The old dog trods along the well used path, letting the drifting scents pass by his worn out nose. The red, rusted leaves and the arriving scent of pine intermingle delivering to him a sweet, dry aroma that lingers throughout the whole forest. He passes by a bend in the road where the sunlight reflects off of the lake; the stale green water disguised into shimmering gold. He takes a moment to breathe in the fresh dew of the early autumn morning and leans down into an old resting spot. Finishing his routine circles, the gray haired dog lets his body fall to the ground with a soft thud. The grass is still moist from the night before, slowly allowing him to settle onto the cool ground. He can hear the sparrows singing to each other, greeting the morning's light. The crickets' chirping begins to fade, signaling the break of a new day. Motionless, he watches as his chest slowly rises with each breath; his heavy eyes begin to close. As he lies there, the sun embracing his tired body, the dog finally feels at peace. He takes in the warm smell of the earth and begins to drift to sleep.