My dog Simon likes to poke around the back edge of the yard where we’ve let the bushes grow to tree size. There’s enough room between the bushes and the fence for a leafy, little-dog-sized tunnel. He uses his tunnel to patrol the fence line for chipmunks and squirrels and occasionally exchanges barks with neighbor dogs or puts nose to ground if something smells interesting.
Today he got me thinking of childhood summer days I spent with friends in the woods bordering the neighborhood school. I hadn’t thought of those woods in quite some time. We felt safe and closed off from the world, spending hours acting out made-up adventures beneath the trees.
I wonder what Simon thinks of on his patrols? Does his tunnel seem as magical to him as my woods did to me?