Heron Lake Plateau The Elgar Cello Concerto- but not Yo Yo Ma's version.

He wasn't sure what was going on, really. One moment, he'd been chilling in the back of the van, eating jerky like the fatass he wasn't; the next, his whole world had gone topsy turvy. Van on fire, the humans seemed rather still and stiff. Some way or another, he'd escaped. Milled about a while, then ran.

He was good at that. Running, you know. His mom was a superstar, and he was well on his way. That was what the trip was for, anyway. To prove himself--to make Ma proud. 

It wasn't a track, but something better. You could actually catch the rabbits out here. 

Sizzle loped, his long legs devouring ground, a speedy wanderer through the open land. This felt GOOD. No rules, no responsibilities. Just sweet freedom. God bless America. 

The scent of many canids all together had always been a sign of good things for the greyhound, so Sizzle didn't balk at the border. Rather, he was excited to smell it -- he was getting lonely, being by himself for so long. The longest period ever, he thought.  Sigh. 

He waltzed onto the plateau and saw the golden female nearby. His eyes lit up and he gave her an excited yip, rushing toward her, wanting to play. 

PLAY!?