It was my favorite week in summer. The week when we went and stayed at my grandparents cabin on Lake Michigan. On that day there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the reflection of the sun off the water forced me to squint my eyes. Anka was beside me, she had found a stick when we went on a walk through the woods that morning and kept setting it down for me. I would throw it parallel to the water because she loved splashing and jumping in the shallow water on her way to fetch the stick. I waded out into the lake until I was about a little above knee deep, the water growing increasingly cold with each step, giving me goosebumps. It was an odd sensation, with the heat of the sun on my upper body and the chilly water on my lower half. About twenty yards away from me was the old pier, which they had blown up with dynamite so it was now a heap of rubble. The sound and rhythm of the waves hitting the rocks and the seagulls calling to one another as Anka chased them made me smile and feel at peace. Anka swam up beside me and I thought it was so cute the way her paws paddled in the water. She looked up at me, her eyes were bright and full of expression, and I truly believe at that moment she was the happiest dog in Michigan.
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