My dog Jim and the fish who spoke…

This one is pretty crazy, but you’ll just have to go along with it. Like I do.

Now that my wolf Benny has strengthened his pack, they’re providing most of the security I need.

So I’ve drained my moat and shipped the alligators off to a farm in Florida. The moat is just a stream now, and I’ve stocked it with fish. Big, little, and medium-sized.

Jim spends time down there by the water. He likes looking at the fish.

The other day he said, “There’s one guy. A gray kind of fat one with fins like wings. He hangs in the water and looks up at me. He’s speaking. But I don’t know what he’s saying.”

I went down to the stream with Jim and watched the gray one for a few minutes. He was moving his mouth.

“A thought just jumped into my head,” Jim said. “It’s Latin. He’s talking in Latin.”

I had my doubts.

“Why?”

“Because,” Jim said, “he was…a priest in another life. And now he’s a fish.”

“Sounds like that might be a step down.”

“Do you think I’m a step down from you?” Jim said.

I shook my head. We’ve had that conversation before. Many times. I always manage to come out on the losing end.

“Maybe he wants to say hello,” I said.

“He’s using a lot of words just to say hi? I don’t think so. He’s got a message. I’m beginning to catch on.”

I left Jim there and walked into town to have lunch. When I came back, Jim was waiting in my kitchen. “I figured it out,” he said. “Don’t ask me how. It’s Latin, but I put it through my translator.”

“Your what?”

“I have this…it’s part of my sense of smell. I can’t describe it to you. But I can sniff out what’s coming my way. The fish is telling me there’s a Roman ghost in the woods.”

“Come on.”

“Really. That’s what he’s saying. Some guy who’s a holdover from a long time ago.”

“Then the fish is psychotic.”

“I don’t think so. The ghost was a doctor. A healer. The fish wants me to find him.”

That was the beginning of several trips Jim and I took into the woods surrounding my cabin.