You decide to leave the milk for later and walk Fat Cat the dog. You open the door, and just as Fat Cat descends the three short steps down to the muddy backyard you squint as the slightest sliver of sun peeks through the foggy dawn. There seems to be a small shadow moving swiftly to the right along the old, muddy creek bed where the fields meet the hills. Fat Cat stops at the bottom step and growls.
"Come on, Fat Cat. It's just a rabbit, and you couldn't move that fast even if you wanted to. Let's just do your route and head back inside. I've got to clean that milk up before Mugsy gets to it."
Fat Cat accepts defeat and starts down the same path you've taken every morning this week- once around the house one way, then once around the other, then straight out the backyard to the edge of the peanut field- but instead of turning around and heading back inside, the old dog suddenly breaks into a run, tearing the leash from your hand and giving you a slight burn. Stunned and slightly annoyed, you watch as his dew-laden mass moves through the field and heads for the hills.

What do you do?
A. You let the foolish dog run while you head back inside to doctor your hand and clean up the milk. Go to Page 4.
B. You've got nothing better to do, so you give chase, wishing you'd put on your sneakers. Go to Page 5.