Kevin Rooney, world famous Alaskan explorer, goes down the rows of dogs looking for just the right one to lead his sled dog team. It has to be just the right dog for the job. It needs to be agile and swift with powerful legs. It needs to be strong enough to pull tremendous loads over tons and tons of snow and ice and it will have to be able to endure sub-zero weather conditions. It will have to be a great leader among dogs so I will need to make my choice carefully and wisely.

"Earth to Kevin Rooney," Jake's taunting, mocking face was only a couple of inches away from mine as he laughed at me, "You're daydreaming again, Kevin, or maybe you don't want a dog."

I looked around me. I was at the dog pound with Mom, Jake and Amy. I had had such a great time with Jason at the treehouse this morning that I almost hadn't wanted to leave our fun and come and pick out a dog for us. Actually, I couldn't wait to come and pick out a dog, hopefully I'd find one just like George. I needed a dog like him to pal around with. A dog was always there when you needed a friend.

I had never seen so many dogs in my life. There were little dogs, big dogs, shaggy dogs and short-haired dogs. Dogs with spots and dogs with black hair and white hair. Some of the dogs were happy to see us and some of the looked suspiciously at us as we walked past the pens they were kept in.

The dog pound was noisy and awful-smelling. I felt sorry for the dogs. This place looked like a prison for animals. We came to one pen where a dog was laying on the floor nursing her puppies. One puppy had been pushed away and was sitting in the corner by itself. It was smaller and weaker than the other puppies and I felt sorry for it. I knew how it felt. I was the newest and smallest kid in my class at school. The bigger boys were always pushing me around and the other kids were always laughing at me.

"How about that one?" I asked Mom. She stopped next to me and looked at the little puppy I was pointing to.

Mom looked doubtful, "I don't think so, Kevin. It looks a little sickly, I think it needs to be with it's mother right now."

Amy was busy looking at the cat cages and Mom, Jake and I continued looking at dogs.

"Now that would be a good guard dog for our yard," Jake said as he pointed at a stockey, short-haired brown dog that barked viciously at us. It would stop barking every now and then and growl at us, showing us it's teeth with a snarl.

"I don't think so," Mom rushed us nervously past the pen.

"Oh, I love them all," We could hear Amy's voice coming from the direction of the cat cages. Mom groaned.

Standing in the next pen was a golden, short-haired puppy. It leaped at me when it saw us and tried to lick my hand through the links of the dogpen gate. The puppy was a cream color and had a white streak on it's forehead.

"That dog just came in yesterday," said one of the assistants who had just come up to help us, "It's real friendly."

"Can you bring it out so that we can see it?" asked Mom.

The man unlatched the pen's gate and it bounded out of the pen, almost knocking me over with it's sudden burst of energy.

"That puppy's about six months old," said the man, "She's a female and I have a feeling that she's going to be a big dog some day. Look at her feet."

Mom, Jake and I looked down at the puppy's enormous paws. The dog licked my hand as I pet it's head. My hand slid down it's back and I felt the soft, golden hair on it's sides. I could feel it's rib cage.

"Mom, I want this dog," I stated firmly.

Jake knelt down and looked at the puppy as it was licking me. The dog turned and put it's front legs on him.

"Hello, girl," He said to it, "Do you want to go home with us?"

"Are you sure, Kevin?" Mom asked, "We haven't seen all the dogs here yet."

"I'm sure," I said firmly. This dog needed me and I needed it. Jake agreed with me also as we pet it together.

Amy came over to Mom and said, "Oh, Mom, you've got to see these kittens, they're so cute. They'll be good at catching the mice and we definitely need some cats."

We ended up leaving the dog pound with two kittens and Goldie. That's what I named our new dog. Mom said that the dog would be Jake's and my responsibility and the cats would be Amy's. One of the kittens was white and Amy named it Fluffy. The other was black and had white markings on it's face and feet so Amy named it BW for black and white.

I couldn't wait to show Jason and George our new dog. As soon as I got home I called up Jason and he brought George over. The two dogs were suspicious of each other for a while but before long they were busy sniffing each other and then playing like they had known each other for a long time.

"Do you think that Goldie and George could be related?" Jason asked as he sat in the tire swing, watching the two dogs playing. Goldie and George were exactly the same golden color, only Goldie had white markings on her forehead and stomach. The two looked like they could be brother and sister as they played tag under the front deck. One of the dogs would chase the other and go under the desk and come out the other side while the other dog waited to chase it. Sometimes the dog would change directions under the deck and come out the other side it had gone into and surprise the other dog, then it would be chased around the yard or the house until they both dropped next to the water bowl and lap greedily at the cold water.

"It's possible," I said as I watched the dog's antics. I walked over and pet Goldie. George came over and I had to pet him too, "They sure are a lot alike, aren't they? Do you want to play in the treehouse?"

We walked with the dogs to the treehouse and played all afternoon, pretending that the dogs were bloodhounds sent by the enemy to track us down.

Mom said that that would be enough animals. At least she thought it would be until about two months later when Dad and I were going to a job site. Dad had designed a building that he and I were going to look at.

A little white dog darted in front of our truck and Dad slammed on his brakes. Horrified, we felt the wheels of the truck go over it's body.

Anxiously, I looked at the road behind us, searching for the small, white body. There it was, laying lifeless on the road.

Dad pulled the truck over to the side of the road and we got out.

"Poor thing," I said sadly, looking at the still body of the dog. It's long, curly white hair lifted in the breeze.

Dad sighed sadly and looked at the dog for any sign of life. There was none, "I guess this little guy just ran out of luck. Let's move it off the road."

Dad lifted it's limp head and shoulders while I lifted it's hind legs. We gently set the little dog on the roadside. I felt bad leaving the dog but Dad said we couldn't do anything for it.

What a way to start the day! I felt bad the rest of the way to our destination. Dad did his job and we had lunch. Then, we headed back home.

When the truck had reached the familiar area where the dog had been hit, I started looking for the small, white body on the side of the road.

"It should be just up here on the left," Dad was looking too.

It wasn't there!

"That's strange," Dad slowed the truck down, searching along the side of the road, "I know it was along here somewhere."

My dismay turned to joy when our truck had gone a little further and I saw the little dog limping slowly next to the road with one paw raised.

"I see it!" I shouted excitedly, "Stop, Dad, stop the truck!"

Dad pulled the truck over to the side of the road and we raced over to the dog.

"I could have sworn it was dead," Dad scratched his head in amazement.

I stroked the long hair of the little dog. It sat and looked at me with huge, brown eyes that were half-closed with pain. It slowly dropped it's mouth and gave my hand a lick.

"We can't just leave it here," I turned to Dad, "We've got to help the poor thing."

Dad said, "Well, let's see if it belongs to any of these houses.

We were a couple of miles outside of town on a road that was only used for local traffic. There were scattered houses along this portion of the road. I could see two houses and a business across the road from us. The rest of the land around us was farmland.

There was no one home in the houses. Only the business office could help us. A lady who worked there knew the owners of the dog. Dad gave her our phone number and told her the name of the veterinarian he was taking the dog to. She said she'd make sure the owner got the message.

The dog's head lay on my lap and I stroked it's soft fur gently, as we headed toward town in the truck, "It's going to be allright," I whispered in it's ear. I said a silent prayer.

We took the dog to our veterinarian, Dr. Strong. He checked it out and said that it appeared to be just dazed and bruised. He told us to leave it overnight and he would let us know tomorrow if there was anything seriously wrong with the dog.

Dad told Dr. Strong that if the owners weren't able to pay the vet bill then he would pay it since he felt responsible.

I worried about the dog all night. It was such a sweet little thing. Why couldn't people take better care of their pets?

I called Dr. Strong the next day. He said the dog was fine and that the owners had already come and picked up the animal. They had left the bill for Dad to pay.

I wasn't sure if I should be happy or not. I had grown attached to the little dog in ony a few hours. I was happy that it was allright but I hated to see it go back to the same people who hadn't taken very good care of it

A week passed and Dad got a call one morning from the lady who owned the dog. She told him that the dog kept going into the road would probably get hit by another car. She said that if he wanted it then he could come and get it, otherwise she'd have to take the dog to the pound.

We were in school when Dad called Mom and told her to get the dog if she wanted it. Mom drove down that afternoon to the address that Dad had given her.

There were two white dogs running around behind the business and the houses. One was small, had big, round eyes like a chihuahua and had short hair. The other was larger and had long, wavy hair that covered it's eyes like a sheep dog only smaller.

Which one is it? Mom wondered to herself. Dad had ony told her that the dog he had hit was white. She tried to get close to the dogs but each time she did get close enough to look at them, they would playfully run from her.

Mom went to the business office and asked the secretary about the dogs.

The lady told Mom the dogs were both females and she wasn't sure which one was the one that had been hit by the truck. She did tell Mom that the owner would be getting rid of the dogs if they weren't both taken away by someone.

That did it. Mom and the lady managed to gather the two lively dogs and put them in her car. She took the dogs home where she let them out to explore their new home.

Goldie had been living with us for a couple of months by now and had gotten used to being our only dog. Already she had become huge and when she saw the two small dogs she looked down at them like we had just delivered a snack to her.

The two little dogs took one look at Goldie's enormous size and ran under the car.

Mom picked us up after school as usual and told us about our two new pets.

This was wonderful news! I practically leapt out of my seat in the car! I couldn't wait to get home to see my old friend.

The two little white dogs were playing with Goldie when we got home. It seemed that the three dogs had already become good friends

"Hi there," I said as the two little dogs cam running up to us. I stroked the familiar white hair of the dog that Dad and I had found. She looked happy and healthy, you'd never know she'd been hurt at all. The other dog came under my arm and soon I had two dogs under my arms. This was great!

Mom watched with a smile on her face, "The dogs will need names."

Amy wanted to call the smaller one Amanda but Mom said there was no way she was going to call a dog Amanda. She said we could call it Mandy if we wanted to. That sounded fine to us.

"Kevin," Mom said to me, "You can name the other one."

I looked at the shaggy, white body of the dog I had rescued. The big eyes looked at me under the hair that covered it's face, "Mutt, I'm going to call her Mutt, because that's what she looks like--a loveable mutt."

Mom got out her camcorder and took pictures of Mutt and Mandy licking Amy and I while we lay on the ground laughing.

Mom told Dad later on that day when he had gotten home from work that she had ended up taking both the dogs because the only description Dad had given her was that it was white. Mom said that she wasn't sure which one was the one that had been hit by our truck.

Dad went outside with her and they looked at the two dogs that were busy playing with me.

"Did you check the one that had tire tracks on it's back?" He asked.

Mom looked on the larger dog's back and saw a long, wide, smudge on it's back, it was slowly fading but you could still see the mark of the truck's wheel.

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