PORTRAIT OF A DOG

Note. We did not have her ears cut like that. She was an abandoned dog and her first owner had it done and deprived her of her tail, too. It is done to make them look fierce and so that nobody can see them wag their tail. Too cruel.

I went down to the woods this morning and into the heavy mists. This one went with me, silent as the night, swift as the wind. She was taut and alert. I heard a tree crash in the distance; a pine cone crashed to the ground right beside us.
When I decided to turn back, I discovered I
was lost. Ridiculous. I was not far from the house but I could see nothing but the trees and the mist. Panic! Sound was muffled by the fog. My feet were cold and wet. It flashed through my mind that one day I would be found, nothing but a skeleton clutching a camera.

This one, Cloud, stood beside me, waiting for instructions when surely, she knew which way to go. I decided to move up but I went, of course, in the wrong direction. Cloud started moving along at last and at a good pace. I followed. What was the worst that could happen? She could be going in the wrong direction. Wrong. The worst that could happen was a wild boar crashing out of the woods. Cloud's did her thunderous growl. The boar turned and crashed in the other direction.

Well, obviously, we made it home. When I put all of the pictures on the computer I discovered I had at last got the longed-for shot of a glistening water droplet with the reflection of the flower in it. It's the kind I make an instant favourite. Somehow, this last shot I took of Cloud just before we came into the house won. Dogs do that.
By request: Raindrops