Chapter 2: Wider World

At an easy trot, I head out in the direction my family disappeared in, four days earlier.

My search begins. Soon it will be dark. Already light is fading, and twilight beginning. The sun is low on the horizon when the horizon isn’t obscured by buildings.

Data is accumulating and my nose map is expanding. Many times I have passed this way before. The map detail from those excursions is minimal, the result of rapid passage. My nose stuck in an open crack in a side window, in a speeding car, basically leaves or creates a trail of dots on my nose map. Now, I’m following that trail of dots and the surrounding geography is filling in. Ah, such glorious odors, such a wealth of information. Finally, I’m exploring, something I constantly failed to entice Virgil to do with me. I miss Virgil.

If I were to try and explain my nose map to someone who doesn’t have one, what common reference could I use to explain adequately what it’s like? A human trying to explain a computer game to me would have the same problem. With one exception. Games like Civilization, that have dark maps until you explore, could be represented to me as nose maps and I would instantly understand.

My dark map is filling up with details at an almost overwhelming rate. Learning is not only fascinating, it’s fun. Suddenly I possess ambition. My mission hasn’t changed, committed to find my family.

Congruent with that mission, is an ambition to create the most extensive nose map any dog ever had. What an idea. Has any dog before me ever even imagined such a grand idea? Some how, something tells me, it’s unlikely. Something suggests to me, I am different. Am I different than others of my species? Probably not. Doesn’t everybody think they are special? That is a huge question.

What makes that question so huge, is the first part of it. Does everybody think? Never mind about what. Smart and thinking are not synonymous. A smart dog can learn impressive tricks. Does he ever think about why he is being trained in those specific tricks? The treat reward is his justification for learning, and nothing deeper.

What do I think? Well, I’m discovering that too. Until a moment ago, I never even thought about thinking. Now I’m thinking and even self directing what I will study to learn about and think about. Curiosity is no longer my driving force to explore. Understanding has usurped pallid curiosity.

Whoa! Boundary marker scents. A pack. Skirting the perimeter is a safer course that trespassing. Barking! Apparently, the pack’s territory is significantly larger than what’s marked, and I am being challenged. Good, I intend to object to the pack policing an area beyond their marked jurisdiction. Won’t need to wait long, they are coming at a dead run and full voice. Seven or eight dogs, none larger than me. Their leader is young and scarred. Despite his youth, he is an experienced brawler. His scars testify to that. Assuming a proud dignified stance, I await inspection. After a cursory sniffing, their leader confronts me nose to nose, eye to eye. We are statues.

Two smaller sneaky sobs are trying to creep around behind me in preparation to attacking my flanks. Like lightning, I attack one then the other of my flankers, drawing blood from each, and they scurry away with shrieks of pain. I whirl to face their leader, who only moved one step forward. That step is provocation enough.