Clara followed without stopping for her coat or walking cane. She saw Bubbles pass beneath the gate and disappear behind parked cars. Calling his name produced no response. She searched neighboring gardens while workers checked underneath their equipment. Within minutes, the white tail she had glimpsed seemed impossibly far away.
She returned for his metal bowl and tapped it with a spoon. The familiar sound usually brought Bubbles running from anywhere nearby. That afternoon, it echoed without producing so much as a meow. Clara continued walking, although every hurried step sent pain through her unprotected knees and hips.