“They’re outlawing friendship?” I whimpered. I would never be able to hide my friendliness for long enough to stay out of trouble. “They can’t really send you to the pound for charisma, can they?”

“If you can pick your problems,” I coached, “maybe you shouldn’t see wet socks as a problem at all. You would have less to worry about if dry socks weren’t something that you expected from life.”

“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.” 

“No, Mom! This is awesome!” I corrected her. “It’s better than awesome. It’s… There’s no word for how awesome it is in your language.” So I barked the word in my language and did a cartwheel followed by a sprint to show her what it meant. 

As my ears roamed juice boxes, my eyes stayed stuck to the door where Mom had disappeared. Every time the door opened, instead of Mom, a bandit or a veterinarian came out carrying big bags of loot.

She placed the paper ceremonially on the front windowsill and tapped it a couple of times to prove it was there on purpose. “Think of it as double-paying in protest.”  “That’ll show ’em.” 

The Law paused to check out the Wagon’s butt. He clutched at a big button on his breast, tucked his chin, and whispered into it. It let out a squawk. 

“It’s the treasure that sparkles, not the treasure hunter,” I reminded her. “Why don’t you wear the sparkly clothes for a change?” “Don’t be silly,” Mom said. “You’re the star of the show.” I couldn’t argue with that.

Mom almost never runs with a water bottle, especially in a race, when people volunteer to serve her. Perhaps I should have insisted that she drink out of the puddle. 

Mom’s shoe reached under the table and hooked the loop. I clamped my butt to the floor and braced all four legs. The leash pulled taut and my collar dug into my neck. 

“You sure are lucky you’re leaving the City when you are. It’s coming…” She paused for a meaningful look and her eyes added, You know what I’m talking about and how monstrous it is. 

“I have a surprise for you,” Mom said. I lifted my head and cocked my ears, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at the Witch.

“I have a surprise for you,” Mom said. I lifted my head and cocked my ears, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at the Witch.

It didn’t really matter where the Wagon was, as long as I was inside it with Mom. But what happens when your home goes back home?

It didn’t really matter where the Wagon was, as long as I was inside it with Mom. But what happens when your home goes back home?

“I guess I should introduce myself to all these disappointed people so they don’t feel like they drove so far from the Starbucks for nothing

“Maybe a prince will come knocking on every wagon door in Oregon searching for the freakishly small foot that fits,” I told her.