Strain towards the park, can you smell the must of freedom? Lean into the future, stretch your neck, urge towards the sunburnt grass. Ignore the choke of the chain as you frenzy with the possibilities; friends, food, racing, freedom. Keep your eyes keen on the sunlit spaces, the water sparkling and the far off trees with their shade and smells while you are released from your leash. And then let the air roar, your mind empty. Run with the sun on your back and the tips of the grass straining for your belly. Race on, exuberant, the wind your rabbit until your muscles ache and you slow, the initial exhilaration over.

Find where you are, in this wide flat space that you know so well as your freedom. Visit your places; the trees with the dusty earth areolas, the fallen branch with the swirl of rubbish in its crook, the bark firm and rough on your thigh as you reach underneath to interpret the history of its visitors. Inhale the stale piss musk around the saplings, bending unwillingly in the wind before you bound again, your legs pacing a rhythm marking your territory.

Turn, nose down to the smell that smells of flesh. Worry the spot until you are sure, follow the path, kriss crossed with opportunities and strange odours. Continue it to the place it is strongest. Keep your nose down, slobber dropping over dry concrete, to the small drop of concentrated meat. Snuffle it, delicious salty meat into your salivating mouth. Nose down seek more in the area until your neck is yanked to the left. “I said no, Samuel. Bad, greedy dog.

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