A Sound!
A sound! She turns her head, pricks up her ears and tail.
Her skin tingles beneath her brown and white fur.
A sound! It whispers lightly across the grass, the patches of ancient yellow and gleaming green, aged paper and scintillating emerald, across the fleeting footsteps of the breeze as it coaches the oaks to bend and dance.
Not music, something more.
Not silence, less.
A sound! It echoes off the pure snowy white and scarlet rose of the home behind her.
A sound! Even the ants hearken.
A sound! She bays and sprints and halts; the couple behind calls her back.
They outline this sensible, logical, incomprehensible expostulation for her to return.
It's inconceivably important that she should turn about and see what the monkeys want.
She bays and sprints towards the sound, burning with curiosity.
No sound.
It's gone.
Oh well.