When I saw the broken-down car and determined that Howard had perhaps just moments
before been fiddling with the radiator cap, my heart missed a beat. Probably
Howard was now on foot. He would be easier to trackChicoticos Mios: A Canine Quest
by Anonymous
This fictional photo essay was created as a requirement for Howard Besser's course, Information Studies 208, Development of Cultural Information Sources Using Digital Multimedia, Spring Quarter 2001, in the Department of Information Studies, UCLA. This is part three of three parts.
Part 3. Blue (Click on images to see larger versions)
I began my search for Howard with a renewed sense of purpose. My nose led me
to parts of the city Howard apparently had been while I was cruising in the
little yellow go-cart.
When I saw the broken-down car and determined that Howard had perhaps just moments
before been fiddling with the radiator cap, my heart missed a beat. Probably
Howard was now on foot. He would be easier to track
As I made my way out of a little park, I thought I saw something that might
confirm that Howard was near. 
I had to get closer to be sure that I saw what I thought I saw. 
Yes, it was a bibliobus. I guessed that this was similar to a book-mobile
(I have chased a few of those in my time). Howard was nearby. Of that my nose
was sure.
I searched the faces in the crowd and kept my nose on high alert. 
Just as I was starting to tire, I found myself nose to knee with Howard. 
His grin fell from his face when he saw me, but I told him all about how I was
on a quest -- and a quest it had become -- and of course he understood why I
hadn't been able to stop and chat earlier. He introduced the two young women
he was with as librarians, and my ears popped to attention. I asked them if
they could help me find out what chicoticos were but, before either one
of them could speak, Howard smartly chimed in, "Jasper, that's a garlic
snack that looks like cheese-puffs." Garlic! I felt closer than ever to
finding the chicoticos. A factory baking millions of garlic puffs would
be easy for me to locate. As I turned my nose up and sniffed thoughtfully, Howard
asked if he could join me in the final leg of my journey -- he'd been searching
for the snacks himself the day before but had had no luck. He said he'd written
about his search in his Cuba
diary. I stopped him from going on about the diary and motioned for him
to come along. The librarians had to go back to work, so we said goodbye.
Howard stopped short when he saw where my nose was telling me to go. 
But we bravely entered the hole in the street and found ourselves in a huge
cavern. 
We walked, climbed, and crawled through the cave for what seemed like miles
before I could pick up the scent of garlic again. A few times I nipped at Howard's
ankles to get him to move along more quickly -- under these stressful conditions
my cattle dog instincts just got the better of me. Finally, we felt a draft
and moved toward its source. I put my head through a small hole, smelled garlic,
and saw the sky. 
I first and then Howard climbed out of the cave and found that we had reached
our destination. 
We were both sure it was a chicoticos factory and we jumped and danced
for joy when we saw a worker just finishing loading up a truck full of the precious
treats. 
Howard took a bag from the truck, ripped it open, and gave me one of the treats. I crunched the garlic snack in my mouth and Howard did the same. We both smiled and Howard bent over and patted my head. He knows I hate that. It was Berkeley all over again. But that's another story.
The End