The little dog was getting tired, but he trotted down the road as though he had a destination. He continued in the same downward spiral. Each corner brought the hope of something he could recognize. He stayed alert for any familiar sound, or scent. His feet were sore and he was hungry.  Dusk was setting in and he sensed the anxiety of another night alone, cold, tired, and nothing to eat.  He heard a roaring sound again and he paused to watch as a car zoomed by him coming close enough to ruffle his shaggy brown fur.  He was close to the bottom of the hill now and he stopped quickly as he picked up the scent of food, his nose whiffing for the location.  He lept over the ditch and found the smell.  He began tearing at the bag he’d discovered, finding some bits of food which were promptly devoured.  Not enough though, to take away the pangs of hunger he felt.  At the bottom now, he saw ahead of him a long stretch of road and he looked around for a place to rest awhile, perhaps all night. He had stayed on the roadway purposefully because in his mind he thought one of those cars might stop for him, and he would see the familiar faces and smells, and be touched and be safe.

He decided to go into the woods aways and there seemed to be a pathway there.  He went a little ways and then father into a remote area where he lay down to rest.  A paw was bleeding a little and he licked at it until it felt better and he collapsed into sleep.  The next morning he awoke to another scent of food.  He got up aware that his body was stiff and sore, and started in the direction of the smell.  He heard voices and he quickened his steps and came upon an opening to see a sight he had longed to see.  Men, talking and cooking food and he dashed right up to them, excitedly.  He had barely a chance to show how happy he was and how much he needed food, before one of them threw something at him and yelled loudly “Get oughta here ya little rat.”  He ran away as fast as his weary legs would go.  He didn’t understand it at all, but he felt danger if he stayed.  He found his way back to the roadway stopping for a drink of puddle water.  He knew he must continue on in his search and he was determined to find the familiar scents and voices that he knew so well, the place where he belonged.  If he were to ever get home again he would need to stay on the road where he might be found.  With his nose to guide him, and his resolve to get home, he trotted off to another day, with hope that the next car might stop. might recognize him.