Dog's nose is dry as the dust laden lanes, so we drive
to the river path. Common sense also chooses wading over walking, so at the
river we are straight in, sliding on rocks till we're swim-deep, swimming till
knees knock on rocks. Dog tacks from bank to bank, tail wagging like a loose
rudder. We ogle the writhe and wring of tree roots, the sense of serpentine
motion. We cheer when jumping fish full breech. All the way to the bay of the
Oak Dragon these adventurers press, and each jumps twice from his whiskery
nose. Each jump has a wooden nod. Even Dog clambers on the arched oak back and
makes her own splash.
Back at home, Cat's food bowl mysteriously empties.
Dog feigns a modicum of surprise, then sleeps in the shade of the little fir
tree.
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