Freelance

Shouldering my tripod, I barely reach Mayday in time. Panic erupts as the old engine turns over with no luck, heavy paws pounding the parched earth just beyond, blood-curdling howls tearing my world apart. A final, last-ditch kick to the starter and a shreik of power spins the rear wheel to life, the hound’s face now clearly visible in the left mirror, its eyes rolling in  incontrollable rage, a wake of white foam trailing behind.