As a golden retriever mixed with a German Sheppard, her coat was short, dirty blonde and in a course texture. The shorter fur framing her face and down her neck to her abdomen were softer and smooth. Her velvety ears flopped around, often upturned, exposing her sensitive ears. Her erratic tail was of average length, often wagging frantically in amusement. Yet, when she is hot upon a scent or the shark chatter of squirrels, her tail would momentarily freeze as she assessed the new environment. Her four paws, constantly roaming, bring her body here and there were long and smooth, of a sprinter.
Once in an fenced in yard, she would sprint across the expanse, running in circles, stopping under a tree to inspect its roots, then dart away as a new sound is introduced, stopping at the door of the fence, or by a patch of grass. Looking at me with cocked eyebrows, her blue leash in her mouth, she would plead silently to play a game of tug-a-war. Jumping around, prancing with her leash purposely flailing in the air, she would pounce on it, and drag it across the muddy ground, ever closer to my hand. Yet, if I made so much as a look towards a leash, she would simply tug the rope away, like a dragon hoarding its store of gold and jewels. Chasing after the rope, she would take off, turning around once in a while, with her tail wriggling and a snort at my slow moving form, she would taunt me with the leash, out of her mouth, right in front of her. Managing to snag the rope, I would hold onto it as both hound and I are brought to a breathtaking halt, mostly on my half. Confused at the sudden immobility, the canine would turn, clamp her teeth on the leash and tug, pulling back, as I resisted. As her grip on the leash loosens, she would adjust her grip, opening them slightly to gain better purchase of the fibrous material, a perfect opportunity to flick it out of her mouth. Without missing a beat, she would charge and lunge at the rope, leaping if it was to far up, until she felt her teeth snap shut on the rope in a satisfying clack. Once I let go, she would take off with her prize and find a suitable spot to flop town and tear at the rope, savoring her success.
As she returns into the house, she would make a beeline for the couch, although we have reprimanded her and told her to stay off. Stubborn as a water bison, she would leap on and join me after an exhausting walk, fumbling around a bit, before deciding to slump into a heavily breathing ball, her head resting on my lap. Caressing the top of her head, her eyes would droop down, but she always struggled to keep awake, like a head strong toddler refusing to admit that they were tired. Yet, every movement never escapes her observant eyes, as she watches us approach her cage, at the other side of the room. Feeling neglected, she would join us in a call for attention, as we coax her to enter her cage with toys and treats. Although reluctant to do so, the exertions of the day finally took its toil on her as she finally succumbs to the softness of her bed.
On the day that she had to leave, her tails wagged in anticipations as my friend, her owner, came back. Being let out of her cage, she circled around excitedly, nuzzling her way into a hug. Whining to go home, she lead our party towards the car, with an uncanny knowledge of the vehicle that would bring her home. Without hesitation, she bounded into the car, impatiently waiting for everyone to board. As my friend's car speed away into the night, a head of a dog turned around to face me, a blue leash hanging form her mouth.
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