Mornings grow lighter now that winter’s passed. She lifts her head by fading moon and sees how shapes match scent and sound at last; no more bright shining orb she howled at loudly through the night.
The owner clips the leash and leads her out. New growth’s sweet green and dew-tipped mud slip soft between her toes while squirrels hide and birds glide merrily. Her fellows prance and sniff delightedly.
“Home now,” the owners cry and lead her back. Inside she shakes the water from her fur, lies on the sofa where she’ll sleep again, till night, till their return.