Cruising the early Sunday morning silence is like the whole world belongs to me. Well, at least northwest Denton County. I roll through ranch land, from ridge to ridge, on gravel roads that are empty. Familiar routes, but somehow different, in a lonely sort of way.
Until this fella spots me.
From all I can see, he’s out cruising the countryside also. Without a bark or a whimper, he runs along side as if he’d been waiting for me to arrive. For a couple of miles, we travel together. But when the gravel road ends at pavement, I go on alone. Content in his place, he has no use for what the paved road offers.