Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
alone. Before we realized what was happening he was just like any that had meant so much to him when he was tied to his wheelchair and couldn't do anything but wait and think. For instance, a scrubby little terrier followed him home from Twin Palms one day and Ethel let him keep it. He fed the pup and washed it to remember charlie by by ... Roger Dee Just a one-eyed dog named Charlie and a crippled boy named and named it Dugan, and after that he never said anything more about going to Michigan to find Charlie. It was only natural, of course, Joey—but between them they changed the face of the universe When they were gone the Twin Palms trailer court was so lonesome and that separated his mother's trailer from the one Doc Shull and I lived job in Tampa where Joey could walk to school instead of going by bus. His wheelchair was parked as usual on the tired strip of carpet grass ... perhaps. I gave it up and went on to my own trailer without asking any more parked our trailer at the Twin Palms court. I'd nearly stumbled over Joey that time too, but he wasn't moving stars then. He was just He'd been sitting in his wheelchair at the west end of the He didn't jump or look up. His voice placed him as a cracker, either south Georgian or native Floridian. "I'm waiting for Charlie to come home," he said, keeping his eyes on the highway. Probably I'd have asked who Charlie was but just then the trailer door opened behind him and his mother took over. I couldn't see her too well because the lights were off inside the accents every day. "Let the boy alone." trailer I shared with Doc Shull and left the two of them waiting for Charlie together. Our trailer was dark inside, which meant first that Doc had probably gone out looking for a drink as soon as I left that morning to pick up saw Doc asleep in his bunk. Ponds were permanent residents. The kid—his name was Joey and he was We were halfway through supper when I remembered something the kid had said. "Who's Charlie?" I asked. Doc frowned at his plate. "The kid had a dog named Charlie, a big shaggy mutt with only one eye and no love for anybody but the boy. The dog isn't coming home. He was run down by a car on the highway while Joey was hospitalized with polio." "Tough," I said, thinking of the kid sitting out there all day in his he's been waiting a year ?" staying long at the Twin Palms trailer court. It wasn't a very around the trailer playing cribbage and drinking beer with Doc Shull. looking its screwball funniest with our arguments one or the other of us would look out the window and see Joey Pond in his wheelchair, waiting for a one-eyed dog named Charlie to come trotting home across the palmetto flats. He was always there, day or night, until his mother came home from work and rolled him inside. It wasn't right or natural for a kid to wait like that for anything and it worried me. I even offered once to buy the kid another mutt but the kid didn't want another mutt because he had what Doc called a psychological block. "Charlie was more than just a dog to him," Doc said. "He was a sort of symbol because he offered the kid two things that no one else in the world could—security and independence. With Charlie keeping him company he felt secure, and he was independent of the kids who could run and play because he had Charlie to play with. If he took another dog now he'd be giving up more than Charlie. He'd be giving up everything that Charlie had meant to him, then there wouldn't be any point in living." I could see it when Doc put it that way. The dog had spent more time with Joey than Ethel had, and the kid felt as safe with him as he'd have been with a platoon of Marines. And Charlie, being a one-man dog, had depended on Joey for the affection he wouldn't take from anybody else. The dog needed Joey and Joey needed him. Together, they'd been a natural. At first I thought it was funny that Joey never complained or cried when Charlie didn't come home, but Doc explained that it was all a part of this psychological block business. If Joey cried he'd be admitting that Charlie was lost. So he waited and watched, secure in his belief that Charlie would return. The Ponds got used to Doc and me being around, but they never got what said, but his eyes always went back to the palmetto flats and the highway, looking for Charlie. And he never let anything interfere with his routine. That routine started every morning when old man Cloehessey, the mail for the trailer-court tenants. Cloehessey would always make it a point to ride back by way of the Pond trailer and Joey would stop him and ask if he's seen anything of a one-eyed dog on his route that day. mop his bald scalp, scowling while he pretended to think. Then he'd say, "Not today, Joey," or, "Thought so yesterday, but this fellow had two eyes on him. 'Twasn't Charlie." Then he'd pedal away, shaking his head. Later on the handyman would come around to swap sanitary tanks under the trailers and Joey would Charlie had come home and was scratching at the trailer ramp to be let in, and he'd wake Ethel and beg her to go out and see. When that happened Doc and I could hear Ethel talking to him, low and steady, until all hours of the morning, and when he finally went back to sleep and opened a beer because we knew neither of us would sleep any more till she got Joey quiet again. But this night was different. Ethel hadn't talked to the kid long when he yelled, "Charlie! Charlie! " and after that we heard both of them bawling. A little later Ethel came out into the moonlight and shut the trailer "She's done it, Roy," Doc said. I knew what he meant and wished I didn't. Ethel had finally told the kid that Charlie wasn't coming back, not ever. That's why I was worried about Joey when I came home the next evening and found him watching the sky instead of the palmetto flats. It meant he'd given up waiting for Charlie. And the quiet way the kid spoke of much as a toe. But to lose his dog in the bargain.... I was on my third beer when Doc Shull rolled in with a big package under his arm. Doc was stone sober, which surprised me, and he was hot Diner, that a tourist car with Michigan license plates had picked Charlie up on the highway and taken him away. It was a good enough story. Joey still didn't know that Charlie was dead, but his waiting was over because no dog could be expected to find his way home from Michigan. "We've got to give the boy another interest," Doc said, putting away Charlie by. It was about nine o'clock, when Ethel went home to cook supper. Doc and I knocked off our cribbage game and went outside with our folding little companion—astronomers called it the "Pup" because Sirius was the Dog Star—hadn't moved, which puzzled the astronomers no end. I suggested to Doc, only half joking, that maybe the Pup had stayed put because it wasn't bright enough to suit Joey's taste, but Doc called to reach us. That means it started moving when Joey was only eighteen I trailed along, but we didn't get farther than Joey's wheelchair. I left Doc shaking his head at the sky and went over to give Joey, who really dark. Joey was sitting as usual all alone in his wheelchair. In Doc had given him to study. The thing that stopped me was that Joey ought to be easy to move my own feet," Joey said. "And he's right, finished because Joey Pond lost interest in it when he learned to walk Walking was a slow business with Joey at first because his legs had Ethel sent him to school at Sarasota by bus and before summer vacation

<question>:
Why was Joey always sitting outside of his trailer?

<options>:
A He was looking for the neighbor, Roy
B He liked to watch the shooting stars
C He was waiting for his mother to come home
D He was waiting for his dog Charlie to come home

<answer>:

D