One particularly cold Saturday in January, I was supposed to take our dog out for a walk, but it was so cold that I didn't want to go outside. Instead, I just opened the door and let the dog out by himself. I kept an eye on him to make sure he would come back inside.
However, another neighborhood dog quickly ran past our house, and our dog sped after to catch him. I hurriedly went to grab my coat so I could follow my dog, and then I rushed outside. Unfortunately, I was already too late, and my dog was nowhere in sight. I walked a few blocks, but I was unable to find him.
Depressed, I returned home. My mother was standing at the door waiting, and she asked me what had happened. "I know I was supposed to walk our dog," I admitted, "but I though the would be able to go outside and come back by himself. Now he's gone and I can't find him anywhere."
My mother was very angry with me; she said I should have been more responsible. She decided to help by making some signs. The signs read, "Lost: A big black dog. Please call us right away" and she printed our phone number on the bottom. "Okay, Darrell," she said, as she handed over those signs, "now go post these on all the street posts."
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I grabbed the signs and rushed out.
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When I returned, my mother was waiting for me, smiling broadly.
