The line of words in my science book started to move back and forth like waves on Lake Nokomis. I shook my head to bring me back to my homework on the desk in front of me. Three questions still remained unanswered. I needed to finish. But my mind drifted to Roscoe. How could he disappear? I knew he loved me and wouldn't intentionally take off. But it was two days now. Where was he? Something must've happened to him. What if he'd been hit by a car?

"Belle!" Dad called from downstairs, interrupting my thoughts. "I need you to set the table for dinner."

Relieved, I shut my textbook and hurried downstairs. The smell of something yummy hit me. I felt suddenly hungry. Hopefully, dinner included mashed potatoes, my favorite. The kitchen light was on and a stack of plates was waiting for me on the table.

"Did you finish?" Dad looked up from the stove where he was stirring chicken and veggies in the frying pan. I could feel my tummy growl.

"Not quite, three more questions." I started to lay out the plates around the table - Dad, Mom, me, and my younger brothers Zach and Jordan. "I just keep worrying about Roscoe. Where could he possibly be?"

"He's probably just out exploring someplace. Some dogs like to wander now and then. But tomorrow, I'll check the animal shelter. If he's not there, we can put an ad in the newspaper. Dogs are smart. Roscoe knows where he gets fed."

I took out the silverware and began setting a fork and knife around each plate. "Don't forget, Dad, we found him wandering in our yard when we first took him in. I just hope someone else didn't adopt our dog."

Roscoe had arrived at our country home a couple years ago. He appeared at the end of the driveway after school one day - a short and wide dog with a mix of brown, gold and black fur. As we turned in our long driveway, he ran next to the car with his tongue out, smiling up at us. When we got out of the car, he started wagging his tail, and his whole hind end wiggled.

"Ignore him and just walk by." Dad said to me as I started to bend down and pet him. "He's too friendly to be a stray ... probably wandered away from his house. When he's hungry enough, he'll go back to his owners."

It was hard to ignore him because he followed me, wagging his tail. He was so full of hope ... until Dad closed the door in his face. After I took off my jacket, I looked out the window. He was staring at me and seemed to say, "Don't you want to play?"

We didn't see him the next morning when we headed to school. I was relieved but also a little sad. However, when we came home after school, he was right there again at the end of the driveway wagging his tail, waiting for us.

"I bet he's hungry. Can't we give him something to eat?" I asked, as Mom headed up the driveway with the dog running behind.

"Maybe we should just keep him." Zach added, looking out the window. "I've always wanted a dog."

"That wouldn't be very nice if he has a home elsewhere. His owners might be worried and out looking for him," Mom said, "Country dogs sometimes go on journeys, but he'll go back home if we leave him alone."

Another day passed, and he was still around. Only now, he was less peppy, and his eyes seemed to beg for food. Finally, Dad approached him. There was no collar, and burrs had lodged into his fur. "Poor little guy. Some jerk must have wanted to get rid of him and just left him out here in the country to fend for himself. We can't ignore him anymore. I'm going to feed him. Then we'll decide what to do."

Dad filled a bowl with bread pieces and milk and told us all to stay inside. We watched from the window as he set it on the ground near our garage. The dog cautiously approached, watching Dad. But he just turned back and came into the house. After a couple minutes, the dog wolfed down the food. Dad called the animal shelter and the humane society, but no one had inquired about a missing black, brown and gold dog.

After that, we fed the dog and he stayed around. At first, he only came up to the house in the afternoon when we got home, hoping for food. But eventually, he ventured onto the back porch. Then it was only a matter of time before we all introduced ourselves. He was love-starved and soon worked his way into all of our hearts. He came in the house, but still slept outside ... until winter. Then he joined the family full-time. We bought him a dog pillow that became his bed. My brother Jordan named him Roscoe after a cartoon character, a roly-poly little guy with a big smile who always got in trouble without realizing it.

But in one way, Roscoe was different from all my friends' dogs. We never put him on a leash or locked him in the house when we went away. He was allowed to come and go as he pleased. Since he was a stray, Dad felt we shouldn't prevent him from continuing his travels some day. But for two years now, he'd lived with us and had never left our property.

I finished setting out the silverware and looked over at Dad. "But what if someone else took him in like we did?" I felt myself close to tears. Roscoe was my best friend. He'd been sleeping at the end of my bed for a year now. Of course, Mom and Dad didn't know because he only jumped up after they were asleep and left early before anyone was up. Such a smart dog!

Dad walked over and put his arm around my shoulder. "I know you're worried. I promise tomorrow, I'll try to find him. It's too dark now, but I'll look for him in the car and ask around town. We'll find him." He smiled at me.

"I just hope something didn't happen to him..."