There is a border collie here, Tucker, who barks at the other dogs to get them to run so that he can herd them. He tries this on Tallulah, and she shies away; she just wants to smell the grass. He tries this on Opus, and Opus takes a step back and returns to standing still.

This frustrates Tucker. He lives to tell other creatures where they can and can't go. He therefore does not know what to make of a dog that isn't going anywhere.

It’s tough to boss someone around who just wants to stand still and smell the grass.

Opus and Tallulah love the dog park. They'll walk together, following a trail, and then one will break off as if they are each driving on a highway and one wants to get off on an exit to check out a roadside attraction.

They never get too far apart. One of them will trot to catch up and the other slows down, lingering on a scent. Then they are once again walking side by side.

I sit quietly and let my gaze go from one place to another. I let sounds drift into my ears.

A woodpecker is going to work on a tree to the right of me. In my mind he is part of a team of contractors framing out a home for a family of birds. The dog park is right next to an airport, so I'm constantly hearing the sound of propellers.

Sometimes Opus and Tallulah stop, tails wagging, and stand as if they're in a fragrance museum and are deciding which exhibit to examine next.