1 Wild Boy

Grandma likes to go on long walks called hikes. I go along to watch out for her. Our walks may not be what you think… like when one of my dog buddies is on a leash and must stop at the street corner to wait for cars to pass.

Grandma and I walk in wild places.

Where we go, wild means where no people live. Wild means where animals like bears and cougars and rattlesnakes call home, and not in cages like at a zoo. Wild means living things in their natural home, as God made them in the beginning.

We have to be prepared for the wilderness. For an all-day adventure, Grandma packs the car with food for both of us, water, warm sweaters for her and for me. Even if it starts out a hot day, the weather can change quickly, and we can get cold. Grandma has a cool hat that she sticks a feather in. An eagle head is carved on her walking stick.

I prance around, and she fusses at me for getting in the way. But when she’s ready, she waves her arm and says, “Up!” I jump in the Trailblazer, and I’m ready to go!

Grandma drives me to the wild places. The autumn colors are fun to watch. It’s cooler now that it’s autumn, so I get to have the window down.

When we’re walking, she doesn’t always know where I am, but she’s always in my sights. With my big ears, I hear things she does not. With my big eyes, I see things she cannot. So I’m her lookout.

I’m really good at nosing into poop and dead things. I love those smells, don’t you? I roll in them to make sure every hair on my body is covered so I can take it home and remember our fun day! On the way home, I try to hang my tired head over Grandma’s arm, and she nudges me away.

“Petey, you stink!” Grandma scolds. “I’m going to write a country song about you called, ‘Don’t Come Lovin’ on Me.’ Now stay on your side!”

I love Grandma. She’s my best friend. I think I’ll keep her, even if she doesn’t like poop.