Bailey's Story by W. Bruce Cameron Read Free Book Online Page A

changed.
    It was covered all over in a cold, white, furry coat. I paused at the back door and stared. Where had the grass gone? Where was the patio? I put a paw tentatively into the white fuzz. Cold! But Ethan was running around in it, and I wanted to be near him. So, very bravely, I jumped into the freezing stuff with all four feet.
    â€œCome on, Bailey!” Ethan shouted. “It’s snow!”
    The snow made my paws ache after a while, but it was fun to bite, and Ethan loved it so much that I decided I loved it, too. He pulled a heavy, flat wooden thing out of the garage. “Let’s go sledding, Bailey!” he said.
    I followed him, tromping through the snow and up to a hill a few blocks from our house. He dropped the flat wooden thing to the ground and flopped down on top of it. “It’s a sled, okay, Bailey? You watch, Bailey. It’s fun!”
    He pushed hard with his hands, and suddenly he shot down the hill, away from me.
    I stared in astonishment. I never knew that the boy could move like that! Instead of walking or running, stiffly upright on two legs, he was zooming close to the ground. I tore down the hill after him, barking with excitement and surprise.
    The sled slowed a bit as it got closer to the bottom of the hill, and that meant I could catch up. I timed things carefully and leaped, landing right on top of Ethan. He shouted. The sled shot ahead, skimming past the sleds of several other children who had all been doing the same thing.
    The ground flattened out and the sled skidded sideways, tumbling Ethan and me off into a thick patch of snow. “You like sledding!” Ethan gasped, laughing under me. “You’re a sled dog, Bailey!”
    I barked, and we raced up the hill to do it again.
    We went sledding a lot while the snow stayed on the ground. After a while it went away, and I learned the word “spring,” which meant the sun stayed out longer, and the air warmed up, and Mom spent weekends digging in the backyard and planting flowers. The dirt smelled so wonderful, rich and dark and full of life, that after everybody went away, I dug, too, pulling the flowers back up from their beds. I hoped Mom appreciated my help.
    That night they all called me a bad dog again, and I even had to spend the evening out in the garage instead of lying on Ethan’s feet while he worked on his papers. I didn’t understand it at all. I’d just done what Mom had been doing! What was wrong with that?
    Then one day the kids on the yellow school bus were so loud that I could hear them shrieking five minutes before the thing stopped in front of the house. The boy was full of joy as he ran up to me, so excited that I ran around and around in circles, barking as loud as I could.
    When Mom came home, she was happy, too, and from then on Ethan didn’t go to school anymore. We got to lie in bed quietly every morning, instead of getting up for breakfast with Dad. Life had finally gotten back to normal. Thank goodness that whole school thing was over and done with.

 
    8
    One warm day, Ethan and Mom and Dad loaded up the car with a lot of suitcases and boxes, and then they called to me. I hopped into the backseat with Ethan. We took a long ride, and when we were done, we were at “the farm.”
    The farm meant new animals, new people, and new smells. From the first moment I jumped out of the car after Ethan, I was very busy.
    Two older people came out of a big white house, and there was a lot of happy exclaiming while I ran around everybody’s feet. Ethan called the two new people Grandma and Grandpa. After he’d spent some time hugging them and hearing things like “You’ve grown so much !” and “So this is Bailey!” he ran off across a patch of packed-down dirt. “Come on, Bailey!” he called to me.
    He didn’t need to call; I was already racing after him.
    He took me past a split-rail fence where an enormous horse stared at me.