The little boy walked down the road with a stick over his shoulder. Tied to the stick he had a red and white bandanna. Beside the boy walked Homer, the dog. I knew the name of the dog because the boy called his name out loud as the dog tried to jump over a fence to reach a few chickens and a cat. A lady came to the screen door and called "Cha Cha, c'mere right this minute." Of course, ChaCha didn't come that minute. ChaCha decided to crawl under the house.
The boy pulled his dog's collar. They began walking again. They hadn't walked long because the boy's jeans weren't dusty. His face was still clean except for a little purple jelly. Plus, he wasn't tired. He was walking too fast. I thought about the first time for me. The first time I ran away from home. I had a stick with a bandanna on it too. My bandanna was navy blue and white. Inside that big hankie were biscuits, fried chicken and a piece of apple pie baked by my grandma. I got a mile or two from home. At that point I decided it was time to eat what was smelling so good in my handmade knapsack. I ate all of it. Fell asleep. Then, trotted back home before it got so dark I would see the ghost that lived under the bridge. This little guy had one thing I didn't have at the time. He had a dog. I suppose with a Rover walking beside me, well, maybe I would have walked close to five miles. Then, headed back home. I believe Rover would start pulling at the boy's pants before long making him turn around and go back home. Even dogs liked clean sheets and goodnight pat from mom and dad.
