[b]Cyrus's Bus, Ashlands[/b] Dog was a good dog, and she was teaching Jimmy how to be a good dog, too: He could chew through tough meat, howl like a wolf, and even burry his own poo in the bushes, when he had to. When birds came by to try and steal their food, he barked at them. When squirrels came, he chased them all the way over to Dog's hiding spot. He liked being wild- doing what he wanted, and staying up late, and nobody making him brush his teeth. Dog was teaching him a lot about being a good Dog. But he was starting to understand, or at least as much as a four-year-old could understand, that he was not becoming a good boy. He was forgetting his numbers, his recitations, and sometimes, when he was laying down to bed, he could not remember what Mommy's voice sounded like. Mommy. Dog was not a bad dog, but she was not Mommy. She did not know any of the songs that Mommy sang at night, and when he fell down, Dog did not know how to kiss it better right. The food she brought was tough to bite, and the plants tasted funny: She did not boil them or grind them down with water to make into "Repas." They ate a lot of peanut butter, when they found it, but that was not Mommy-cooked food. That was "Elli is here with you while Mommy is busy please listen to him" food. Jimmy held on to Dog, his little fists clutching her shirt while his face was leaned against her shoulder. The morning sun was just coming up, and he was tired- They had walked all night, for a long, long time, across a very far place. He had ridden on her back for a bit, but now, too sleepy to hold on, he clung to her side. She said they were meeting her brother, and as they approached a bus, he held onto the bleary-eyed hope that her dog-brother knew someone who could drive them home to Mommy and Elli. But, as they came upon the door, he hid his face in Dog's hair. Her "brother" did not seem nice. In fact, something was quite wrong about him. [color=#92C09B]"Pssst, Doggie,"[/color] Jimmy whispered, [color=#92C09B]"Him's not a doggie."[/color]