Every day, rain or shine or snow (if it’s not too deep or icy), Zinnia and I go outside.

I have one of those throw-it balls that work well to throw the ball far and spear the thrower from bending over a hundred times. Labs live to chase balls, I don’t permit it in the house, they turn into ball pests, but once a day, in the same place, it has become a cherished ritual for both of us.

This is Zinnia’s favorite thing next to plowing through a muddy and smelly swamp. Zinnia is not built for long-distance running; like Fate is, she’s bred to run through swamps and brush to retrieve ducks and quail.

I throw the ball for as long as she can handle it, more extended in cool weather, shorter in hot weather. Sometimes she is wheezing so hard I worry about her; I keep a hose nearby to hose her down if she seems too hot.

She pants heavily for about a half-hour after we come in and drinks about a gallon of water. When she’s breathing more calmly, we go into my study, and she keeps me company while I write.

Zinnia never loses the ball in the brush.

She circles until she finds it, just as if it were a duck shot by the Queen. It is something to watch that nose at work; she is a hunter all the way done to her feet.

I’ve come to love this time with her; it’s the least I can do for her; she is loyal and good to me.

Sometimes, when I turn around to throw the ball, I am startled to see our beautiful farm spread out before me, under a big cloudy sky, looking beautiful and unique. I love the view especially at dusk.

This is a landscape I love to see again and again.