I’d been offered membership in the Highsteppers, which was a great honor that I appreciated. But I knew which side my Pounce was buttered on and I knew the Feeder must be looking for me. I scoured the hillsides, searching for the home I’d accidentally run from.

Here’s the truth, which no cat wants to admit. We long to be outdoors; we long to run and jump and prance and play. But . . . and here’s the secret . . . you can’t let us out.

Because we can’t always find our way back.

I was one of the lucky ones. I never gave up. I knew how much the Feeder must be missing me, and I couldn’t have that. But then? I found the ladies. Or rather, they found me . . . But that’s a story for a different day.

I knew my people would be so happy to see me, they’d not deprive me of my new lady friends. Now those ladies were safely tucked into a pallet constructed of blankets underneath the coffee table. The Tall One had originally put the bed right out in the open, but I tugged it under the table, knowing my ladies were used to sleeping under more cover. That’s the difference between being smart and being street-smart. The mean streets of Sossa Leeto had taught me that.

I continued to check the perimeter, monitoring a tree branch that was making an unpleasant scratching sound against a window on the east side. Not an immediate threat, but I’d keep my eye on it. I made my way into the dining room, facing down the window that had led to my greatest and most harrowing adventure of my nine lives. I tested the repair; it seemed solid. I gazed at the outside, which had always seemed so big and beautiful and full of excitement. It was.

But now, as I turned to look out over this quiet space, inside, full of nooks and crannies to nap and bathe and run and play, I realized that this was a great adventure as well.

I truly was wise beyond my ears.

Chuckling at my own joke, I left the window and made my way upstairs. As I passed my ladies, I could hear their deep breathing; they were sound asleep. I’d tuck myself in with them soon. I had a spot on the back of my neck that needed cleaning, and it was so much easier to group bathe.

Entering the room of the Feeder and the Tall One, I regarded their sleeping forms. Nothing had changed while I’d been gone, I was pleased to see. The Tall One was curled into a ball on one side, the Feeder sprawled out like a starfish. I’d seen one of those in the saltwater.

Jumping onto our bed, I sat on the pillow between them, wanting a moment with my people. Stretching out so that my front paws rested on the Feeder’s forehead, my back paws touching the Tall One’s chin, I at last relaxed.

I was home.