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One morning when she opened the front door to go out and pick up the newspaper, I kind-of wedged my snout into the opening of the door in front of her and made as if to go outside. I hadn't been outside since Brenda had first let me in with the groceries, more than two weeks back. My ability to use the bathroom facilities had limited my need, and Brenda, whether deliberately or not, had kept me indoors the whole time.Maybe she was afraid that, if she let me out, I'd run away."Do you want to go and get the paper?" she asked me that morning.I shook my head up and down, signifying a clear-cut "yes." This gesture, alone, was pretty damned impressive, for a dog, but Brenda was past being shocked by such things. She apparently decided that I wouldn't run away if she let me out, and she opened the door and stood there while I retrieved the paper. I took care not to slobber on it, and quickly brought it back and handed it over."Good boy!" she said.Well, hell. I really was a good boy. Sure, I. Sitting by the fire she loosened her braids, standing up she bent over. Her long thick hair came cascading onto the ground. Standing back up straight her hair flew in a water fall effect of sheer beauty. Framing her face she was beautiful. Sitting back down she allowed her mind to think of the Indian Village she was going to. When the mountain closed the thunderous sound was a water fall of immense portions. It always made her and Ghost to bow their heads. The azure blue sky brings tears to her eyes. The clouds are billowy, whiter than a winters snow. The grass is emerald green, flowers shooting high, bright colors. Sprinkling their path, was white rocks as translucent as a fine pair of pearls. Normally she was met by an honorable Brave. This trip would be different she would make the journey to their land, alone. Coming over the rise she could hear the children laughing, see them running. Most of the women would be cooking or laundry in the pool of blue. Always fire burning, scents.
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