Prissy came to us as a puppy, a little black Pekinese mix with the cutest face. As cute as she was, Prissy had one major flaw ——she couldn’t even find her way home from the mailbox.

We spent half our time hunting for that dog. We live in a rural community of northwest Georgia ——mostly woods and a small lake. She loved that lake, and spent most days patrolling the water’s edge for frogs.

Prissy didn’t always stay by the lake, though. She liked to explore. Consequently, it became an almost weekly ritual to look for her. We rescued her from a boot camp for troubled teens, a neighbor’s house six miles away, and even once from fifty feet up an oak tree.

Prissy was smart but she never paid attention to where she was going. She would just put her nose to the ground and start following a squirrel, rabbit or stray cat. When she finished her mission she would have no idea how she got wherever she ended up.

After a while, most of our closer neighbors knew her. Consequently, she never really “had” to find her way home because she would just go to the nearest front door and cry and whine until they let her in. They’d call, and we’d drive over and get her. If we weren’t home, they would just load her in their car and bring her home.

However, one time when she wandered off, no calls came in.

She had been missing for about fourteen hours, and none of our neighbors had seen her, so we decided to search by car. We drove up and down the surrounding roads calling out to her, driving slowly and checking house to house. After driving several miles in the surrounding area, we became discouraged and decided to head home to regroup and figure out what to do next.

Then, I caught a glimpse of something black in the road up ahead.

Relieved and overjoyed to have found her, we scooped Prissy up into our arms, showering her with affection.

The year has begun with an accident. On my way to school this morning I was repeating to my father the words of our teacher, when we noticed that the street was full of people, who were pressing close to the door of the schoolhouse. Suddenly my father said:

“An accident! The year is beginning badly!”

We passed through with some difficulty. The big hall was crowded with parents and children, whom the teachers had not succeeded in placing in the classrooms, and all were turning towards the principal’s room and we heard the words, “Poor boy! Poor Robetti!”

My father inquired of a teacher, “What has happened?” A few minutes later, we calculated that the boy belonging to the second class, who, on his way to school through the Dora Grossa street, seeing a little child of the lowest class, who had run away from its mother, fall down in the middle of the street, a few paces from an omnibus which was bearing down upon it, had hastened down forward boldly, caught up the child, and placed it in safety; but, as he had not withdrawn his own foot quickly enough, the wheel of the omnibus had passed over it.

I worked day and night as a taxi driver, and I always dreamed of owning my own taxi company. One night, I took an order at 11:00 pm. When I arrived at the building, it was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. In this situation, many drivers would just wait for a while and then left.

But I had seen too many people who depended on taxis as their means of transportation. I thought this passenger might be someone who needed my help. So I walked into the building and knocked at the door.

“Just a minute,” answered an elderly voice. I could hear something being pulled across the floor. After a long time, the door opened. A small woman in her 70s stood before me. She was wearing a traditional dress and an old hat, like somebody out of a movie in the 1940s. By her side was a small suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. I found nobody else. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos.

I helped take her suitcase out to the taxi, and then returned to help the elderly woman. She seemed a little weak and took my arm. We walked slowly towards the taxi. The elderly woman kept thanking me for my kindness. I told her, “It’s nothing. I just try to treat my passengers the way I want my mother to be treated.” She said I was the best man she had ever seen in the world. And she gave me an address, and then asked, “Could you drive me to the hospital?” I answered quickly, “OK!” She told me that she was ill and needed to stay in hospital for several days, but her sons were in other provinces and couldn’t get home in time. I listened to what she said carefully and kept comforting her.

When we got to the hospital, I went to the emergency room with her. After half an hour, she was admitted into the hospital room. At midnight, I rushed home and completely forgot the taxi fare.

The next day, I got a call from the elderly woman.

A month later, the elderly woman and her sons came to visit me.

Mary tried to hold her breath. She moved away slightly, but Amy only moved closer and continued talking.

Mary thought to herself, “Why does she always have to sit next to me?” Amy didn’t seem to notice that Mary was trying to move away, and she leaned in closer. Mary wanted badly to tell Amy that she didn’t smell very good, but how could she without hurting her feelings?

When Mary got home from school, she complained to her mother. “There’s a girl named Amy who likes to sit next to me in school, but she smells bad. Nobody else likes to sit next to her, either.”

“Well, try to be nice to her,” said her mother. “Maybe she’s having a hard time at home. You never know what a person’s home life is like.”

For the rest of the week, Mary tried to be a good friend to Amy. There were times when they had fun talking and playing together, especially on the days when Amy bathed. But on the days when she smelled bad, Mary still found it very hard to be her friend.

One morning, while getting her hair combed for school, Mary brought the subject up again with her mother.

“I don’t want to be friends with Amy anymore,” she told her mother.

Her mother’s hands froze in midair. Mary turned to see what the matter was. Her mother looked upset. Mary wondered what she had said made her mother react this way.

“I don’t think you understand Amy’s situation, so let me ask you this…” Her mother’s tone was serious. “Who makes sure that your hair is combed every morning so you’ll look nice when you go to school? Who makes sure you’re bathed and cleaned every day? And your clothes are washed and neatly ironed?”

“You and Daddy,” answered Mary.

“Do you live in a happy family? Do you have a good Dad and Mum?” Then her mother encouraged her to learn more about Amy before she decided whether or not to be friends with Amy.

The next day after school, Mary had a talk with Amy.

Sadness or Amy filled her heart and Mary decided to make friends with Amy.

Devon became the man of the house since his father passed away last year, but tonight he was a twelve-year old boy who wanted a puppy for his birthday, and his birthday was tomorrow.

“They say every boy should have a dog of his own, don’t you agree?”

I sighed, knowing what my answer would have to be. “I would love to get you a puppy, but puppies are expensive. They need food and shots and a license. We just can’t afford all that right now, honey.” I lowered my head so he wouldn’t see my tears.

He stood there for a moment. “That’s okay, Mom. I understand,” he whispered. “But some day, when things get better, can we get a puppy?” “Of course, Devon, I promise.” I forced myself to smile.

“When we get a puppy, I am going to name him Rusty.”

“Rusty? That’s a fine name.”

The next morning, I gathered our recyclable bottles and cans which were worth five cents each. We drove to the nearby convenience store and sold them at a nearby store. Then we chose the two most delicious donuts with the money.

Devon grabbed the donut and took a huge bite. On the front sidewalk, he stopped so suddenly that I almost ran into him.

A puppy caught his eye. A young woman was parked just outside the door. Her face was wet with tears. The puppy curled up (蜷缩) in her lap with his nose resting on the driver’s door.

Devon rushed over to the car and giggled (咯咯笑) as he fed the rest of his donut to the puppy and was thanked with a wet puppy lick across the face.

Then I turned to the woman: “What’s wrong?”

The woman dried her face before answering.

“Really?” Devon took a deep breath and turned to me.