run, emily, run,

The city's been hit by a heat wave in the middle of January, so when it finally begins to drizzle, you decide to brave the wetness for a chance to get at the smell of rain.

You clip the leash onto Jacques collar (dark blue, seven shades darker than his eyes) before you start bundling yourself up. Jacques hasn't seen rain in a long time, and is anxious to get out. He watches you pull on galoshes and button buttons, yowling reproachfully when you realize you skipped a button and must start all over again.

Once you make it out the door, Jacques is all twitching nose and quivering mass and bright eyes. He tugs, pulling the leash taut as he hurries up the street. You give in a little, if only because of the element of surprise, but tug back when you regain your balance.

Jacques, you say in your warning voice.

He slows appropriately, but flashes you a look that is entirely joyful. And then you can't help but unclip the leash as soon as you reach the empty park. You take a step back to watch, dry underneath your umbrella as he stands still for quivering moment before bounding straight across the entire length of the park at full speed.

You don't worry that he might run out into the street - Jacques is smarter than that. People in their cars coo and aww at him when he sits down patiently at pedestrian walkways to wait for the chance to cross.

He tears joyfully back and forth between a triangle of trees, pausing only long enough to dig with his front paws or chase his tail or take a quick roll in the wet grass, and today, you don't even flinch.

Roll, baby, you say instead, laughing.

His ears prick at the sound, and he finishes up his game before he returns to you in that long, loping gait of wolves.

You love the way he moves, all easy grace and show posture. It was love at first sight for you, when you walked into the kennel and the first thing you saw was Jacques (then named Leonidus or some ridiculous name like that) sitting patiently with his head cocked as he observed you, but you think he may have loved you long before you walked into that adoption center.

When he reaches you he pauses to wag his tail and yip yip yip, still not too tired for games. When you only smile, he pushes his nose into your knee and takes off again, stopping short of the treeline to look back at you with adoration in his eyes.

Run Emily, he says. Run.