I opened my eyes to a deserted highway. Sand was rearranged on the ground by the soft breeze, which caressed my cheek as it went by. The heat wasn’t too hot to bare, but it was enough to make me take off the jacket I always wore and tie it around my waist.
I hopped up on the tailgate of my rusty black truck and swung my feet back and forth. I cranked up the volume of the old radio and hummed along, leaning back and looking at the light blue sky.
A donkey cried to my right and birds cawed all around me. The donkey quieted down and wandered over next to the truck to simply stand there and observe and I sighed, taking a deep breath.
Birds sat calmly on the wires that trailed along the sides of the highway and a tumbleweed flowed by, taken along with the wind.
I came across a smell I was familiar with: Wet dog.
I sat up and looked at the ground of the highway, coming face-to-face with a panting wolf, who’s hair was matted with a mixture of sweat and blood. I stood up and slowly walked to the back door of my truck, making sure to be careful and not scare the wolf away.
I grabbed a pack of hotdogs that I was planning on saving for myself and brought them back to the wolf, the donkey watching both cautiously and curiously. I opened the pack and threw one into the air, the dog catching it with it’s mouth and chewing with it’s mouth wide open.
I glanced over to the donkey and held my hand out for it to come to. It didn’t, of course, but I wasn’t bothered by that. I enjoyed the company. I went back to the back door of my truck, less careful this time.
I got out a sack of apples that I had previously gotten from a store back in the town where I was from, though that town was nowhere to be seen. I brought the sack of the red fruits back to the donkey and laid them at his feet. “You got a name, buddy?”
He didn’t reply. I don’t know what I expected. “How about Jack? That’s cliche enough, right?” He kicked his feet as he chomped on the apples. It was a funny name for a donkey, and it was good enough, too.
I turned my attention back to the wolf. “How about you? You got a name?” The wolf whimpered and begged for more hotdogs, and I obliged, throwing them in his mouth as I did before. “Kato.”
My husky’s name was Kato, so I figured this would be a good way to honor him, in a way. “Your name is Kato.” Kato ignored me and chowed down on the hotdogs.
And I breathed, and I relaxed, and I felt okay. The song on the radio was that of great joy, and the breeze against my skin was oh so calming. Even the donkey cries didn’t bother me, nor the wolf whimpering, nor the eagles cawing. I paid no mind to the loudness of the scene, only to the calmingness of it.
But, like a snake chasing its own tail, I was bound to end up back to where I started.