From The Cordelian Chronicles:

Joni digitally flipped through the recent photos on her camera. Flip, flip, flip. The majority were of a brown dog, 55 pounds or so, running around, chasing a tennis ball, rolling around on the ground with the tennis ball, and so on. She deleted most of these. A few were of individual trees and their first flowers of the spring; she kept these, with plans to have Kelly identify them when she returned home.

She looked over at the panting dog lying on the ground next to her, a slobber-covered tennis ball between her paws.

“Good Bramble,” Joni said. “Who’s a good dog?”

To judge by the tail-wagging, it appeared that Bramble thought that it might be her, that she might be a good dog. Joni stood up, latched the leash on to her canine companion, and climbed the few steps onto the gazebo. A couple of museum-goers, clutching bags from the gift shop, were moving off.

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