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Shadow snuffled, drawing the cool air deep, tasting the flavor of the paving stones. His own signature odor and that of September remained fresh, where they’d recently trod this path from the back garden. Cat smell drifted from the door, and he cast first right and then left in a semicircle, seeking the odor that identified Macy like a name-tag.
In his before-life, when he lived with his-boy at that other house, he’d learned what to do only because September visited and taught him what a good-dog should know. She taught him what special words and hand signals meant, like “sit” and “heel” and “come” and called him “good-dog” more than anyone else. Shadow liked to learn, liked hearing the “click” noise September used to tell him he’d done something right. He worked and worked, so hard it made his head hurt, to show September he could be a good-dog so she wouldn’t ever leave him behind again.
She’d left him behind in his before-life, and he didn’t like that, not at all. He still worried sometimes that he’d be left behind. He’d finally found his family. It was a good-dog’s job to stay with his family—even cats could be family—teach them how to laugh and play fun games that kept dogs and their people from feeling bad.
Nobody taught him that. Shadow figured it out all by himself. He was smart that way.
The hide-and-seek game made September laugh and call him ‘good-dog’ a lot. He wagged at the thought, and huffed another breath. It wasn’t as exciting as Frisbee-chase, but finding Macy always prompted the cat to make interesting noises.
When he’d first come to live with them, Macy scared Shadow with paw-thumps as he raced by, until he figured out that was cat language for wanting to play. Macy-talk confused him, but he learned quickly. He figured dog-talk confused cats, too.
He liked to steal Macy’s mouse toy, a guarantee Macy would play with him. That game he invented all by himself. Macy slept with the toy and the aroma of cat fur and spit smelled almost as good as the real thing. So far, Macy only allowed long distance sniffs. Shadow was certain if he played the game right, he’d get to sniff Macy up close and personal, push his nose deep into the cat-fur-body, and not have to make do with second hand sniffs. Wouldn’t that be fine!
September missed out on lots of smells and sounds that made the world such an interesting place. Shadow figured that the hide-and-seek game was a way for her to understand. It made him happy he could teach her, like she taught him. Family helped each other like that.
Shadow found nothing on the sidewalk, so he began pulling steadily toward the front of the house, towing September behind. The tug of the long line at his shoulders provided a direct physical connection with September he relished. Tension vibrated the line, more than when they’d played hide-and-seek in the house. It puzzled him that he couldn’t immediately target Macy-smell but maybe the game had changed? September did that; made simple tasks harder to test him. He liked surprising her with success. His tail swept back and forth at the happy thought.
At the front of the house, September asked him to sniff bushes along the windows on both sides of the entry steps, even though he found no Macy-smell. He did find interesting bunny stuff, and a place where two raccoons had slept for a time, but no evidence of the cat.
For the first time, Shadow worried he might fail the test. He trusted that September knew lots of things, more things than a good-dog could discover, so it must be his fault he couldn’t find Macy-smell. He didn’t want to let her down.
From there he ranged back and forth on the hard circle pathway where cars arrived and left. Shadow liked cars. He got to ride in the back of September’s car and stick his nose out to taste rushing wind when she made it go fast. He’d rather stick his whole head out, but the narrow opening wouldn’t allow more than the tip of his nose. The pavement spoke of bird droppings, people shoes and coyote urine. Shadow’s hackles bristled a bit, wanting to track the interloper. But he resisted the urge to pee over the mark, and concentrated on the job.
The garden-man’s truck sat to one side, and it smelled of chemicals and mice poop and green growing things. But no cat. He spent several moments huffing and testing spore surrounding the vehicle anyway. He paid particular attention to the doors, and even jumped into the back of the truck to see if Macy had found a hidey-hole inside. Macy did that a lot, finding and curling up to sleep in tiny places a good-dog wouldn’t fit. He snuffled up potting soil and dust that coated stacked bags, and sneezed twice before he hopped back out onto the ground.
September pointed underneath, and he sniffed a second time but found no Macy-smell, only the trail of the garden-man’s boots. He whined and stared at September’s face. Had Macy stopped smelling like Macy? How could that happen, for a cat to become invisible to smart-dog noses? Maybe this was a game he couldn’t win.
Deep lines in September’s forehead spoke of worry. Tension in her hand fed down the line and made his shoulders clench. Shadow’s tummy hurt at the thought he might fail the test. He had to find Macy. Then the cat would hiss and paw-pat his face, September would laugh and stroke his brow and call him ‘good-dog.’
“Shadow, seek Macy.” She held out the cat’s toy again for him to sniff. He licked it, too, in case that made a difference, but Macy-smell must still be the same. September’s voice sounded fearful. He understood this wasn’t the usual game, and sniffed Mickey again to please her. Nose-to-ground hadn’t worked, though, so instead he lifted his face into the breeze.
His mouth opened and he panted quietly, sorting the threads of scent that tangled the breeze. Some were neon bright and shouted for attention while others barely nudged the itchy smell-center deep inside his muzzle.
He turned his head around, huffing out and discarding those that held no bearing, and—there! He came to attention, nose poised with purpose, and inhaled deeply, holding and tasting and teasing out the one thread that came oh-so-close to what he sought.
Cat. He’d found cat smell. He turned to September, and she’d already read his intent, and her half smile mirrored his anticipation at winning the game. That was the puzzle! She wanted him to find this other cat, and Macy-smell was the clue.
He pulled hard, letting his nose lead him to the origin of the cat scent, tugging September in his wake until she had to trot to keep up.
“Good-boy, Shadow! That’s it!”
Her happy tone spurred his paws faster until they were both running down the long car path to the front gate. He slowed momentarily when he reached the strange car half in the ditch and crushed against the gate. Two of the doors swung open, and he took a moment to compare the scent he’d found on the breeze to the one strongest in the back seat of the car.
“Shadow? What’re you doing, boy? Seek Macy, your kitty. Macy. Please, let it be Macy you’re tracking!”
He didn’t let her worried tone slow him down. Scent firmly in his brain, Shadow obeyed the command to find the lost cat. Nose barely skimming the ground, he located the freshest paw-treads.
Sick, the cat smelled scared and sick, not like Macy at all. Maybe that’s why September wanted it found. He pulled hard to follow the trail, towing her so fast behind she stumbled and he had to slow down so she could keep up. The cat had run from the car across the road into the bushes of the nearby field. Shadow dug in his paws, leaping ahead with excitement that the goal was so close.
