Derek tackles me to the ground, teeth bared in a way I know, instinctively, is only in play. We wrestle for a few seconds, me on my back as I kick at him with my hind legs, leaves and sticks catching in my fur.

And then he's up again, nipping lightly at my feet before he darts off.

Taking his cue, I leap to my feet and chase after him. The wind through my fur is exhilarating, scents from all over flooding my nostrils as my paws pound on the forest floor. I leap over fallen logs and brambles, scare a few rabbits, and I know Derek must be running just fast enough for me to not quite catch him, but I don't even mind.

I feel free.