Someone had crossed ‘dog’ off the sign, scrawling the word ‘wolf’ in crude letters. The ‘a’ was replaced with an ‘e,’ so the sign now read, “Bewere of Wolf.”
Trug ignored the sign and trotted past the dilapidated house guarding the path to the forest.
As he crossed the forest’s outermost undergrowth, the temperature dropped and the noise and bustle of civilization grew muted. His sharp ears could still catch the sounds of humanity behind him, but his attention was on the far more interesting noises and movements of the woods.
He left the path and loped through the underbrush, ducking shrubs and leaping over downed trees. The wind whistled by his ears and the pungent smells of the woods brought a rich array of aromas he’d never encountered. Each scent was its own lavish bouquet delivered on an olfactory platter that would put the best restaurants to shame.
A small creek loomed ahead of him and without breaking stride, he effortlessly bounded to the other bank.
He felt so free … so … well… naked …
Then he spied a certain tree that cried ‘territorial marker.’
He spun to a stop, lifted a leg and shot some liquid on it.
My tree.
As he went to resume his romp, something chomped him on the leg. He skidded to a stop and nibbled at the spot. He could smell flea but didn’t get the irritating critter.
Then there was a rustle in the leaves. He whipped around and his ears jumped to attention. His nose twitched, trying to pick up scent. Another new thing. He’d never felt his nose twitch, much less been able to see it without crossing his eyes or looking in the mirror. Weird.
Ah, it was just the wind.
An errant leaf fluttered from an oak and reluctantly rode gravity towards the ground. In joyful abandon he leaped high into the air, snatching the leaf in his jaws and crunching it with canine glee.
The only thing that would be better would be if a dog, coyote or wolf showed up. He imagined sniffing its butt. Oh, what wonders. What bliss! There was so much to be learned about the world if people would only realize that the message is in the butt.
Wait, another tree. It must be marked! He spit out the leaf, lifted his leg again and squirted a bit of juice on it. Another tree for his collection.
Something broke from cover and darted through a bush.
He couldn’t see it very well, but his nose immediately put a name to the object.
A rabbit.
Trug’s golden eyes went wide and he thundered after the rabbit.