“For the love of Dog, let me go!” I squirmed. “Hold still.” She squeezed me tighter. “I might drop you if I lose my balance.” 

Dogs don’t take pictures, but Mom had tried to explain it before. “Doesn’t a photo capture exactly what the world looks like?” I asked, showing her my bored look in profile. “Instead of taking a hunerd pictures, you could just take one and look at it for longer.” 

“Do you know where canyons come from?” Mom asked, cheating as usual. Whenever she gets stuck, she uses science to invent some improbable story because she knows a dog can’t argue with science. This time, she didn’t even wait for me to guess. “Rivers dig canyons over millions of years.”

“Can’t the Witch call for help or something?” I asked. “You think there’s going to be cell service all the way out there?” Mom challenged. “We just left the only town big enough for a stop sign for 100 miles in any direction.”