A tiny heartbeat in a woven basket, dreaming of open fields and endless games of fetch before his eyes even opened.
The world was vast and full of smells. Every fallen leaf was a treasure, and every butterfly a fleeting friend to chase.
Waiting by the glass door became a daily ritual. The sound of a familiar engine returning home was the greatest symphony.
Sand in the paws, salt in the breeze. Those summer days were pure freedom, racing the waves until the sun dipped low.
Now, the fireside is the favorite spot. The legs are slower, but the tail still wags at the sound of a familiar, loving voice.