I felt safe here, in this place with cars and humans who hand-fed good dogs. My few days on the trail led me to believe there were perils up there I did not know, animals I had never seen, and areas where I might not find food. Here, with Small Male, I would be taken care of. There, on my own, I would face danger.
I could not be with my person and also Small Male. I turned away from him, took a deep whiff of the night air, and went to find my Lucas.
Thirteen
I felt uneasy as the lights and smells of the town faded behind me. The moon lit the way, but I felt vulnerable on my own, as if having been in a pack reminded me how much safer a dog is traveling in the company of others. I also now understood I was on a journey of many days—when I used the slide to jump over the fence, I was propelled by a belief that I would very soon be home. Now, though, I knew that I might walk and walk and the scent of my hometown would still be far away.
I spent the night by the river, in a place where a scooped-out area in the ground was shaped like a dog bed. Several times I awoke at the sound or smell of small animals, but they did not approach me and none of them were familiar to my nose.
The path I was on did not always take me in the direction I needed to go, but often it would eventually twist back, and if I stayed with it I would make progress toward my goal. The surer footing made for much swifter passage than when I took a more direct course and attempted to climb over the rocks and the other obstacles that blocked my way. The scent of people and animals was painted into the path, so I could easily find it.
People on the path announced their approach with their talking and loud footfalls, so I always knew when to veer away and let them pass. I did not want to take another car ride.
As darkness closed in I found a flat area heavily imbued with human scents. A few wooden tables were scattered about, and near a few of them were metal poles atop which were buckets of ash and the tantalizing promise of burned meat, though when I stood on my back legs to investigate I was only able to lick a trace of food from the bars atop the ashes.
Much more promising was a round barrel similar to the one Female had climbed into, though this one was metal. I attempted to duplicate her feat, but where she was able to climb in by leaping up, hooking her front paws on the lip, and then scrabbling with her rear legs, my own leap and grab only succeeded in pulling the entire thing over. Guiltily, I remembered Lucas telling me bad dog when I did something similar at home in the kitchen, but that did not stop me from locating chicken pieces and a thick piece of sugary treat and some dry biscuits that were not very good. The chicken crunched as I chewed through the bones and I licked delicious juices from the plastic container I pulled from the barrel. I was as full as I had been in several days, and contentedly curled up under the table for the night. Having a satisfied tummy made me feel safe.
The next day the trail took me steeply uphill, and I was tired. Before long I realized I was already hungry again. I regretted ever disliking Good Exercise, the game where Mom or Lucas would toss dog snacks down the stairs for me to run after them, gobble them up, and then climb back to the kitchen. Now I would happily play that game all day, if they wanted.
When I heard a flat, loud noise I instantly turned in the direction from which it came and ran toward it. I knew what that boom meant—Dude and Warren were using their pipe. Though I would not get in their car, I would gladly accept more meaty morsels.
Soon I heard voices. They were men and they sounded excited. “She’s got to weigh a hundred fifty pounds!” someone shouted.
I emerged cautiously from the trees. Up ahead there was a ridge. I now could smell the humans and they were not