I like walking behind Gracie, feeling the lead loosen every few feet or so, watching her sniff and sniff (sometimes open-mouthed) along a stone or branch or tiny stem and leave her own territorial mark, admiring the way she throws her nose and face into a pile of leaves to root around for something living that she never (thankfully) produces or rummages upwards.
Her pleasure is mine.
I borrowed her today while her human's human ran an errand, and I got the better of the bargain.
|Gracie wants to be an archaeologist when she grows up, a desire she proved in front of the site of Rebel's Rest, which burned several years ago. She should consider an apprenticeship under the direction of the University archaeologist, who, with students and community volunteers, has been digging up the grounds where the structure once stood. Whether digging for gold or mole, I cannot say, as Gracie produced neither valuable nor vermin.|