“What do you suppose this frisbee is doing here?” I sniffed. I’m not really a fetch kind of guy, but picking up a frisbee is a great way to start a game of tag, so I tested its texture with my teeth.

Once we fell in and learned to accept wet in our socks, smoke in our lungs, and not to count on kindness from strangers, it turned into a kind of freedom. Once you give in, it’s quicker to swim to shore than to walk. Though you may come out in a different place than you planned, once you shake yourself off, it’s usually only a few steps back to the trail.

She kept movie-driving with her eyes off the road and paws off the driving wheel while she stuck the Witch’s leash into the plug, and the plug into the charging hole. She checked the road quickly before looking down at the Witch again. “DOG DOO!”

“Some days great just isn’t one of the choices.” Mom’s whole body sagged as she said it, like the words made her twoteen times heavier.

I tried to imagine it, but the situation Mom was describing sounded more like the middle of a story than the end. “Then how will we get out?” I asked.

“Don’t you dare take off!” Mom hissed, hooking her frozen claws around my collar and trapping me for monster meat.

“It’s not criminal, but it’s a violation of something-or-other,” Mom said in her law-gic voice. “I wouldn’t call it il-legal. More like extra-legal.” What a relief. If the Law found us, they would probably give me a medal for being so much more legal than everyone else.

“Oh good! The horse came home after all. I knew we’d find a happy ending.”

“After they mounted a thorough search for the horse, and a respectful time had passed for grief, I bet they adopted a buffalo,” I concluded. “Hey, what’s the difference between a buffalo and a bison?”

Back when the world was free and Mom believed she could predict the future, she aimed the farthest point in our trip at Devil’s Tower in Wyoming. More than anything else, she was visiting for the punchline.

“It’s beautiful!” Mom said, still in that ooey-gooey strawberry-shortcake voice. “This must be what enchantment feels like.”

“It’s beautiful!” Mom said, still in that ooey-gooey strawberry-shortcake voice. “This must be what enchantment feels like.”

I must have been behind a rock by the time Mom came by. The next time I heard her, she was bellowing my name from farther down the trail.

The kaleidoscope of trees and moss fell into a pattern that made sense. “I’ve been here before!” I wagged.

We ran down the paved road with the shadows of branches on our heads and the smell of clouds in our noses. Ahead, on the other left, a dirt car-trail came to meet the road. Where they came together, a fan of dirty tire prints smeared the pavement, as if nature were trying to reclaim its territory. “Look! Mom! Another road, just like you said there’d be!” I ran ahead to show her the way. “And there are sticks!” Mom hurried to catch up. “Yes! I remember that log now. This is de

“I thought you said we couldn’t get lost!” I gasped. Suddenly, the mailman van felt very far away.