We took Kibo with us to the market. She followed us dutifully while we selected plants, peaches, fresh goat’s cheese. The smells of freshly grilled chicken, farmers’ sweat, and live geese and rabbits set her nostrils working overtime.
The way back, with its winding lanes, was less exciting. When we arrived at the house Kibo and I got out. I opened the gate as she jogged up the pathway.
She came running back, ecstatically licking my hand: “Look! Look! We’re back at that place where you can race through the garden!”
And dashed off again across the field.