The tall food-giver with two legs and head-fur the color of the sun is speaking. Her words escape from her mouth in an unintelligible rush, but my large ears hear Gussy! and Walk! and I immediately jump up and rush to the exit of the den.
I wag my tail excitedly as the food-giver approaches, and when she arrives, I leap up, placing my front paws on her chest. She laughs and scratches behind my ears as I lick her face.
Barking, I drop from the food-giver’s chest and run around her feet in circles, tripping over the paw-covers that the food-givers use to walk in. I can never understand why I’m not allowed to chew them; it doesn’t seem fair that my food-givers can have them and I can’t. Sometimes, when the tall food-giver or the male one with no head-fur aren’t watching me, I play with their paw-covers. I have a secret corner that is filled with paw-covers I’ve taken from them, and when they aren’t looking, I chew them up, and sometimes I even eat them. They have a surprisingly rich taste, almost like the smelly cheese I stole from my food-givers a few days before the last full moon.
I watch as the food-giver moves toward the exit of the den. It’s a flat tree attached to the inner walls, and I wonder how the tree can grow inside the den, and why it’s so flat. I’ve never seen flat trees outside. Maybe they’re a special species that don’t grow anywhere except inside my food-givers’ den.
The tall food-giver opens the flat tree and steps outside, pulling on the rope attached to my neck-loop (which is also off-limits to chew, unfortunately). I bound outside, nose twitching as I breathe in the spring air. It smells sweet, like flowers and new grass, and I have a sudden urge to roll on the ground and bark at all the smells assaulting my delicate nose, but the tall food-giver is holding the rope and I can’t get away from her.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a rabbit freeze as it stares at me in alarm. I go still as well, watching as it slowly blinks at me and then hops in the other direction. I crouch, straining against the rope the tall food-giver is holding, hoping I can race after the rabbit. I don’t want to catch it―I just want the thrill of the chase. I love running and feeling the wind against my face, and rabbits are so fast and agile.
I leap forward, pulling the tall food-giver’s arm as I try to break free from the rope constraining my movement. She cries out, startled, and the rope slips from her paw. As soons as the tension of the rope is lifted, I run towards the rabbit, barking in my excitement.
The rabbit’s strong hind legs propel it forward, and soon we’re racing across the path that the food-givers walk on. I start to overtake the rabbit but then it dives into a bush and escapes into its burrow. Exhausted and delirious from the adrenaline-filled run, I lay down in the shade of the bush, panting and smiling up at the sun.
The tall food-giver walks up to me and grabs my rope. She sounds stern and disappointed, but I don’t care. The warm spring air and rabbit chase have put me in such a happy mood, and I don’t think anything could make me gloomy right now.
The beauty of spring is infectious, and soon the tall food-giver is smiling as well. We walk together past other food-giver dens and enjoy the birdsong and beautiful smells. Eventually, the heat makes me pant, and I pull the tall food-giver back to our den so I can drink water and lay in the shade. I’m tired but happy, and I hope that this walk is the first of many on this beautiful spring day.