Scratching at the Dust
The black dog kicked sand backward with his hind paws, his claws raking two deep trenches into the campsite dirt.
He circled the white plastic square laid flat against the ground, his nose tracing the edge where the plastic met the loose earth. A sharp bark broke from his chest as he sprang sideways, his tail held high and stiff in the mountain air.
He dropped his snout flush against the perimeter. He sniffed along the rim, inhaling deeply enough to draw fine grains of dirt against his nostrils.
He paced in tight turns around the opening, eyes locked on the dark gap beneath the white rim. Each time he shifted, his paws kicked up tiny clouds of dust.
A Watchful Stance
Heavy footsteps pressed into the pine needles nearby. A man in work boots and a navy t-shirt walked away from the wooden picnic table, crossing the clearing toward the sandy patch.
The dog did not run to meet him. Instead, the animal pulled his hind legs under his body and sat firmly on the dirt, positioning his chest directly across from the white lid.
His ears tilted forward into sharp points. His dark eyes remained fixed on the small shadow beneath the front edge of the plastic board.
The man slowed his pace as he reached the edge of the pit. He planted both feet in the dirt, towering over the square covering, his hands resting loose at his sides.
In the silence of the campsite, two dark nostrils poked outward into the morning sun from the narrow lip beneath the plastic.
Lifting the Surface
The man bent his knees and reached both hands forward, curling his fingers under the smooth plastic ridge. His watch caught the sunlight as his grip tightened.
He lifted the white panel straight upward, tilting it away from the ground to open the cavity below. A deep circular burrow scooped out of the earth came into full view.
Down in the cool shadows of the dugout sand sat a tiny creature with jet-black fur and floppy ears. The small puppy looked upward, blinking against the sudden brightness flooding down into the pit.
The older dog stayed seated, his head lowering slightly to bring his nose within inches of the subterranean burrow. His tail began a rhythmic sweep against the dry ground.
The puppy pushed its front paws against the sloping sand walls of the hole. With an awkward scramble, it pulled its small torso up over the rim of the earth.
Joining the Pack
The older dog leaned in immediately, touching his black nose to the puppy’s velvet ear. The little pup wobbled forward on soft legs, its small tail vibrating in rapid circles.
The man stood tall, holding the white plastic lid by his side. He turned toward the green tent pitched between the tall pine trees and began walking across the camp clearing.
The puppy stumbled forward behind the man’s boots, shaking fine dust from its coat. The adult black dog matched the little one’s short strides, walking shoulder to shoulder as they headed toward the trees.
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