There is a big silence all around the farm.
It is hard to believe, like so many terrible true things. But Wendell, aka Mr. Jingles, died on Thursday. In spite of being a monumental pest he was one of the farmer's very best friends, always in staunch agreement with the farmer's opinions and dying to hear more of them. Had there ever been such fascinating opinions, so eloquently expressed, so novel, so enlightening, so right in so many ways? Had there ever been such a magnificent farmer, driver of such a magnificent farm truck, the magic carpet ride to hayfields and feed stores and drive-through windows where the little dog sandwiches come out in crinkly paper for the shotgun rider? That Crinkly Paper! Had there ever been a better life than he had, king of his domain, fearless cow herder, matchless baby goat nanny, incorrigible thief, the best bad dog in the world?
