Joyful abandon fills the air as I kick the pile of leaves. The dog pounces and misses. Again. And again. Tail wagging wildly, eyes fixed on my feet. My spirit soars with the dry leaves. This dog is an autumn dog. Coat russet brown, blending into the bracken as we walk. Running ahead then returning to base. Pausing to be put on the lead at the roads – obviously a well-trodden way. Passing down a quiet street, turning sharp left – and there it is – the sea. The dog pulls slightly in her eagerness. Released, she heads straight for the waters edge. No hesitation. In she goes, paddling away. Sticks are found and thrown. Swimming through the water to retrieve them, coming into shore with a big shake of her fur. Again. And again. Simple delight. Until there are no more sticks to be found in this place. We turn and head back, along the woodland path. Smells and sounds abound – ears perk up, nose glued to the ground. Rabbits to be chased, squirrels to be pursued. More leaves to be attacked. One happy, wet dog makes its way home.