Traveling Light

Where Do You Think You're Going?

At last, Martha's wound had healed. Although she felt no pain, she still refused to go with the others to find me. Her mind was set on something else: gathering as much as possible for me in the allotted time they were gone, and make it back to me.

She wanted her Macca.

It had taken awhile to gather everything as she expected that I needed quite a lot. Unfortunately, that extra time she'd spent gathering the junk caught up to her.

Without the supplies in her mouth, she had walked out the door, but to her surprise, Linda and Heather were standing in her way.

"And where do you think you're going?" Linda questioned.

I like to think that I had a power that Linda and Heather didn't: the ability to partially read Martha's mind.

Martha had lowered her head. She'd been caught, and now she'd be punished.

"She's probably running away again, mommy..."

"No, Martha. I don't know what's gotten into you! You never used to do that! You aren't going out anywhere. Get back in the house."

She obeyed, walking to the living room sadly.

She stayed down there forever, until she heard their quiet conversation:

"What's wrong with Martha, mommy?"

"I have no idea. Whatever it is, I wish she would stop."

"Well, have you noticed that she started doing it when daddy left?"

"Wow...you're right. I guess she just misses him. I mean, she always loved him more than us."

"But what if she knows something we don't?"

"I doubt it. Going out to try to find him? I understand that. But knowing his location? Probably not. What dog is smart enough to do that?"

"That's mean, mommy."

"Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have said that. Just try to get some rest, and we'll try again tomorrow..."

Martha whined. She slept on the couch that night, debating on breaking the rules...