His name was Biscuit.
He was a big brown dog with floppy ears and kind eyes.
He loved his family more than anything in the world.
There were two kids, Lily and Tom, and their mom and dad.
They gave him belly rubs and fed him scraps from the table.
Life was good for Biscuit.
But one day, things changed.
Dad lost his job, and the family had to move far away.
Mom said they could not take Biscuit to the new place.
The new home did not allow dogs.
Lily cried for days.
Tom held Biscuit tight and would not let go.
But on a gray Tuesday morning, Dad drove Biscuit to a house on the edge of town.
It was an old couple’s home, the Greens.
They were nice people who said they would care for him.
Dad knelt down and looked Biscuit in the eyes.
He said nothing, but his face said everything.
Then he got in the car and drove away.
Biscuit sat at the gate and watched the car disappear.
He whined softly.
Then he stopped making noise and just stared down the road.
That night, Biscuit did not eat his food.
He just lay by the fence and looked up at the dark sky.
The next morning, the Greens found the gate open.
Biscuit was gone.
He had pushed the latch up with his nose and slipped out.
He did not know where his family had gone.
But his nose did.
Biscuit put his head low and started to sniff the road.
He picked up the scent of Dad’s old car.
He followed it step by step, mile by mile.
The sun got hot, and his paws hurt on the hard road.
Cars honked at him, and he jumped to the side each time.
He crossed a long bridge over a wide river.
He walked through a small town where a boy threw him a piece of bread.
He drank from a puddle in a parking lot.
Still, he kept going.
He walked all day and into the night.
When the sun came up again, he was still on the road.
His legs were tired and his paws were sore and red.
But he did not stop.
On the second day, he reached a quiet street with small houses.
He sniffed the air hard.
Something felt right here.
He walked up to a yellow house at the end of the block.
He sat down in front of the door and let out one big bark.
Inside, Lily heard it first.
She froze.
She knew that bark.
She ran to the door and pulled it open.
There was Biscuit, dirty and thin, with his tail going crazy.
She screamed and dropped to her knees and hugged him.
Tom came running and piled on top of them both.
Mom stood in the doorway with her hand over her mouth.
Dad walked out slowly and looked down at the dog he had left behind.
Biscuit looked up at him and licked his hand.
No anger, no blame.
Just love.
Dad sat down on the steps and buried his face in Biscuit’s fur.
His shoulders shook.
He did not say a word.
That night, the family called the landlord and begged him to make an exception.
They told him about the 20-mile walk.
The landlord was quiet for a long moment.
Then he said, “A dog like that deserves a home.”
Biscuit got a bath, a warm meal, and a new bed by the window.
He curled up that night with Lily on one side and Tom on the other.
His tail gave one last slow wag.
Then he closed his eyes and slept.
He was home.