I’m sitting on the mountaintop, my chest heaving with the exertion, my dog half dead beside me, poor thing, I forgot she had such tiny little legs compared to mine. She doesn’t seem to mind, though. She crawls up onto my lap and licks at the tender skin that lines my wrist, her tongue crossing the little valleys of the vein, such an intimate and loving touch.
And we watch the sun set on the valleys. It showers down in twinkling rays of gossamer light, brushing up against the siding of the canyons, lingering there on the branch of a tree.
Her tongue is lolling out from the side of her mouth; I swear I catch a smile upon her face. Her tail wags slightly, her head lounges on those perfect paws I love to kiss. They smell like earth. The little grains of soil clinging to the soft padding of her velvet feet now rest upon my lips.
We are both content. Content to watch the sun sink before us, content to trace the brush strokes of the amber hues of setting day streak across the sky.
And it is quiet. No words need speaking here this is a sacred time for each of us. While I am thinking of the wonders of the universe she is licking at her lips, contemplating the delights of kibble and a warm sleeping bag, where she will curl up against my arching form and sleep the night away.
Her fine, soft hairs will tickle at my ribs and her warm breath will alight upon my skin. And the aching of our joints will mingle together in the night, composing great symphonies of regrowth.
Just a girl and her dog. Just a dog and her girl. Traveling this vast world of ours, meandering like valley streams upon the surface of the earth. Is there anything else?