Scruffy stopped near West. His black, stringy mane brushed his face in the light wind. The sun shined on his coat, making it look red. He swatted flies away with his tail, huffing. He bent down and ate a patch of grass.
Dozer layed on his back in the grass and started rolling around like a crazy drunk person. His mouth was wide open, his tongue flailing. The whites of his eyes showed and he was rolling faster and faster. As funny as this was, this was just his instinct.






