Now, home in Colorado, just beyond my house lies a trail that winds through trees, alongside fields, and over the creek. I can see the mountains in the distance, and a few days ago, baby cows with their mothers in the pasture next to me. Roscoe occasionally startles a rabbit and they quickly high tail it out of his lumbering reach. At night we can hear the coyotes calling and sometimes the low mooing of cows. It smells like earth, and grass, and freedom.