"There was a time when I could pick you up and feed you an acorn bushel through a tree tube, but those times are gone,“ said Chancellor Dog. "You’re getting too big for such matters, and so am I. You’ll have to learn to make a canoe on your own, from plywood and plaster, and you’ll have to make friends and be real brave about it, too.” Chancellor Dog tenderly, desperately pressed Chancellor Cop to his dog torso.
With that, the dog began to cry tears that hit the ground and immediately sprouted the last two flowers the boy and his dog would ever see together ever again, and somehow, the dying field knew it.
“Won’t we ever play ‘field girls’ again?” asked Chancellor Dog. “Or 'pin the stick to me?’”
“Oh, we will,” sobbed Chancellor Dog, avoiding Chancellor Cop’s pleading eyes, and beginning to walk down the dusty road. “When the stars mix together and make a heaven for everyone who is real.”
