Canine to Five.

If there's one thing that brings me joy, it's watching my dog shoot around the garden.

It's simple, uncluttered enjoyment for him and me. As a breed with poor recall, I never let him off the lead on a walk, but in the garden, he's free. He zips about like a nutter while I chase him, and by the time he's reached his limit, if you stand by him, you can literally hear his heart beating; it can't be healthy.

The fact my dad loved seeing it too adds to the moment. The first time I brought Elwood over, he demonstrated his version of warp speed to my dad's delight. "You couldn't have a better dog" was how he put it, and Elwood's long since proved him right; he's a shaft of pure sunlight bursting past the bad bits.

I'm writing this in the garden as we speak, watching Elwood sniff the air on a windswept day. Behind him, the only daffodil to break through the earth yawns open like a tiny, floral firework. The fact there's just one is appropriate. My dad's still smiling and watching on.

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