Animal Stomach

I have an idea hanging from my head. It's been out there for ages. Everything suggests it's a bad idea.

My father handled unexpected problems much better—like the day he kicked down the olive trees. He had one hundred olive trees, one hundred years old, as he liked to put it, with a fondness for large numbers that speak of prosperity and abundance. Once, however, when I arrived from my travels, he started digging the soil with the tip of his boot, like a detective, and, next to a dried furrow, he discovered a hole in the ground and called for the dog.