The large park that follows the banks of the river through town is a riot of color in the fall. The leaves blanket the gravel trail and the rocky shore. Drift wood sticks pile up and deciduous trees trail their branches in the water.  I walk along the trail following the dog who is following the scents that is flooding his nose. Within minutes he has disappeared into the bushes and I can hear him as he splashes into the water. Then he bounds into view looking for me, wondering if I am following him to the river's edge. The sandy hill is a sharp steep decline to the water and I have to be careful if I don't want to end up wetter then that fur ball that just bounded into the water searching for a stick, a toy, anything. He turns and looks as if to say, well, "throw it already!"  I bring out his styrofoam "hunting" bird and chuck it into the middle of the river. He turns looking for the splash, trying to jump from spot to spot until his feet no longer touch the bottom and then with his ears floating he torpedoes towards the floating "bird". He lunges, then grabs it, turns almost completely around and paddles for all he's worth towards shore. With one eye on me and the other on the bushes lining the bank, he hauls himself out of the water. Instead of dropping it at my feet, he plays this hard to get game and carries to the bushes. Then he makes a dash towards me and whines. "Where is it? Aren't you going to throw it again? What's taking so long?" His eye implore me. Hopping up and and down whining. I march over to where he left it, picking it up he suddenly is right next to me, hopping, wagging, with his tongue hanging out. I throw it out again and the it is repeated all over again. He can't stop and rest, even when I know he's going to hurt from arthritis.  He can't just chill and wait. His energy flows, every scent, every sound, every breeze that touches his ears seems to create more energy in him.  Finally I say enough and head back to the gravel path that circumnavigates the park. He follows still full of energy. Taking in the tall meadow grass that is most of the park he does a running head first slide rolling over and over from side to side and on his back. Drying off. Once up he bounds everywhere, wanting to carry his bird, but frequently dropping it and then returning to me without it. I have to say, get your bird and then help him find it. Once around the park that is about 3/4 mile we head back to the vehicle and head home. He collapses as soon as we get into the house and I know I'm going to need to give him a pill for his aches.  He settles at my feet and I pull the card out of my camera and process photos. Thinking of all the wonderful moments, the small little things that have changed within the park and how lucky I am to be able to notice it, even if I backed into a car behind me on my birthday, trying to leave the park.