Wheeling Gull Isle when life’s moving too fast, we can make this dream last

“Okie!” He jumps, “Bookay! Okie!” He turns and waddles off a ways, peering out into the lush purple sway of forest, enclosed in his mother’s scent.

Oh! But he had forgotten something!

He pads back to where his father rests, lifting one paw and placing it against his forearm to get his attention.

“Papa?” He peers alllll the way up until he can see his father’s eyes looking back at him.

“I lub you.”