These days, bushes crowded in too close for a car to squeeze through and roots had chewed up most of the pavement, but you could still smell the rusty skeletons of old wrecks buried in the bushes like a forgotten bone. The ghosts blew in with the morning fog and swirled featherlike through the brush until the sun shined them away around lunch time. 

Donuts are like cheese sticks for Mom. When it takes extra bravery to get home without killing any strangers, Mom rewards herself with a donut. “But they weren’t in the basket where they usually are, and the whole bakery case was locked.” I didn’t like where this story was going. You don’t get between Mom and pastries.

With everyone trapped at home, the world would need a protector to keep an eye on things to herd everyone back together when it was safe to come out again. That hero would need a sidekick. A referee who knew how to twist silly rules until they made sense again and wield Murphy’s Law to make impossible things happen, like bringing rain to the desert. The fate of the world rested on its globe-trotting hero, Tintin Quarantino and his faithful referee-sidekick, the Weather Jinx.

“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?”

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?

“The part where you don’t know how it’s going to end is the funnest part of any story,” I agreed. 

The crowd went silent as everyone held their breath. The only noise on the farm was the chicka-chicka-chick of maracas. The squiggle snarled

The crowd went silent as everyone held their breath. The only noise on the farm was the chicka-chicka-chick of maracas. The squiggle snarled

Questions like that are how Mom cheats at arguments. She knows that dogs can't tell the future like she can.

Questions like that are how Mom cheats at arguments. She knows that dogs can't tell the future like she can.

Pots clattered as she dug through the kitchen, searching for I-knew-not-what. She grunted triumphantly and pulled out the knife.

Pots clattered as she dug through the kitchen, searching for I-knew-not-what. She grunted triumphantly and pulled out the knife.

Screams filled the inside of the mailman van as the ghosts of all the dogless families he'd eaten rattled the bars.

"Oh my dog! It's the shoopacabra!" I barked. "Let's get him!" I leaned hard into the leash and ordered him to run.

"Oh my dog! It's the shoopacabra!" I barked. "Let's get him!" I leaned hard into the leash and ordered him to run.

I couldn't tell if it was nature or civilization calling her back, just that Mom was accepting the call.

I couldn't tell if it was nature or civilization calling her back, just that Mom was accepting the call.

If you try to make everything look like the plan, then you're going to miss a lot and spend the whole adventure being frustrated.

Not to brag or anything, but we've been working really, really hard to tell the best version of my story that we possibly can.