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🌟 Cattle dog



Just because we were back home and didn't have a car-house anymore didn't mean the adventure had to end. I hoped.


After Mom had showered, slept in our own bed, and made a few meals in a kitchen with a roof over it, I asked, "Do people have adventures in My Hometown?"


Mom looked up from her laptop. "Not really. People only come here for business trips. But we have something better. We know about the trails that visitors don't know about. How about we go to that place in the East Bay that's always too hot and crowded?"


"You mean it?" I wiggled. "I thought we couldn't go there because there's never, ever parking. Will we drive all the way to the top? Or will we run from here?"


"I bet if we got there before 5 in the morning on a weekday we could find parking. I've never been there on a weekday because there would be too much traffic to get back in time for work. But now we can do whatever we want!"


"Even wake up super early and sit in traffic?" I wagged. "You promise?"


The next morning —which was really night— the car rolled into the car-kennel and settled into the last open spot. "Are you kidding?" Mom asked the cars on either side of us. "It's 4:30 in the morning on a Tuesday. Who the smell is out this early?"


"We're out this early," I pointed out. Mom just shook her head.


We dismounted and I sniffed the air. It was full of the warm, ripe smell of excitement and the ground was covered in poo. I couldn't tear my nose from the ground.


I could hardly tear my nose from the ground as I followed Mom from dried-out poo flake to dried-out poo flake across the car kennel. Between the smells of old grass and shoe rubber, there was a hint of something marvelous that I couldn't quite place.


Larger piles of crusty poo sat outside the people potty. I sniffed one of them carefully, but the hot smell of people poo drowned out everything else. When Mom was done, we walked over to the trail, where fresh gobs of it dotted the ground.


Mom took a step to start running, but I was busy investigating a pile that still had the faint whiff of the butt that it came from. She pulled on the leash impatiently, but I pulled her to heel.


"Mom!" I said urgently, trying to hold my tail still so it wouldn't scramble the clues hanging in the air. "A cow's been here!"



"Yeah, I know," Mom said, like it wasn't the most exciting thing in the world. "Come on, we've got to hurry if we want to get to the top by sunrise."

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