I don't know where to begin.  We left California together in the alpha female's car.  The car is something so remarkable, I'm not sure she appreciates what it means to me to have access to this thing that can speed across land.  The smells alone, whooshing in through the window...

We left the place we lived for 35 dog years and headed south.  Yes, I know directions.  Probably better than you and by their smell.  We stopped somewhere that was very hot.  I got out of the delightfully cool air in the car, and got right back in.  I know uninhabitable when I feel it.

The next stop was better.  We got out of the car and quickly into a cool room with a carpet that smelled like many of my people.  I sniffed every inch of it.  We ate.  And then we slept.  The next morning it was the car again.

This pattern continued for many days, until I thought this was our new life, but then, a new den.  Familiar things were brought in: the rug which carried more of my scent then her weak nose realized; the sofa she didn't know I slept on; and her bed.  (Mine traveled with us.) By all of this, I deduced (yes, we deduce.  Please.) we were home.

We have been together for 70 years now, more or less, and despite long trips across unimaginable miles of territory, she always manages to find a pleasant place for my bed, my water bowl, my food bowl, and my toys.  Life is good.