#meowdy!

I grinned and turned around to the wagon. The cat was curled up on the bench, only the twitching ears and the calico fur clearly marking it as anything other than a pelt.

"Just out near the river. It jus…"

"She. Uh, calicos are usually girls, sorry go on."

"She just wouldn't stop following me, hopped on the wagon and kept getting closer."

"She friendly?"

 I shrugged. Zed walked off his porch and stretched out his hand. The cat sniffed it delicately for almost a full minute, then pushed her head into it, stretching to get more attention.

"Seems to like you enough. Wanna keep her?" I asked, trying to hide my reluctance. 

He considered it. "Nah, you keep her. She'll be something to keep you from getting cold."

Day one, the cat jumped right into the river just before sunset. I has to dry it off with my best jacket. Didn't get as far from town as I liked.

Day two, the cat spooked the horse, hissing and spitting at it, tangling the lead. It put me behind another thirty minutes. 

Day three, the cat batted a package off the back of the wagon. We had to stop to pick it up. Whatever it was, it had already broken and leaked something mighty smelly.

Day four, we reached town. I had to pay ten dollars for the broken package, straight out of my food budget.

Day five, as I thought we were making good time on the way back, a sudden storm hit just after noon. The wagon was stuck in the mud for hours, the cat yowling every second. We didn’t get to anything resembling safety 'til near dawn.

Day six was slow and toiling work as I walked before the horse, checking constantly for pits and puddles in the mud. I couldn't get a fire lit, so the cat and I crawled into the wagon, shifting the deliveries as best I could. We shared a cold supper, her delicate whiskers tickling my knuckles as we split the jerky. When I bunked down, she laid on my hip, purring to beat the storm. At least it was enough to shut her up for the night.

Day seven, the skies finally dried. I had a mind to celebrate the weather with a hot meal. I turned my back on the heating can of beans for one minute, and when I turned back the cat had stuck her whole head in. Just eating away happily. 

"EY, DAGNABIT!" 

The cat jumped, bolting back, then started sniffing towards the beans again. I charged, nearly swinging my leg into it, mercifully missing. 

"Selfish beast! This is the thanks I get isn't it!" 

The cat eyed me warily, affronted. 

"Well get along, why don't you? You ate all the damn food." 

I kicked the can of beans, sending its sparse contents flying. 

The cat began walking away, glancing back just once woefully before walking out of the firelight and into the night.

I sat before the fire shaking my head. It was for the best. A cat wasn't fit for this life, with no idea what to eat or hunt or what was valuable. They didn't get the sky or the weather or the rationing. I sat, staring at the fire until it burned out. Unable to sleep, unable to cook or eat.

Come the dawn of day eight, I packed up my things and prepared my horse. The cat was nowhere to be found. I set off on the last leg.

And as we drew near the copse of trees on the river bank, I couldn't hold it in anymore. I cried enough to make the storm clouds jealous. I boo-hooed as we went down the dirt path, I sobbed as we passed the tree line, and I bawled as we crossed the bridge. 

Suddenly, there was a thump on the wagon cover. I twisted around, looking for the offender. 

The little calico, maybe dirtier than before, poked its head over the cover, looked me in the eye and said "Meow!"

I dried my eyes real quick.

"Well, what are you waiting up there for? C'mon and sit on the bench."

She obliged, jumping with a ripping sound I knew I'd have to deal with later. We two couriers and our horse pulled into the village, chatting as best we could in our mother tongues.

Zed smiled as he saw us return. 

"Hey there! Or should I say meowdy?"

"Meow!"