Social Issues
That's when he saw it. A shadow behind a car parked on the other side of the street. It disappeared, only to reappear through the window of the car ahead. The sight of it made him whimper, the sound catching in his throat as he took off again, running.
This time he didn't stop until he reached the walkway to his house. Home, he thought. Home safe. But with his next step his foot landed on an icy patch. His arms rose instinctively, whirling, struggling for balance. It did no good. The ground below him vanished, and he fell. Pain, red as a fireball, exploded behind his eyes. He yelped.
Behind him, the voice said, "Gotcha now."
One minute she was not there and the next she had dashed in among them, her dangling leash sailing through the air after her. Her silky coat rippled in the breeze and she had incredible ears, black and tall, shaped like butterfly wings. Her feathery tail curled up over her back one minute, streamed out behind her the next and, a second later, tucked itself out of sight between her legs.
To Dickon, that tail shouted, "I want to be friends … I'm running away … I'm afraid."
He understood the little dog completely. He, too, had felt confused and desperate.
