The early morning breeze swept through the autumn trees, causing the fiery-coloured leaves to rustle. He made his way across the park, his breath exploding in puffs of clouds. He knew what he was looking for; he just had to find it.
The wet grass brushed against his legs, making him walk even faster, as the chill left him shivering. He paused, and then veered off in a different direction, heading towards the cobblestone bridge.
It was far too early for anyone to be awake, even the birdsong had yet to echo through the silence. The usual thrums from the London streets were yet to greet his ears.
His stomach growled loudly, startling him and sending pain shooting through his insides. He knew he had to find it soon. His footsteps pitter-pattered on the cold cobble of the bridge. Suddenly, the icy wind blew the smell of it towards him, briefly overwhelming his nostrils. He wet his lips -his eyes searching hungrily - waiting, for the wind to pick up once more. His breathing quickened in anticipation, but all he could see were the old, splintered benches and scattered rubbish bins.
The wind lifted.
The smell blessed his nose once again.
He dashed towards a worn out bin, across from the old oaks. The bottom of the bin had rusted off, leaving the plastic bag defenceless. He ripped the bag out, strewing crusted garbage across the lawn. Like a scavenger, he picked through the pile, discarding old coffee cups and scrunched up wrappers.
Then, he found it! Drool splattered, as he took it all in. The bread was soggy with green mould. The sausage, crusted with old mustard and tomato sauce, had dulled in colour to a grotesque grey and smelt foul. He fought the flies off, claiming his prize, as his tail wagged. He had never seen such beauty before.... food fit for a king!
A dog's ideas on beauty.
