Mom had taken a keen interest in mapps ever since we had to follow our own pawprints to find the car-house. Mapps are like the Witch's version of a map.
     If you want to drive somewhere you've never been before, there's a mapp for that.
          If you want to find a free place to sleep, there's another mapp for that.
               If you want to sleep near a laundrymat or showers, there's a different mapp for that.
                    And if you want to run with your four-legged life partner without the rangers bothering you, there's a separate mapp for that.
Like anyone with a new hobby, Mom thought that knowing something meant that she knew everything. She hadn't found anything useful on the mapps yet, but that didn't stop Mom from talking like she knew the future.
She lay in bed flipping through mapps like tarot cards, studying the mysterious markings on each, then shuffling them to see how a different arrangement could change our fate.
All that time she spent canoodling with the Witch was taking away from my snuggling.
I'd had enough.
"Why don't you just listen to your heart and let fate guide you into adventure?" I asked.
"Because we kept getting lost with the duck it method," she said without looking up from the Witch's secretive glow. "All we discovered in the wilderness were some rusty old beer cans."
The way I remembered it, luck it took us to a pirate beach, a bat cave, and a portal to outer space. "And you think those lousy charts will keep us out of trouble? What ever happened to searching for adventure rather than trying to create it?"
"We still need to stay away from places with rules against sleeping in your car or using the dog bathroom, remember? There won't always be a Walmart to save us if we can't find somewhere to stay."
"Those mapps are full of trapps," I warned.
"You're just a dog. You wouldn't understand." Mom turned back to the Witch, who always tells her what she wants to hear, even when she's wrong. Especially when she's wrong. "Where should we sleep tomorrow night?"