The dog always waited for me on the path home. Bully wasn't a brave dog, but he hated squirrels, and I'd lost part of my tail to him. No one liked him. Even the stray cats sometimes chased him off.
On this rainy day, everything changed. I had the path mapped in my brain: down the alley, through the broken fence, and the longest leap of my life.
Bully followed. He didn't see the hole.
He landed three feet down and with mud up to his chin. A pathetic howl drew humans to save him. He never chased me again.
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