November 6, 2008
By Kenzie Hamilton, Littleton, CO

I walked faster hoping that Rebecca's little legs could handle the speed. I had a feeling that I shouldn't have done it. I was a fourteen year ole girl, and Rebecca was three. What was I thinking?

Babysitting is not my forte I thought as I urged the both of us to move down the path quicker.

It was such a nice day that my young charge and I went on a walk to the park. We sat on the swings and I talked to her about pre-school. She enjoyed it, but it was much to long for her liking. Twenty minutes before Rebecca's mother was supposed to pick her up, we left the park and took the long way home. We turned the corner, and there she was, my neighbor's dog wandering along the path.

'The Smith's house isn't so far away' I said to myself. With Rebecca trailing along behind me, I called the dog.
"Gracie!" The dog came to me and began to follow me down the street. When we got to the house, I rang the doorbell and waited. No one answered.
"I don't think ther're home" a voice called across the street. "Try putting the dog in the back yard".
"Gracie" I said again. But, Gracie knowing that she was home did not come around the house to the back gate.
The man came across the street.
"Let me help". He said simply. "Let me take the girl so that you can take the dog around back".

I lunged across the porch and grabed Rebecca's hand.
"I would rather not". I said politely. "Would you please take the dog instead?"
"I will not have this dog dumped on me!" He shouted.
"I have to go". I was panicking, but I knew that I could not show it infront of Rebecca. She was scared enough with this old man yelling at us.
"I have to go". I said again, this time unable to keep the panic out of my voice. I began to walk away.
"Where do you live?" the man asked.
I pointed in a random direction.
"I am going to follow you home!"
I walked faster. Rebecca was to big for me to pick up. My house was the closet home and I was scared. I got home okay, and the man yelled at my parents, my dad cussed him off of our porch and we all lived happily ever after and never saw Mr. Poop pants again as he came to be known by my siblings.

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