The wind weaves through the gaps in the foxtail grass, fluffing the golden retriever’s fur. It buries its nose in the warm waves of grass, every strand glowing with the sunset’s warmth. Its mouth stretches wide to the ears, revealing a pink tongue, as if it’s holding all the joy of summer in its mouth.

The red collar glints softly against its golden coat. It doesn’t need to chase anything or wait for anyone—just run with the wind, letting the grass brush its belly and the breeze tickle its nose. Right now, the world consists only of warm yellow light, soft grass, and the dust kicked up beneath its paws. This is the romance of a dog: colliding with dusk in a wild, carefree run.