Some people claimed that the vast plains were so flat you could release your dogs and watch them escape into the distance for days, gradually diminishing themselves into tiny dots on the horizon. But when we tried releasing them, our hounds wouldn’t leave us our sides, instead lingering around us in their disorientated confusions.
“Where are the hills?” their eyes inquired. “We need hills.”
And looking back, I suppose we were simply too young, too self-obsessed, too lacking the required fluency in the silent language of dogs to make any sense of their unspoken questions.