Why was he acting like this?
And what was his name?
Why couldn’t I remember his name?
Running hard, the big dog barked a warning, its tail wagging furiously. It caught up to me easily. And then it jumped in front of me.
I stumbled over it.
It leaped up, panting hard, pushing its paws against my waist.
I screamed at him, “Go home! Please—down! Get down!”
Then I realized the dog only wanted to play.
“Not now. Please—not now.” I grabbed its front paws and lowered them to the pavement. I petted the dog’s head.
Why couldn’t I remember its name?
“Not now, boy. Go home!”
I started running again, the dog yapping at my heels. I had the sudden hope that my parents’ car would be in the driveway. Please, I thought, be there.
Be home to help me. Maybe the three of us working together can do something to help Peter.
But… no car.