Adventures of Ragpuff: Episode 3 - The Decision

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The Adventures of Ragpuff: Episode 3:
The Decision

After Ragpuff had mercilessly been dumped in the gravel pit, rescued from certain death from dehydration and starvation by a large, round man living at the edge of the gravel pit, Ragpuff found a temporary home. He had food, water, shelter, and could explore the fields around the house at his leisure while his new companion worked all day in the gravel pit. The food was good, the company was good, and the hunting in the dust covered field-grass was good. Ragpuff should have been content, but he wasn't. In his dreams he longed to be back in his safe chair, behind his safe window, with the funny talking woman and the man who didn't talk much. Ragpuff was restless.

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I have forgotten how many days and nights I've been here with this wonderful, cheerful, round man, but they've been great. At dinner every night, I eat what he eats then I settle down in his lap for a good, long massage. Often he uses his back scratcher on my back like he does on his. It's a wonderful tool, this long piece of painted wood with three curved little fingers. It gets into all those ridges around my spine…all the itchy spots that plague me during the day. I know I have fleas; one can't help but get them living in such a dirt filled world as this. I even had a tick once from my many treks through the tall grass chasing down delectable little critters. The round man found it and took care of it. The fleas…well, they aren't too bad. I mean if a cat can't take a few flea bites now and again, then I guess he couldn't be all that worldly, like I am.

I think it was at the beginning of summer when I was dumped out here and found this wonderful human being. I was skinny and dirty when I first arrived, but now my fur is fully grown out, I'm very plump and I think I've even grown a few inches—I know my feet certainly have gotten bigger. I love it here. I could stay with this man forever. In fact, I think he's going to be really sad to see me go. But the days are changing and I need to move on.

The leaves on the trees are turning yellow and orange; some are starting to fall to the ground. The air feels cooler in the day and is now cold at night. I suppose I really should stay where I am. I'll be warm and safe. But I keep having these nagging dreams about my first home. And as much as I really like this man, this place, I'm lonely somehow for my funny talking woman and the man who doesn't talk much, and I've never forgotten my plan to find my way home. I could be called very foolish for making such a decision as I'm about to make, but I can't help myself. I've got to continue my journey. I need to try and find my home.

So with that decision made, I ate breakfast one last time with my good friend and gave him some really long meows, a bunch of head butts, and an extra loud rumbly purr. My way of saying goodbye. He just laughed, ruffled my fur up the way he does every morning and went out the door to his monster truck to go to work for the day. Then I left.

When I had gotten to the edge of the tall grass I looked back once more at the slightly tilted, shaggy, gray house, sitting peacefully in the shade of some rather large oak trees, then I turned my back on the place forever and darted into the field.

During all those days that the round man worked, I roamed the fields. I have become pretty adept at catching and eating my own meals. I have enough body fat stored, in fact, to last me until I find my home again. So I'm not worried about starving to death anymore. From previous jaunts through the field, I know there is a creek at the opposite edge that runs along a tree line of skinny willows and cottonwoods. I've even picked out the very tree that I'll spend my first night in.

The sun's been coming up later each day and this morning it was barely light out when I left my friend. I'll always remember him and his gentle hospitality. His wonderful backscratcher. But I have plans. I have to move on. I am going on, for as long as it takes, to find my first home.

The sun had warmed the earth pretty good by the time I got to the tree line. I took a long drink from the cool waters in the creek then climbed my intended tree. From its lofty branches I can see out over the field of grass. Off in the distances, the tops of the mountains of gravel are just barely visible. In the opposite direction I can see a black ribbon with many monster cars running up and down it. I figure that black ribbon leads to people, to houses, but I have decided it is too dangerous to follow that foul smelling track. I will follow the creek as far as I can and hope that it leads me to somewhere safe.

The trouble with being dumped out in the middle of nowhere like I was, I don't exactly have any idea where to start my journey to find home. I just know that while I was in my safe chair, behind my safe window, I watched the sun come up every morning. And since I was born in a shelter and never really got to stay long with my mother, I have no idea which way was what. At any rate, all this planning requires a lot of thought. I have gone as far as I'm going to go today.

Not only is the sun coming up later each morning, it is also going down earlier each night. Sitting in the tree, I 'm still trying to figure things out. The real question is, do I follow the sun going down, or go towards the sun coming up? If I shut my eyes really tight, maybe I'll be able to remember the things I used to see around my window when I was safe at home, and where the sun had been when I'd gotten lost and found those buildings. After some more hard thinking, I realized that the buildings I had been attracted to had the sun coming up behind them. So all I have to do now is pick a direction and stick to it. I'm pretty sure I was taken towards the setting sun that day when the lady grabbed me and threw me in that box, so I figured that maybe I ought to go towards the sun coming up. The problem is the creek. I'd like to stay near it as much as possible but it isn't running in the same direction all the time.

Well, after all that thinking, I spent the long, lonely night in the crotch of the cottonwood tree. For the longest time I missed the round man. I even thought I heard him calling me long after dark. He never gave me name, he just called me, Cat. Maybe it was all just in my head. Maybe I thought I heard his voice calling me because I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life by leaving that gentle man. I had to close my eyes tight and concentrate on my plan, or I'd give in and return to my second home in the gravel pit, and stay forever.

Shortly after opening my eyes, the sun rose up over the field and the black ribbon full of cars off in the distance. I feel pretty good about myself now, my ability to find my way home. After a quick breakfast of a few voles I'd found rummaging around the leaf litter, I took another long drink from the creek and headed along its banks in the direction of where I thought my home might be. During the day the sun was my guide. It warmed my left shoulder and flank in the morning and then my right side in the afternoon. Wherever this direction leads, it has to come to a place where people live.