murakami, haruki - Norwegian wood

in trucks and take 'em down to the barn. The only time they let 'em
graze is the summer, when they open a little café kind of thing for the
tourists. The "tourists'! Maybe 20 hikers in a day. Hey, how about
something to drink?"
"Good idea," I said.
The dog led the way to the café, a small, white house with a front
porch and a faded sign in the shape of a coffee cup hanging from the
eaves. He led us up the steps and stretched out on the porch,
narrowing his eyes. When we took our places around a table on the
porch, a girl with a ponytail and wearing a sweatshirt and white jeans
came out and greeted Reiko and Naoko like old friends.
"This is a friend of Naoko's," said Reiko, introducing me. "Hi," she
said.
"Hi," I answered.
While the three women traded small talk, I stroked the neck of the dog
under the table. It had the hard, stringy neck of an old dog. When I
scratched the lumpy spots, the dog closed his eyes and sighed with
pleasure.
"What's his name?" I asked the girl.
"Pepé," she said.
"Hey, Pepé," I said to the dog, but he didn't budge.
"He's hard of hearing," said the girl. "You have to speak up or he can't
hear."
"Pepé!" I shouted. The dog opened his eyes and snapped to attention
with a bark.
"Never mind, Pepé," said the girl. "Sleep more and live longer." Pepé
flopped down again at my feet.
Naoko and Reiko ordered cold glasses of milk and I asked for a beer.
"Let's hear the radio," said Reiko. The girl switched on an amplifier
and tuned into an FM station. Blood, Sweat and Tears came on with
"Spinning Wheel".
Reiko looked pleased. "Now this is what we're here for! We don't have
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