They left me. My family had packed belongings into a white van and gone. As I watched the vehicle disappear around my street corner I felt sad. Chasing after them would be pointless. I could never keep up.

Over the past few weeks there were secret meetings. I heard the hushed talk; I never imagined they would up sticks and leave me alone. So here I was, outside my home for five years, sitting alone. I decided I would follow them.

Food was easy to come by. Discarded burgers, chips left on a wall, yoghurt in a bin. I would survive. Being so young I had to watch my step in the moonlit streets. Street lights illumined dark shadows as I trudged on.

The next day the sun was hot on my back, but I kept walking. Ignoring the aches in my joints and the soreness of my feet I pressed on. Passing the familiar sights of the church and smells of the Indian takeaway the miles wore on. Recognising the traffic island in the high street, I rushed over quickly. Traffic was building now.

I dodged between the pedestrians, crossing the road to the park. It was one of my favourite places to play. I had no time today. Using my best instincts, drawing upon scant memories of overheard mutterings, I crossed the road by the school.
Yes! The van was there.

Licking my paws and stroking my whiskers I made my way to our new home.