Bound For Home Read online

She gripped Max’s cage between her fingers. Her jade bracelet clinked gently against the metal. She twisted the bracelet, once.

  “I’ll take him,” she said.

  MAX THREW UP in the truck. He hadn’t meant to; it was just that the shelter worker had given him a final bowl of kibble before his long, windy ride toward wherever he was going. He was in the front, panting from stress, sandwiched between the girl and the man, the girl holding on to his collar, when the whole bowl full of kibble got a running start out of his stomach and came exploding through his mouth.

  His vomit landed everywhere—on the girl, on the man, on the seat of the truck, on the floor of the truck, on his paws. Another heave left a splatter of brown gunk on the windshield, and if Max had not felt so sick, he would have been impressed with himself.

  “Gross! Stop! We’ve got to stop!” the girl cried.

  “Emi, we’re almost back at the house,” the man replied. “Just hang on for two more miles.”

  “But …”

  “We can’t do anything right now. We’ve got no rags or paper towels in the truck—we have to wait until we can get some from home.”

  “Ugh, fine,” said the girl.

  The man shook his head and fell silent. Max noticed that there was some puke on the steering wheel. He leaned over and licked it up, then started cleaning his paws and the seat next to him.

  “Thanks, boy. Wouldn’t have wanted to put my hand in that.” The man laughed.

  “Ew. Ew, ew, ewwww,” the girl said.

  Max paid her no mind. Food was food. By the time he had finished re-eating all that was in reach, the truck had pulled into a short driveway, the tires crunching against the ice-slicked dirt. The man parked next to a small wooden house with a plume of smoke drifting from the brick chimney.

  The girl opened the door, and Max hopped out. He sniffed the air, feeling the cold, crisp freedom of it. Here was his chance to escape!

  He bolted toward the woods—and the leash stopped him mid-stride.

  Oops. So much for attempt #9. As Max was pulled back, he caught a glimpse of amused eyes peering out at him from the shadows behind a stone wall.

  He flipped around and raced toward the house, dragging the girl behind him, where a nice lady opened the door for him, and he hurtled inside.

  The first thing he did was to put his nose down and sniff everything he could find. He smelled his way past a shoe bench, knocking over the boots that lay underneath it, around a soapstone woodstove pumping out waves of heat, onto a worn brown couch with cushions that smelled of lost popcorn and copper pennies, into the kitchen, where he licked up a smattering of cookie crumbs and tomato sauce before being shooed away by the nice lady, whose face had gone from smiling to alarmed just as he was about to bite down on a gob of peanut butter that appeared to be resting on some kind of wooden block with a metal hinge and a picture of holey cheese on its front, into a bathroom that provided nothing of interest, past a couple of closed doors, and back into the living room, where he promptly had a nice long pee on the carpet.

  He chose his spot carefully, sniffing around until he found the corner that smelled just right. No cobwebs, no dust, and just a whiff of feline scent that he decided to cover right up.

  After attempt #8, the shelter had forgotten to bring him outside before returning him to his kennel, so Max had a whole night’s worth of liquid to unleash. He lifted his leg and let go, a smile of relief streaked across his face.

  The girl saw him and began to yell. Startled, Max peed harder. The girl crossed the carpet over to him and scooped him up in her arms. She lugged him out to the front porch and down the steps, droplets flying everywhere, until they reached the driveway and Max was allowed to finish peeing in peace.

  Once he was done, he made a beeline toward the main road, but a loud yell from the girl chasing him from behind made him change his mind. Instead, he swung around and galloped back toward the house, nimbly dodging the girl’s outstretched arms. When he reached the edge of the plowed driveway, he scrabbled up the hardened, crusted-over snowbank, leash flying behind him, and leaped toward the freedom of the woods behind the house.

  Attempt #10 and he was finally free!

  RED WAS JUST about to start her afternoon mouse hunt when the truck wheezed in front of the house and jerked to a stop. From her vantage point on top of the woodshed, she could see the humans inside it. It was the man and the girl. Something was sitting directly on the girl, pawing at the window while she struggled with the latch. When the girl opened the door, the thing exploded out of the truck, tongue hanging, paws flailing.

  A dog, Red thought in disgust. I don’t understand what humans see in them. Don’t they know that dogs are nothing but trouble? They dig up gardens and make messes inside the house and destroy slippers. She licked her long fur and slipped through a hole in the shed, where she had made a little home for herself.

  When the previous owners had left the area a year ago, Red had been in the woods hunting. She had not seen the moving truck lurch into the driveway or her family load all their possessions into it. She did not hear the boy call her name, over and over. She had been off on her own adventure, pursuing squirrels and mice under the fresh-fallen leaves of autumn.

  Then, when she had returned, her family was gone. The house had been locked and shuttered, the scent of the family already fading.

  Despite herself, Red had felt disappointed. She had grown to respect the boy, even perhaps love him. He had been kind to her, leaving out tins of tuna and bowls of dry kibble in the winter when food was scarce, and never asking her to leave the shed that she called home to become his captive inside the house.

  She would have abandoned the familiar woods to follow him, perhaps even allowed herself to become an indoor cat. But the boy was gone, Red was alone, and she would not make the mistake of trusting a human with her affection again.

  After all, she did not need them. Like her hardy Maine coon ancestors, Red was built to survive harsh winters on her own. Her coat had grown long and silky, and her ears sprouted tufts of fur that kept them warm. Her double paws kept her afloat above the snow, and her large size gave even the boldest of coyotes pause.

  When her family left her, rather than seek out new humans, Red had made her home in the shed and spent months surviving on the rodents that had scurried in expecting shelter from the winter. The only warmth they ended up finding was the inside of her belly.

  Then the new family had arrived. It had been a man and a woman, with a pickup and a small moving truck full of furniture and boxes. Two months after that, the girl had come home with them.

  Red had been wary of making herself known. She knew she could make it just fine without humans, and she wasn’t sure how the new people would react to her. So she kept her presence to the shed, which they had never opened, and observed them from a distance when they went out.

  This afternoon, Red was curious enough about the new arrival that she risked slipping out of the shed for a better look. She crept behind a stone wall and watched as the girl was dragged by the dog into the house. As they crossed the entrance, the dog lifted his furry head and looked around. He stuck out a long pink tongue and caught a snowflake. Despite herself, Red felt a flicker of amusement.

  What a dope, she thought.

  The dog turned his head and peered across the driveway to where Red was hidden. His eyes met hers, and he whined.

  Red settled into a crouch, slinking along the wall and behind a big oak tree to keep hidden. She watched as the humans and the dog went into the house.

  A few minutes later, she heard the creak of the front door of the house opening. There was a small cry, and the scatter of feet across the snow. Red poked her head out from behind the oak trunk just as a streak of canine fur scrambled past her.

  “Come back!” cried the girl. She stood in the doorway, pulling on her boots, losing vital seconds as the dog galloped into the forest.

  Red watched the girl take off after the escaped dog. As he disappeare
d into the thick pines, the girl went after him.

  Red hesitated, one paw lifted uncertainly while she debated whether to take a nap or to interfere. Her whiskers quivered in the closest thing to a sigh, and she stepped forward and into the snow.

  She followed the dog and the girl into the frozen woods. It was quiet except for the sound of the girl’s fast breathing and the shuffle of her boots against the snow.

  Red kept apace of the girl, staying to her side and out of sight, a silent stalker in the woods. Red had no trouble keeping up. The girl floundered in the deep snow, obviously unused to it, but kept going with stubborn determination. She went on until she came to a frozen stream. The dog had jumped it easily, but when the girl stepped onto the black ice, a spiderweb of cracks appeared and her foot plummeted through the ice. She withdrew it with a cry and stepped back.

  Then, as if all her determination had seeped out of her cold, soaked foot, the girl fell against the snowbank. Her head sank into her chest. Red could see water slipping down her cheeks.

  After a long time, the girl cleared her throat and dashed a hand across her face. She pulled a small package from her coat and tore it open. Tilting her head back, she poured colorful round pieces into her mouth and crunched down on them with bitter, practiced strength. When she was done, she crossed her arms and dug her fingers into her skin as if she were trying to keep her body from dissolving.

  It was beginning to get colder. Red waited for the girl to show an instinct for self-preservation and head back to the warmth of the house. But as the afternoon light slid lower through the trees, still the girl did not rise. Instead, she stuck her hands deep into her pockets and stared with fixed eyes in the direction of the cracked ice.

  It was the dog the girl was waiting for, Red realized.

  She scoffed at how foolish they both were. Each making simple mistakes that they thought nothing of, but that Red knew could cost their lives. But as she sat there looking at the little girl, Red decided as she licked her paws languidly, that she would help.

  She twisted her head and looked at the dog tracks on the other side of the stream. Then she leaped onto the frozen ice, balanced herself, and leaped again, clearing the stream.

  Bounding through the powdered snow, Red hunted the runaway dog up the side of the mountain. She had no trouble following his pawprints as they hurtled through the brush, mindless of the easier paths that the wild animals had already navigated. When she reached the dog, he was staring up at the darkening sky, as if the setting of the sun and the coming of night was a new thing for him.

  “Hey, dummy,” Red said to the dog.

  The dog’s ears shot straight up, and a startled bark escaped his throat. “Who—who—whooo are you?” he asked, shivering as he spoke.

  “I’m Red.”

  “Hi—hi—hiiiii, Red, I’mmmmm Max,” said Max, shivering.

  Red walked around Max once, sniffing at him. “Nothing of you smells like the earth and forest. You have no idea what to do out here, do you?” She didn’t wait for him to answer. “The woods is no place for a soft, tasty dog. I’m surprised the coyotes haven’t found you yet.”

  “Coyotes?” Max’s nose quivered.

  “They’re related to you. Only they’re wild. And they eat everything.” Red stared at Max. Her stern green eyes glittered. “Everything.”

  Max pawed at the snow. “But I’m free! You d-d-don’t understand—this is the moment I’ve been waiting for! I’ll just dig—dig—dig a hole and hide tonight. If I make it deep—deep enough, they won’t find me.”

  “No.” Red’s tail lashed to the side. “You are going to follow me back to the girl, and the two of you are going to go home right now. Neither of you are old enough nor smart enough to make it out here alone.”

  “B-but …,” Max started.

  Red held up a paw. “Do not make me swipe you.” She extended six sharp claws from her double paw and watched Max’s tail take a sudden droop.

  “Let’s go,” snapped Red. She turned and began to retrace her steps back to the girl, her gait strong and sure. She could hear footsteps behind her, wobbly and clumsy, but they kept up as she led Max to the cracked and frozen stream where the girl sat waiting.

  Max’s Guide to a Somewhat Awkward Reunion

  1. When you see the girl, bark happily through your chattering teeth. Now the coyotes have two soft, yummy things to choose from instead of just you!

  2. Cross the stream to say hello. Then, when the girl lifts her head and looks like she wants to both hug and murder you at the same time, pause.

  3. Remember that you’ve worked so hard for attempt #10 to succeed.

  4. Have second thoughts about going back toward the girl because it looks like the murder instead of the hug in her eyes is winning.

  5. Turn around.

  6. See the cat.

  7. Turn back around. The girl is less scary than the cat.

  8. When the girl lunges at you, decide that maybe both are equally scary.

  9. Dart left as the girl goes right.

  10. Dart right as the girl goes left.

  11. Dart left as the girl goes left.

  12. Realize your mistake as you feel the girl’s fingers under your collar.

  13. Hear the word gotcha for the second time. Begin to understand what it means.

  14. Wriggle. Wriggle. Wriggle some more.

  15. The girl pulls you one way; you pull the other way. It’s a tug-of-war—fun!

  16. Realize you are losing as the girl pulls you, inch by inch, back through the woods, up the porch steps, and into the house.

  While the girl stamped her boots on a rough mat next to the door, Max shook, snow flying off his back, as he dried off. He spotted a large metal bowl filled with water along the side of the living room wall and lapped at it thirstily.

  And lapped.

  And lapped.

  When the water was gone, he burped, regurgitated some slimy saliva water in his mouth, swallowed it back down, and then walked over to the girl, who was staring at him with what looked like just a hint of awe.

  “I can’t believe you drank all that,” she told him. “You camel.”

  Max burped again, then waddled over to a blanket that had been set by the woodstove. He turned around a few times and plopped down, nestling his nose into the blanket until his entire face was mostly covered except for his eyes.

  Hiding his muzzle, Max began to nibble on the blanket as he watched the girl spray some kind of liquid onto the carpet spots where he had peed. She had a roll of paper towels and mopped up the mess, starting from the living room corner all the way to the front door. When she was done, Max had successfully gnawed a dinner-plate-size hole in the blanket.

  Much later in the evening, the girl called to Max and scooped some kibble into a bowl next to the refilled water bowl. Max hurried over to his dinner and wolfed it down. He began another long slurping journey with his water, emptying the bowl once more.

  Right before bed, the girl took him outside. She stood in the gleam of the porch light as Max whizzed in the snow by the steps, his leash secured in both hands, wrapped three times across her palms.

  Max gave a half-hearted tug toward the woods, but he wasn’t really feeling like it was an appropriate time for attempt #11. It was too cold and too dark to do anything other than retreat back inside, where the girl opened one of the doors that had been closed earlier that day and led him into a plain, white-painted room with a wooden desk, a chair, and a small bed.

  In the corner next to the bed was a cage.

  He ran for the door, but it was already shut. The girl gathered him up in her arms and unloaded him into the cage before pulling the door shut, locking him inside.

  The cage was far more deluxe than the one that Max had had at the shelter. There was a thick cotton dog bed inside it, and on top of the bed was a stuffed dinosaur toy that made his mouth water.

  He should have felt lucky, but when the girl got into her bed and turned off the lamp on her nigh
tstand, a helpless whine skittered out of his throat. He tried to drown it by gnawing at the dino plush, but when the T. rex’s head had been chewed right off, he still felt the ugly knot of panic rise in his chest.

  It wasn’t long ago when he had gotten himself trapped inside a dumpster. He had been hunting for scraps outside a bakery. Following his nose, he had jumped inside it to feast on old bread and doughnuts but had made the mistake of stuffing himself into a stupor and settling down for a nap.

  He had awoken to the thud of a trash bag beside him and the window of light from the open dumpster blinking out as the lid slid shut over it.

  Eh, I have plenty of food, I’ll be okay, Max had thought, and had continued with his nap. Hours later, he finally woke up and stretched, ready to be let out. But when he barked, no one came.

  He had remained in the dumpster for two days, barking and whining as the smell of rotting butter and rancid bread grew stronger. He didn’t mind eating spoiled food, but there was nothing to drink. By the time the dumpster lid had reopened, Max had vowed never to nap in the trash again, no matter how convenient.

  And then there was the darkness. In it, everything was suddenly unfamiliar and foreign. He felt small and lonely and unprotected. Just like now.

  He began to whine again, louder and louder until he thought his heart would burst with stress and uncertainty and fear.

  There was a rustling in the corner, and the light flickered back on. The girl climbed out of bed, rubbing her eyes. She came to Max and sat down in front of his cage. She didn’t open the door to let him out, but she did press her hand up to the metal bars, letting Max lift his nose up to her palm to familiarize himself with her scent.

  “Hey, Max,” the girl said. “I know you’re scared. Every time I go somewhere new, I get scared, too.” She drew her hand away when Max licked it, her face wrinkling in disgust, but then she put it back.

  “I don’t know how long we’re going to know each other. I’ve never been in one place longer than nine months, and knowing my luck, I’ll get taken out of here just like everywhere else,” the girl continued.