It is nearly dusk at the lake shore. The last rays of the setting sun reflect off the deep still water, the orange tones contrasting with its usual blues. Most of the water is still, except for right at the shore, where a large shaggy dog is bounding enthusiastically through the shallows to the shore, sending spray, sand, mud, and the occasional weed everywhere. On shore, the car is packed, and the family is mostly aboard.
Everyone’s hopes are writ large in their expressions.
The dog has simple desires, and knows that he just got one last duck chased away before heading back to the land of fences and squirrels.
The children wish the week at the lake could last longer, and now clearly wish they weren’t about to spend several hours dozing in the car along with a large happy wet dog.
The parents also wish they were driving home a large happy dry dog; tempered by twin desires for a longer vacation, and a somewhat welcome return to their normal routine.
The duck’s desire is being realized below as the giant loud fluffy thing is loaded into the strange mobile box and driven away.