At speed.
Sola and I have something in common. We both love to mountain bike. The smell of forest and sound of dirt passing under wheel and paws at speed is our church. When I pull the bike out and load it in the truck Sola stands in the window screaming at me as though I have just left her behind on the Titanic. But when we are in the woods we are one. She will not be separated from the back tire of a mountain bike at speed. If I stop she will wait by my side for the fun to resume. There is a beautiful crystal clear mountain stream that we always stop at for her to swim, drink and recharge. In the last five days she has probably logged about 18 miles of rugged terrain, and is no worse for the wear. She's a tough little seven month old girl. And she worships the ground I walk on, unless she feels like ignoring me.
Sola: What a bunch of fruity crap. I'm just in it for the mud. I stay behind that tire and get big old gulps of it. I wish I were in school. I would eat paste......
At rest.
Sola, you are an unmitigated nut. You're not supposed to EAT the mud, you're supposed to ROLL in the mud...
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