The thing that struck me when I walked around Dobie's house was all the pictures of him. He looks so happy in all of them. He had that goofy smile in a couple, the smile that ten-year-old kids have. And even in the pictures that he was working in, he looked happy. You can tell that he really did enjoy nature and that he loved writing about nature. His house still has that old smell. Not the smell of old people, the old house smell. You know what I mean. My grandma's house smells like that to. And the wooden floors. I totally love wooden floors. It is cool to actually see things about the people we study. It makes them more like a real person rather than just a name in a book. It seems wierd to actually be in the house that he lived in. And died. UCK! For some reason that just grosses me out. EW! He died here. That just seems so wierd. I wonder what Dobie would think if he knew that his house was this museum thing. Would he be happy? Would he be affended? I'm not sure if I would ever like that. Well I guess I had died and I was never there it would be cool.