A dolphin amongst corn, your ears praise the earth as they dance with each jump. Released into the fields, you seem to absorb the golden rays, and overwhelmed with light, release them the only way you know how…speed.
Through high grass and over ditches full of thick black mud which sticks to the fingers like Marmite recently spread on toast. Running so far you almost can’t be seen, yet always returning at the last second.
“Did you see how fast I went? Did you see me jump that gap? Did you see the size of that stick?” Amazing what can be said with the wag of a tail.
It’s at times like this, despite the smell of fermented leaves, that I most want to press my fingers through your soft fur. Stroke beneath your chin in that place which always makes your ears twitch. Who said happiness can be controlled.
– – E.M. Wragg
E.M. Wragg hails from Essex, England. You can usually find him waxing poetic on the streets of London or at home watching movies with his dog. He’s currently working on his first children’s book.