It’s a hot, sleepless night. My bed sheets lay among the ground in a heap, banished from my bed by my rash, restless kicking. I sit up and stare out my window, the brilliant candlelight glow of the moon flooding the streets. I sigh as I pick up my sweaty body and slide on my fuzzy slippers. My front door swings open at my strong, anxious hand. The heat lightens as the pleasant summer breeze dances through my messy hair. I smile as I walk down the street, admiring the unknown outside world of night. I stop at the vacant, silent crossroads. Then a dark-cherry barn door opens slightly as I pass it. I jump at the realization that I am not alone. A young beagle rushes to my feet. Being embarrassed by getting startled from a little puppy, I blush as I pat his head and then backtrack my nighttime route to my home.

I am back at my porch when I hear little padded footsteps on the wooden stairs. I am about to shoo him away until his big, dark eyes meet mine. It was here that we understood our bond. This beautiful gold spotted dog had to be mine, and his wagging tail and soft, wet kisses showed me that I had to be his.