Female then astounded me by leaping nimbly off the ground, her rear paws scrabbling on the sides of the barrel while her snout dug inside. She fell back, pulling a box with her from which spilled meats wrapped in bread. Each dog pulled out a meal, darting away from the pack to quickly finish it off. Mine was wrapped in plastic but when I tore into it there was food coated with a tangy, bitter sauce that made me sneeze.
Several times Female dove for more paper. Sometimes what she dragged out had no value—little pieces of vegetables, or more of the tangy sauce—but a few times there was more to eat. I was the youngest so I shied back, not thrusting my head forward when the two males dove on what Female had extracted, but waiting until she had dropped down and taken her share as well. That was the rule of this pack.
And then on some unknown signal, the two males trotted away. Female was licking some paper and the way she eyed me let me know that if I approached she would snap at me, so I gave her plenty of room as I followed her companions.
We made our way to another door with fantastic fragrances. Though it was shut, it was made of a metal substance through which I could see people moving around inside the building. In a way, it reminded me of the thin blankets Lucas utilized to catch the cats in the den—the material shrouded but did not block the light from inside.
I kept my distance from Female. Small Male and I wrestled while Big Male marked and then there was a noise from within the building and all of us ran expectantly to the door and sat. I was next to Big Male, and he licked his lips, so I did, too.
The door opened. “Well, hello there, are you here for a handout?” a man called. Unlike the woman, he did not hand us treats, but tossed things at us, one canine at a time. The piece of wonderful, salty meat that he pitched at me bounced off my nose, but I jumped on it and gobbled it before any of the other dogs could react. Bacon! We each had our chance at several more treats, and though I tried to snatch them out of the air like my companions, I dropped every one.
The man shut the door, though we could still hear and see him through it. “That’s all I have for tonight. Go on home, now. Go Home.”
I stared in amazement. How did he know about Go Home?
The pack trotted away and I followed, though I still carried the man’s voice in my head. I was very far from Lucas, but I had just been commanded Go Home.
We went up a street with houses. Lights beamed through the windows, and I smelled food and people and some dogs and some cats.
Female left us. One moment she was with the pack, and the next she simply turned away and trotted up a walkway toward a front porch. I stopped and watched her, but when the males didn’t wait, I hurried to catch up.
And then Big Male separated from us. Small Male marked a tree while Big Male went directly to a metal door. I heard a loud rasp as he dragged his nails across the door’s surface. After a moment, a small boy opened it, allowing a brief flash of light out into the street before Big Male went inside and the door was shut.
Small Male sniffed me, and when he turned toward a house, looking back and wagging, I knew he wanted me to follow.
But I understood something now. The pack was doing what the man said, they were doing Go Home. They each had a house to go to, with people inside who would love them. They were a temporary pack, the way such groups sometimes formed among the canines at the dog park. When each human called out a name, a dog left the park, and if Lucas and I stayed there long enough the pack would dwindle until it was just me. One dog does not make a pack.
Small Male wanted to keep me in his family, but I could not go with Small Male because my person was not here. My person was Lucas.
I had learned some things I had not known. Where there were buildings there were nice people who handed out treats and there were barrels and bins full of food that was easily hunted. A town had food.
But I could not do Go Home and stay in this town.
I turned my nose toward the direction I knew would lead me to Lucas. That way there was no town, there were no buildings. There were hills and streams and trees, and I could smell the sharp tang of snow up there as well. If I wanted to do Go Home, I would have to be without a pack, in high hills where there were no people.
Small Male was halfway up the yard to a house, watching. Part of me yearned to join him—he had the smell of more than one human hand on his fur, and it would be so nice to sleep on a soft bed and be fed and petted by Small Male’s people.
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.