How great would it be to be a dog?
He runs while the wind plays games on his over sized gums.
Smiling with teeth hanging out, a tongue with as much freedom as the wind.
The lake only makes his fling with nature a little more effortless.
Being a pup he's "safety first". He only goes as far as his feet will touch.
Black hair so shiny and feet so muddy.
He's happy.
He's a dog running down the lake beach.
He's in his own world.
Not even me yelling his name when he goes too far can take him from this trance.
He's our rotti.
He's our Sargy.
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