It’s an odd-looking stone whistle. I have no memory of where I got it. Did I buy it? Did I find it? Did Martine find it and leave it on the desk in my library? (I never asked her.)

The oddest thing about it: The only way it sounds is if you inhale (not exhale) through what looks like the lips of the whistle creature—at the front of the above photo. The air comes from two locations, the largish hole at the rear and the smaller countersunk hole on top. The two little holes that look like eyes don’t go to deep enough to affect the sound.

I have adopted the stone whistle as a sort of good-luck charm, keeping it at my side when I’m reading. Several times a day, especially when I’m about to get up from my chair, I pick up the stone whistle and inhale. What goes through Martine’s head when I do this is anybody’s guess.

It’s just one of those meaningless little rituals that are part of my life, and of everyone’s life.