It was as if they had all come to tell me good-bye.
In the morning I climbed one more long, big hill, and everything was different. I descended into a place of roads and cars and could no longer set a straight course, because where before my obstacles had been hills and rocks, I was now confronted with fences and buildings. I knew, though, that I was making my way in the right general direction, and patiently wound through the streets, passing houses, hearing dogs, seeing people. I was conscious of being stared at by men and women and a few children called out to me, but I deliberately ignored them.
The light faded from the sky, but the streets were lit and I actually felt more comfortable in the shadows. Car sounds drained away as the night grew late. Dogs left their yards, and their barking became more and more rare.
I did not sleep, but stayed on the move through the darkness. Sounds grew louder as the sun rose, and I was back to feeling exposed, but I was so close now. I recognized a park where I had been with Lucas and Olivia. Almost home! I broke into a heedless run.
When I turned down my street I slowed, unsure. Everything was different. The row of low, dirty houses across from our home were missing, including the one where the cat den had been. Tall buildings had taken their place, and I could smell many people, their scents flowing out open windows.
But I was finally here! I did Go Home, but I did not curl up against the wall as I had been taught. Instead I scratched at the door, wagging, and barked. Lucas!
A woman opened the door, the smells from home pouring out. “Hello, dear,” she greeted me.
I wagged, but I could not smell Lucas. I could not smell Mom. Some of the odors were familiar, but I knew Lucas was not inside. Home no longer was filled with Lucas, it instead carried the scent of this woman in front of me.
“What’s your name? Why don’t you have a collar? Are you lost?” she asked me.
She was a nice lady, but I needed to find my person. When I pushed past her she said, “Oh my!” She did not seem angry, though.
I stopped in the living room. She had a couch but it was not the same couch, and the table was different. I went down the hallway. Lucas’s room did not have a bed, it had other furniture instead. Mom’s room had a bed in the same place but it was not Mom’s bed.
“What are you doing, sweetheart?” the woman asked when I emerged from the bedroom and rejoined her in the kitchen.
She held out her hand and I went to her wagging, hoping for an explanation. People can do wonderful things, and I wanted her to fix this for me, because it was not something a dog could understand.
The woman gave me some water and some meat treats. I ate them gratefully, but inside I felt sick, realizing she would not be able to help me.
Lucas was gone.
Twenty-seven
I was immediately afflicted with a pressing urge to leave, to get back on the trail. It was not Go Home without Lucas. Whatever was happening, that was the only action I could think to take.
When I went to the door and sat expectantly, the nice woman came over to look down at me. “Are you leaving so soon? You just got here.”
I glanced from her to the door, waiting for her to open it. She leaned over and held my chin with her cupped palm. “I have the sense that you came for a very important reason, but I don’t have anything to do with it, do I?”
I heard the kindness in her voice and wagged.
“Whatever you are doing,” she whispered, “I hope you find what you are looking for.”
She opened the door and I trotted outside. “Good-bye, girl!” I heard her call behind me, but I did not look back.
I thought I knew where I should go.
*
I smelled her scent strongly painted on the ground as I approached her den under the deck built on the hill, where I had followed her once long, long ago: Mother Cat was still alive. When I pressed my nose into the space, I could tell she was in there, so I pulled my head back and waited, wagging.
After a moment she came out, purring, and rubbed herself against me. She was so tiny! I did not know how she had gotten so small.
I was so happy to be back with my mother. I remembered back to a time when she took care of me, when my kitten siblings and I were in the den together. Now that I had lost Lucas, I was comforted by having her head touch me. She was my first family, and right now, the only family that I could find.
Mother Cat was moving stiffly, and her fur was missing in small, mottled places. I sniffed her carefully and there was cat food on her breath, with no sign of the feral odor of birds and mice. Nor was there any indication she had been near Lucas recently. My hopes that she would lead me back to my person were not to be realized.
When Mother Cat gracefully leapt up onto the deck itself I followed, finding some steps I could easily climb. The deck jutted from a house and up against some big windows, where I found a bowl of food and some water, along with the scent of people.
I realized then that someone was taking care of my mother here at her new den, just as Lucas had fed her at the old one, just as some people had fed me while I had been on my long journey.
Mother Cat watched me as I ate the moist, fishy food from her bowl. There was not much there, but the few bites were delicious. Then I went back to probing her with my nose—I could tell she had not had kittens in some time—there was no milk aroma clinging to her.
When a woman suddenly appeared in the big glass door I expected my mother to run away, but she didn’t flee, not even when the door slid open. Mother Cat turned and calmly regarded the woman, who smelled of flour and sugar.
“Daisy? Who is this dog?” the woman asked.
I wagged at the word “dog.”
Mother Cat walked underneath me, rubbing her back on my belly as she did so.
“Oh, Daisy, this is a stray. She doesn’t even have a collar. Did she eat your food?”
The woman bent and put her hand out, but the cat kept her distance. There was a reason why Mother Cat had no human smells on her fur; she might accept food but she did not crave a person’s touch. I was still wagging, wondering if the woman needed to pet me instead.
“Shoo, dog. You don’t belong here.”
The woman pointed, and then made a motion as if she were throwing a ball. I looked toward where she was gesturing, but didn’t see anything.
“Go home,” she commanded.
I stared at her in confusion. Lucas and Mom were no longer there. What did Go Home mean now?
“Go!” she shouted.
I understood that she saw me as a bad dog, possibly because I was not doing Go Home. I slunk off the deck, jumping down to the dirt, and Mother Cat followed me.
“Daisy? Kitty-kitty?” she called.