she wanted to do Go Home herself, had a place she needed to be, and where we were standing now was too far away from there.
I went to her, wagging, touching her with my nose. I loved Big Kitten, and knew that if I stayed with her she would hunt all winter for us, find prey when the snow made my progress so difficult. I had enjoyed my life with her, first when she was a defenseless kitty, and then when she grew large enough to protect herself, and now when she saved me from the small bad dogs. But my life had taught me that I would stay with people and animals until it was time to move on, and it was that time now. I had to do Go Home.
I went back to tracking the odors toward the town up ahead. When I stopped and turned, Big Kitten was back on the rock, watching me with unwinking eyes. I remembered my mother doing the same thing, when I left her at her new home under the deck. Dutch had been confused and upset when I said good-bye but Big Kitten merely watched, just like Mother Cat. She was still there the next time I glanced back, and the next.
And then I looked, and Big Kitten was gone.
* * *
It was dusk when I strolled into the town. There were leaves on the ground, scuttling ahead of me on the light breeze. Cheerful lights blinked awake inside the houses, flickering as people walked in front of windows.
I was not hungry, but knew I would be soon. I slept under a bench in a park that smelled like children and dogs. In the morning I drank from a cold, clear river, avoiding the men and women I heard speaking to each other. I craved their company, but had no way of knowing which ones would keep me from returning to Lucas.
Behind some buildings I found a bin so overstuffed that the lid was propped open. I jumped up, trying to get inside, but was not able to get a purchase on the lip of the bin with my fore claws. I remembered trying to clamber out of Sylvia’s pool—there are some things I simply could not do. Instead, when I leaped up, I thrust my snout into the bin and grabbed what I could, which turned out to be a sack with nothing edible in it. I tried again, this time snagging a plastic bag with my teeth. It fell to the ground and I ripped into it. I found a box with bird pieces and bones in it, not chicken but similar, and also a foil wrapping with spicy meat and flat bread.
There were many people walking the streets where the cars were, but very few in the narrow roads behind the buildings. The two humans I saw did not call to me.
One building pulled me irresistibly forward—I smelled dog bones and dog treats and dog food in it. My mouth watering, I saw that its back door was open. I wondered if going inside would mean that I would be chased by a man in white clothes. A very tall truck was backed up right outside the open door, and when I cautiously explored it, I saw that the truck was open like a garage in the rear. By climbing the steps to the back door of the shop, I was on a cement pad at the same level as the deck of the open truck. I nimbly leaped across the gap between the cement and the wooden floor of the vehicle, lured by delicious odors. The enclosure was mostly empty except up toward the front end, where I encountered plastic that did nothing to contain the delicious odors from underneath it. I tore off the plastic and uncovered bags and bags of dog food.
I ripped into the paper sack and began to feed. I did not feel like a bad dog; I was supposed to eat dog food!
Then a man came out of the back of the store. I froze, feeling guilty, but he didn’t even look at me. He reached to the top of the truck and yanked on a strap and with a bang the back end of the truck was closed off. I went over to the door, sniffing, smelling the man and dog food and little else.
The vehicle rattled to life with a roar and, swaying and bouncing, I felt it begin to