|When the silence finally fell upon the ending day, all the creatures of the dark were now breaking free from their warm sleep to roam thrashing in too remaining declining daylight.|
It was clearly such a eventful evening when Cooper the old blood hound decide without thought to ground his big wet nose to the moist ground to begin his nightly journey to wander the vast open fields in the dark night with his shimmering nose light.
Without any pause he continued in earnest, sustaining his long quest in search of any misplaced garbage for some tasty midnight treat
It has been said long time ago in old fork lore that the inhabitants who lived in those darken hidden valleys always took proper note in fear of the twelfth hour by the loud echoing owls which was the true sign of the hellish, devilish coming evil night.
But no matter of the spoken words or written faded pages of the ripened past of fork lore. It never made any difference to that old hound Cooper, who continued to roam through deep valleys, and up grassy hills drifting back and forth spaying the empty cold darkness with his nose light.
On some occasions, Cooper, would just stop dead in his tracks, to hear the village people far below talking about tales of ghosts, and mad demons while the full moon above was dripping its soft glowing light.
And because of no warming movement by Cooper the sustained chill of cold began to take toll on Coopers thin fur coat so he would begin his never-ending howling until someone far below would finally cry out to the others, "Do you hear old Cooper look can't you see his flashing nose light out there."
And finally when the failing night came upon the coming morning dawn Cooper in all his tiredness started to make his way back to that old broken barn he discovered earlier that night.
To lay down on some old dry hay to fall fast asleep, dreaming once more of something so juicy that he might get to find, and eat the next coming pending night.