Small Stone

The creek is low today, and the stink of marsh mud is irresistible to the pup. She cycles through various ridiculous poses, attempting to make contact despite the taut leash. I have planned my day, and am already dressed for town. My clean shoes are fixed to the dry, firm bank. The pup glares at me before sullenly joining me on the path.

Efficiency is not impressive to a dog.

Seconds later, she is at my side, nuzzling my hand . Living only in the present, she holds no grudge.

(today’s entry for the 2013 Mindful Writing Challenge)

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