The Ennui of Edward

His is a fortunate disposition, for he was born a happy dog.
Despite a precarious and rather lonely start in life, he never lost his joie de vivre, and now, ensconced as he is in the center of love itself, each day is merely another another opportunity for sharing his joy with everyone he sees.
And then comes August.
He tries, he really does, to face it bravely, to stare down his melancholy and force back his dread. But some days, it is just too much. Each morning he bounds to the door, filled with new hope.... oh, for a brisk wind, perhaps a cooler day.... but he is greeted again with the mossy air of late summer that makes his fur feel cumbersome and turns his dancing paws to lead. And so, once again, like a disappointed turtle, he pulls his head back inside the cooler house and stomps off to his fat tartan bed where he waits. And he waits. For Autumn.
But not today.
Invited into the car for an outing, he had to confess that his expectations were low, and when he sensed the car was on the expressway - the dullest road imaginable - he simply fell asleep. Upon awakening a couple of hours later, he noticed all the car windows were down, the sunroof was open, and the air through the windows had been miraculously refreshed into a cool autumnal breeze. Tentatively, he stuck his nose out the window. He could see up above him, across skies the colour of robin’s eggs, big white clouds were gamboling - their lamb-like faces shifting happy expression with every gust of cool wind. The holiday scent of the fir trees told him. He was deep in the mountains!
Who knew his people could travel from Summer to Autumn in two short hours? He did not stop to ponder this new wizardry, but bounded from the car with glee. He hiked to mountain waterfalls, graciously pulling the lady back up the steep trails like a ski rope. He ate lunch by a clear, duck-dotted lake, and ran across still green fields where the grass felt deliciously cool beneath his summer weary paws. He had his picture taken; strangers patted his furry white head. His August ennui was gone.
He slept the way home and now is not quite certain if the day really happened or was simply a dream. But no matter, he can clearly remember how good it felt to be once again in cool weather. He shall think of the day when he naps, his belief now restored.
Autumn shall indeed return to grace the wilted land!

With his sincere apologies to the Bard of Avon, Edward would like to say,
“Now was the summer of my discontent, made glorious autumn by a trip to the mountains”.