Far from Home

My daughter and I were taking a walk through the summer landscape when all of a sudden there was a loud and imperious meow coming from the wheat field by the road. We were quite surprised - a cat that far away from the village?

Another loud meow and some rustling in the middle of the field so we called for the kitty. The meowing and rustling got closer and closer - and who did appear at the edge of that field in the middle of nowhere at last? George!

At first he followed us home from his own free will but as it was in the middle of the afternoon and rather warm (at least for someone wearing a fur coat) he flopped down in the shade at the first opportunity and refused to walk on. My daughter and I then took turns carrying that warm and purring bundle of fur home.

If George was my kid and not my cat this would have been the moment I would have bought him a mobile phone so that he can call me when he is lost somewhere far from home and needs to be picked up.

And the next time he is gone for two days I will not only worry that he was hit by a car but also that he might have gone on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.