Tabs has a wanderer’s heart. Whenever we’re on our walks together on the hill behind our house, he always wants us to go south. He gently tugs on his leash as if to say, “Let’s go that way,” and stares off in the distance toward the town of Mill Valley, which is where we used to live before we moved here.
I don’t know if it’s just my imagination, but whenever I let him lead us, he always wants us to go the same way: south.
I mean, we’ll explore the hill, and he’ll climb trees and chase birds and nibble green grass, but he’s always trying to nudge us in the same direction.
Sometimes I wonder if he would try to walk the whole way. I hope not. It’s about 20 miles, and the only way to get there is by highway, or through the open Novato hills, which are filled with coyotes and bobcats and raccoons and other animals that are wilder than Tabs.
It’s one of the reasons I’ve never felt comfortable letting him go outside here on his own — because I’m afraid he’d try to walk all the way back to Mill Valley.
He and I have been on thousands of walks here together, and no matter what, he always wants us to go south.
It makes me kind of sad… I always have to stop us before we reach the main road and say, “I’m sorry, Tabby. We can’t go that way. It’s too far,” and he pulls the leash taut and stares toward the southern horizon. 🙁
I wonder if he’s thinking, “That’s where I used to live. That’s home.”
Your friendly neighborhood beauty addicts,
Karen and Tabs