Two black dimensionally reduced canine pups were looking out just over the horizon...
Wishfully was the way they sighed and blew away some sporadic saliva bubbles that danced, once in the air, with yellowy joy... air-waving towards the nothingness that separated the two hairy friends from their true dream: The island.
That same piece of floating Utopian land that had made them lose their meaty marbles ever since they took the rusty old road to the market for the first time (with their ma's) now looked as near and real to them as the chicken drumstick pup#1 had sneakily fetched from the butcher's choppin' table last Thursday night (meaning: VERY NEAR INDEED).

The elder dogs called it "The Magic Crystal Island". Only uncle Jacob the cripple had once been there (having one day sneaked inside one of those gigantic blue woody monsters hanging 'round the docks). But no one believes uncle Jacob's story of the Island after the accident. They say he was hit by a wooden wheeled whale pulled by a wooden wheeled tractor while crossing the street. One eyed Puck says that the impact caused uncle Jacob's brain to gush out of his head through colorful sprinkles that were sprayed through his ear-holes all the way to the heavens and above... so now the floating remains gotta wait for the body to pass on so that they can be reunited again.