The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, tinting the garden surrounding the house with gold, and right on the threshold of the back door, a furry, vibrant body tense in anticipation. Its ears perked up with a slight alertness, and its tail, thick and lush like a living fan, began to swish with uncontrolled force. The Golden Retriever had picked up that familiar sound: the rustling of keys, the creak of the gate opening, footsteps he would recognize even among a million. His chest swelled with a gasp of air as his whole body entered a kind of delicious trembling, the kind of trembling that only manifested itself in the most sublime moments: when she returned. Without waiting for an order, not even a clear signal, he launched himself forward, his paws barely skimming on the polished wooden floor.

Then the world disappeared. There were no more trees, no sounds of cars, no birds singing; Only that human figure he adored with an almost sacred devotion. The golden retriever launched into full speed, his entire body transformed into an arrow of happiness. He stood on his hind legs with all the clumsiness of a large puppy, burying his muzzle against her legs, sniffing, memorizing again the scent of her fur, pushing her with the weight of his body as if by doing so he could merge with her and never separate. His tail never stopped moving for a second, as if with each flick it was trying to tell her everything he couldn't utter. He buried his face against her stomach, then against her hands, and finally spun around her, like a small golden whirlwind, circling endlessly to make sure she was real, that she was there again. He was with her. And to him, that was the whole world.