"Skunk finally got ya, eh boy?" Zack spoke sympathetically as the dog, fawning, came closer.
"Stay away, Robbie, stay away now!" he ordered the dog. Robbie whined and scratched again, furiously. Zack sniffed cautiously, expecting any moment the pungent smell of skunk fluid to hit his nostrils. He sensed nothing but the clean, fresh smell of the morning air, so he leaned closer. Within a foot of Robbie, he sniffed again. Nothing. He realized it wasn't a skunk that caused Robbie's eyes to burn. He knelt down and took the dog's head tenderly in his rough, calloused hands and examined his eyes. They were bloodshot and watery. He took some water from the well and dashed it into the dog's eyes as Robbie struggled.
"Hold still, boy, I'm trying to help ya," Zack soothed. He took out a blue work bandanna and wiped tenderly around Robbie's eyes.
"What did it, boy? How did it happen?" Zack asked. Robbie merely whined.
"What's wrong with him?" Mrs. Stewart, broom in hand, asked from the doorway.
"Don't rightly know," Zack patted the dog, "acts like he got something in his eyes."
"Skunk?"
"Naw," Zack shook his head. "He don't smell. Something else."
"Cat?"
"No scratches, either. He acts like they're burnin' him, like he got dust or somethin' in 'em."