We’re on the road again. I can never see where we are going, but I trust my mom. I am curled up in the passenger seat with my paws on two pillows mom has propped up on the floorboards for me, so my paws are even and comfortable. I look up at her as she drives. Eyes are straight ahead, her left hand is gripping the steering wheel and a cigarette, and her right hand is resting on my hip. Occasionally she diverts her eyes to me and tells me she loves me.

I see mom cry a lot. She’s always done that, and I like licking the salty water from her face. There used to be some people who came around who loved me too and would feed me a lot of treats. I don’t know where they went. Sometimes mom offers up random bits of information to me, insinuating that she’s bad…but I don’t believe her.