Smoke.

If we walk right now, it's in the smoke. Otterpop can only do the shortest loop, I carry her up the hills. Sometimes she drags along, other times she leaps to the front and tries to bolt. She's twice pulled her leash out of my hand, and bolted into the road. Her brain doesn't tell her this is a bad idea anymore. I keep a light attached to her at night, and a sturdy grip. Even at the park, a close watch, there's a timer running in her head and when it dings, it's time to run for the hills. I'm not sure what's going on in there, the inner workings of Otterpop. I'm glad most of the time she's happy to sleep in her bed.