Dear reader, Louis here.

Today I would like to speak in favour of liberty. Not the grand, constitution-on-a-plinth kind. The small, daily freedom of zoomies.

What are zoomies?

Zoomies are the body’s lightning strike, a sudden storm of joy that demands movement. They are instinct turned celebration, the proof that being alive sometimes means running simply because you can. Simply put, it is dashing backwards and forwards, to express my inner joy.

A door opens, a leash clicks, the evening air turns cool, and suddenly the rules of furniture and dignity fall away. It is the right to run joyful circles for no reason other than being alive and correctly shod in paw. When I see my co-workers on the street, freedom shivers through me like a spark. When Dad pulls up after a big day and I’m scooped into the car, I do a parade lap before the seatbelt has finished its speech. When Mum arrives back from a meeting at last, the floor becomes a runway and my heart files a flight plan.

Please don’t mistake freedom for disobedience. Zoomies are not rebellion; they are consent to happiness. Give me a little stewardship and I’ll do the rest. Clear the runway. Rescue the coffee cups. Offer a sniffy walk, a puzzle for the busy mind, a rug for traction so tiles don’t betray my cornering. Cheer if you like. I am performing for us both. And I won’t forget my inner grace.

Sometimes grace is being free. Ten seconds of speed and the world rights itself. Most days it is simply good news announced loudly by paws: I am well. You are here. The evening is fine. The rug is magnificent.

Kindly stand aside. Liberty is about to make a joyful racket.

Louis
Culture Manager,
Pesel & Carr