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anyone else, not even her parents.
    Lately, the one thing she talks about is going to something called “school”.
    â€œSummer is almost over,” she whispers to me as we lie in bed. “It’s almost time to start fourth grade.” She’s nervous. I can tell by the way her voice shakes when she talks.
    â€œThe schoolwork is going to get harder,” she continues. “I have trouble with my schoolwork sometimes. The medicines I take make it hard for me to concentrate.”
    She lets out a big sigh, then adds, “And I don’t have any friends. I don’t know how to talk to the other kids in my class. They know about my seizures. They probably think I’m weird. No one ever tries to talk to me.”
    I wish so much that I could really speak to her. I want to tell her how amazing she is and that she should just be herself. I know the other kids will love her like I do if they just get to know her.
    â€œI am happy about one thing, though. I’m happy that you get to go to school with me,” she says.
    I wag my tail to agree because I’m happy to go anywhere with Kinsey. But I’ve never been to school before. And if Kinsey is scared of it, I can’t help but feel scared, too.
    If my job is to protect her, I shouldn’t be scared of anything. What kind of guardian gets scared anyway? I’m supposed to be a big, tough bodyguard, not a nervous little puppy.
    I do know one thing, though. If Kinsey is there with me, it can’t be too scary. We are a team. Together, we can do anything.
    Even face this scary thing called “school”.

4
    A Conversation with Chaucer
    W hen it is time for supper, Kinsey always sets out some special food for me. It comes from a can. I look forward to it every day.
    Chaucer gets food from a can, too. Our bowls are in the kitchen, right beside each other. Kinsey and her parents take their places at the table in the attached dining room.
    I eat much faster than Chaucer. Being a big dog, my mouth is bigger. I can eat every bite of my meal and lick my bowl clean before he is even halfway done with his.
    Most nights, after I am finished with mine, I like to tease him a little. I move over right next to him and stare at him so that he thinks I’m going to eat his food. He growls at me in irritation and lifts one paw to show me his sharp claws. As if that will scare me.
    But tonight, I am too lost in my thoughts to mess with him. It is the last night of summer vacation. School will begin tomorrow.
    Apparently, I am eating slower than usual. Chaucer finishes his own food first, then turns and stares at me as I slowly chew

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    m y bite .
    â€œWhat’s wrong, Dog?” he asks. He always calls me “Dog,” like he can’t remember my real name or something.
    â€œNothing,” I reply.
    â€œAre you sick? You’re not inhaling your food in your usual disgusting manner.”
    â€œNo,” I say with a glare. “I’m just thinking.”
    â€œYou’re thinking ? You mean that tiny brain of yours can do that?” For whatever reason, Chaucer is under the impression that he is much smarter than I am.
    I ignore his insult and come out with the truth, even though I’m embarrassed to admit it. “I’m just a little nervous, that’s all. School begins tomorrow.”
    â€œSo?” Chaucer yawns in boredom. “Why would that make you nervous?”
    â€œBecause I’ve never been to school before. Plus, Kinsey is pretty anxious about it herself.”
    Chaucer turns to face me. “Wait a minute. Why do you think you have to go to school? School is for humans. Animals don’t have to go; we get to stay home and relax all day while the kid is away. It gives us a little peace and quiet.”
    â€œNot me,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I get to go with Kinsey. I will spend every day at school with her.”
    Chaucer stares at me and then begins to cackle a