From the end of the driveway, to the lone Oak tree in the back field. Those were the boundaries given to me by my parents and I was expected to stay within that area each time I slipped on my navy rain boots to go outside and play. Given that my driveway itself was almost a quarter of a mile long, I was hardly confined yet I always went straight out back and played under the Oak tree, which was right on the boundary line. I would have had to stay closer to home if it wasn't for Max, our black German Shepherd. Before me or my sister were born, my mom walked out onto the porch after a storm had passed and was startled to see a large mangy dog covered in burrs and bug bites taking cover under the roof. They must have startled each other equally because by the time my mom ran in the house to get my dad, the stray had disappeared, leaving only a few wet paw prints. Later that week, he showed up on the porch again, my mom said he was awfully skinny and when she went out on the porch to give him some food, he didn't run away. One meal led to two, then three then all the sudden he was the bathtub happily getting washed, so happy in fact that he wouldn't stop wagging his tail which sent muddy soap suds flying through the air. Then about five years later, he was there with me resting his paws on my lap as I sat under that Oak tree. My closest neighbors were about a quarter of a mile away, so I sang Shania Twain as loud as I could while Max slept peacefully, occasionally licking my hand when I stopped singing to catch a breath.
"You've Got a Friend in Me"
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