Betty could feel the lady's heartbeat through her lap. She curled up easy and warm and looked out the window. Other dogs stick their heads out, let the wind rush into their eyes and dry out their tongues. But Betty never could understand why. When her feet were so tired and the lap so warm and sun surrounding the car.
They didn't drive very far, which was kind of a disappointment. Betty loved to lie down and stare out the windows, head or paws resting on a person. She could watch the trees without hearing every noise. She could see the birds that were too big for any sensible dog to chase after. The clouds slipped by like white sighs or puffy yawns.
The lady still held her as they got out of the car, the sound of bleating sheep close-by. Before they even reached the wooden door with the evergreen wreath, a man appeared and opened the screen. "Nope. Not ours. I watched her walk right up that street and look around. She must have heard the kids."
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