A shape in the mist
From out of the mist
there appeared a shambling shape
baleful eyes staring
“Ah there you are Sandy,” Annabel exclaimed excitedly. She rushed over and hugged the poor dog’s shaggy neck which was dripping with moisture from the mist and his husky, panting breath. “We’ve been so worried about you, you mustn’t ever run off again even if there are lots of interesting smells to investigate.” She knew that she couldn’t really be angry with him, being so relieved that he had come back. “Right, let’s get back to the car and I’ll give you a lovely rubdown and get some of this mud off of your legs. Then we will go back to the cottage and get you in front of the fire, you silly boy.”
So great is the love
of a person for their dog
relief quells anger
When the pen takes control. 