the top hooks. Not remembering how securely it had been fastened in place, they couldn’t rule out a breeze as the culprit rather than a large dog. It was decided to put a screen-door hook at the bottom and fix the screen before the next evening.
Leaving Sister Bernarda for a few moments, Sister Agatha took Rex from Sister Clothilde, who had just given the dog a tortilla spread with peanut butter. Rex was furiously licking the roof of his mouth to get at the peanut butter that had leaked from the tortilla.
“I’m afraid I need to take Rex on a mission of discovery. Pray he shows us how he’s getting in,” Sister Agatha said.
She met with Sister Bernarda a few minutes later and they set out. They examined the gap between the hinges on the gate and the wooden posts that anchored it to the wall. It was only four inches wide, too narrow for a dog as large as Rex. There was just enough clearance under the closed gate for a fat snake, and the limestone gravel underneath was compacted by traffic and showed no sign of having been disturbed.
Next they walked outside the enclosed grounds, examining the ground there. The earth was hard packed, which meant little or no tracks, so they broadened their search. As Sister Agatha glanced around her, she noted the fenced-in electrical transformer that provided power to their area. Tall tumble-weeds lined the inside and outside of the fence, and a warning sign in English and Spanish cautioned against the shock hazard. The narrow gate was padlocked, and obviously hadn’t been used in a while, judging by the weeds growing against it on both sides.
They walked all the way around the area bordering the monastery grounds, leaving no stone unturned, even when crossing the abandoned, concrete-lined irrigation ditch that had been there since the 1920s. They looked for rocks or high spots on the outside of the wall that could have given Rex a jumping platform of sorts, and searched the ground for paw prints that might give them a clue as to the route he’d used, but there was nothing obvious.
Finally they walked over to the cottonwood tree closest to the wall. Sister Agatha looked up at the relatively low branch that extended above the wall.
“Nice try, but dogs don’t climb trees,” Sister Bernarda said, laughing.
“Let’s see if it
could
be done. When I was a child I saw movies where dogs did some amazing things,” Sister Agatha reached up and grabbed a limb, pulling herself up slowly until she was standing on a stout branch six feet up, holding herself steady by grabbing the branch above her head.
“I think you’re wasting your time—and likely to fall,” she said suddenly, concerned by the height Sister Agatha had reached.
“Let’s see what happens. Rex, come!” Sister Agatha called to the dog, who’d been watching her curiously.
To their amazement, the dog leaped up to a fork in the tree about five feet off the ground, then walked up the same limb Sister Agatha was standing on. As she moved forward, the branch started to droop toward the wall.
“Look, I could walk all the way over to the wall, and I bet he could too,” Sister Agatha said.
“Okay. Now get off there before that branch breaks, and the order has to spend a fortune on duct tape to put both of you back together.”
“One more minute.”
“Even if he can do it, the fact remains that we don’t know if the dog would have thought of doing that on his own. The only way we could consider it proof is if we’d seen him doing it
before
now.”
“But this method would explain why he couldn’t get back out once he was in,” Sister Agatha said slowly.
Sister Bernarda called Rex, who climbed back down easily. For Sister Agatha getting out of the tree was more difficult. Her long, heavy habit kept catching in the branches and tangling about her feet. Finally, she was back on the ground.
“If we rule out the tree, or someone using a ladder to come and go, then rubbing out their tracks,
Leaving Sister Bernarda for a few moments, Sister Agatha took Rex from Sister Clothilde, who had just given the dog a tortilla spread with peanut butter. Rex was furiously licking the roof of his mouth to get at the peanut butter that had leaked from the tortilla.
“I’m afraid I need to take Rex on a mission of discovery. Pray he shows us how he’s getting in,” Sister Agatha said.
She met with Sister Bernarda a few minutes later and they set out. They examined the gap between the hinges on the gate and the wooden posts that anchored it to the wall. It was only four inches wide, too narrow for a dog as large as Rex. There was just enough clearance under the closed gate for a fat snake, and the limestone gravel underneath was compacted by traffic and showed no sign of having been disturbed.
Next they walked outside the enclosed grounds, examining the ground there. The earth was hard packed, which meant little or no tracks, so they broadened their search. As Sister Agatha glanced around her, she noted the fenced-in electrical transformer that provided power to their area. Tall tumble-weeds lined the inside and outside of the fence, and a warning sign in English and Spanish cautioned against the shock hazard. The narrow gate was padlocked, and obviously hadn’t been used in a while, judging by the weeds growing against it on both sides.
They walked all the way around the area bordering the monastery grounds, leaving no stone unturned, even when crossing the abandoned, concrete-lined irrigation ditch that had been there since the 1920s. They looked for rocks or high spots on the outside of the wall that could have given Rex a jumping platform of sorts, and searched the ground for paw prints that might give them a clue as to the route he’d used, but there was nothing obvious.
Finally they walked over to the cottonwood tree closest to the wall. Sister Agatha looked up at the relatively low branch that extended above the wall.
“Nice try, but dogs don’t climb trees,” Sister Bernarda said, laughing.
“Let’s see if it
could
be done. When I was a child I saw movies where dogs did some amazing things,” Sister Agatha reached up and grabbed a limb, pulling herself up slowly until she was standing on a stout branch six feet up, holding herself steady by grabbing the branch above her head.
“I think you’re wasting your time—and likely to fall,” she said suddenly, concerned by the height Sister Agatha had reached.
“Let’s see what happens. Rex, come!” Sister Agatha called to the dog, who’d been watching her curiously.
To their amazement, the dog leaped up to a fork in the tree about five feet off the ground, then walked up the same limb Sister Agatha was standing on. As she moved forward, the branch started to droop toward the wall.
“Look, I could walk all the way over to the wall, and I bet he could too,” Sister Agatha said.
“Okay. Now get off there before that branch breaks, and the order has to spend a fortune on duct tape to put both of you back together.”
“One more minute.”
“Even if he can do it, the fact remains that we don’t know if the dog would have thought of doing that on his own. The only way we could consider it proof is if we’d seen him doing it
before
now.”
“But this method would explain why he couldn’t get back out once he was in,” Sister Agatha said slowly.
Sister Bernarda called Rex, who climbed back down easily. For Sister Agatha getting out of the tree was more difficult. Her long, heavy habit kept catching in the branches and tangling about her feet. Finally, she was back on the ground.
“If we rule out the tree, or someone using a ladder to come and go, then rubbing out their tracks,
Similar Books
