Charlie clipped the red leash to Finn's collar.
"We're walking around the block," Charlie told Mom. "Just one block. That's all."
Finn wagged his tail so hard his whole body wiggled.
Click went the door.
And they were off.
Charlie walked nice and straight down the sidewalk. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot.
Finn did NOT walk nice and straight.
Finn walked in zigzags. Finn walked in circles. Finn sniffed every single mailbox like it was telling him a secret.
"Come ON, Finn," said Charlie.
They made it to the corner. Almost one whole side of the block done. Easy!
Then Finn's nose went up.
His ears went up.
His tail went STRAIGHT up like a furry antenna.
And Finn PULLED.
"FINN! FINN, NO! FINN, WAIT—"
But Finn did not wait. Finn had smelled something. And when Finn smelled something, Finn was a rocket. A furry, four-legged, tongue-flapping rocket.
Charlie held on tight. Charlie's shoes went skid-skid-skid on the sidewalk.
They blew past Mrs. Kim's house. They blew past the big oak tree. They blew past the corner they were supposed to turn at.
"THAT WAS OUR TURN!" Charlie yelled.
Finn did not care about the turn.
Skid-skid-skid went Charlie's shoes.
They flew through the park gates. They zoomed past the swings. They zipped around the pond where the ducks quacked and scattered like someone had yelled "BOO!"
"Sorry, ducks!" Charlie called back.
Finn pulled harder. Down the hill on the other side of the park. Through the open gate of a garden Charlie had never even seen before.
And then—Finn stopped.
Charlie bumped right into Finn and sat down hard in the grass.
"Oof!"
Finn didn't notice. Finn was licking the face of a very old, very small dog lying in a sunny patch of clover. The old dog's tail gave one slow, happy wag.
A woman in a big straw hat looked up from her flowers.
"Well, hello there," she said. "That must be Finn."
Charlie blinked. "You know Finn?"
"Oh, this is Biscuit," the woman said, scratching the old dog's ears. "Finn and Biscuit were best friends at the shelter. Before you adopted Finn. Before I adopted Biscuit."
Charlie looked at Finn. Finn was lying down now, nose to nose with Biscuit. Their tails wagged at the exact same speed. Slow and soft. Like two clocks ticking together.
"He ran the whole way here," Charlie said.
"Biscuit's been sleeping in this spot every morning," the woman said. "I bet Finn caught the smell on the wind."
Charlie sat in the clover next to the two dogs. The garden was full of tomatoes and sunflowers, and it smelled like warm dirt and something sweet. A butterfly landed on Finn's head. Finn didn't even move. He just kept his nose next to Biscuit's nose.
Charlie had never seen Finn so still.
The red leash lay loose and curly in the grass like a ribbon that didn't need to be tight anymore.
"I was supposed to walk around the block," Charlie said.
The woman laughed. "Looks like Finn had a different block in mind."
Charlie's shoes were scuffed. Charlie's knees were green. Charlie's arm was kind of sore from all that pulling.
But right here, in this garden Charlie never knew about, with two old friends lying nose to nose in the clover—Charlie didn't mind one bit.
"Same time tomorrow, Biscuit?" Charlie said.
Biscuit's tail went wag, wag, wag.
And Finn's tail went wag, wag, wag right along with it.
