But it was a yard. A real one. Cooper sat by the back door. “Yeah, all right,” Brian said, unlocking it. The dog shot outside and tore across the grass with pure joy, nose low, zigzagging through the fresh smells of rain and wet earth. Brian leaned in the doorway and watched, smiling despite himself.
Then Cooper stopped. Near the back-left corner of the yard, he went completely still. His ears sharpened. He lowered his head and sniffed hard at one patch of ground. Then he scratched once. Then again. “Cooper.” The dog ignored him and started digging.