The wind in his ears, the smells on the street, the feel of freedom.
Oliver loves cars. He loves to be in cars, around cars, jumping up on cars, watching cars, etc. The poor guy also loves to chase cars. This nasty habit almost left him in a brass urn, to be scattered over his favorite swimming spots.
One fall afternoon, as we were in the yard raking leaves, Oliver spots a slow moving SUV turning onto our road. He sprints toward the car.
At this point I'm not sure if he even knew what he was going to do when he caught up. Will he jump up to the window to see who is in it? Or will he chase it?
He does both, simultaneously.
As he catches up to the car, he jumps head first into the rear passenger side door. This flips him over and spins him around, giving him a nice piece of road rash on his foot (which later required acupuncture. shrugs shoulders). Dazed, he limps toward me. I'm shrieking, of course.
It ended much better than it should have. No broken bones. Small boo-boo. The only negative outcome is that he is still fearless when it comes to these hairless people boxes.