I prepare the ground. I look into this corner then that. I gather some ingredients. Look! I say to Daisy, I am reading. She buffs my hand away from the pages. And I am struck by Daisy’s flight, as we walk together. She jumps and skips like a lamb. Is the grass too tall to see over? She hurtles away, her little legs compensating for some unevenness, a slight meander to her fiery trail. Daisy is searching. Afterwards, her trail will have no hold on the world. The fire will have burnt itself out. This is why dogs haven’t developed iPads or cured diseases or discovered the past. But oh to search through the long grass in a delicious dream of sweet forgetting! My pace has slowed behind her. I can’t help but notice. I have returned to the old paths but (I drop to the earth with thanks) Daisy is somewhere new.