Tito was a puppy with long ears and a light step. Every morning he ran into the garden to greet the sun, sniff the bushes, and check if the birds were already awake. But one day, while chasing a butterfly, he noticed something strange: small red pawprints were left on the grass.
He stopped, curious, and took another leap. This time, the pawprints were yellow.
He tried again, harder: green.
Tito looked at his paws and saw no paint or mud. Just him, the grass, and those colors blooming like flowers after the rain.
So he started experimenting. When he was happy, his prints turned orange like the sunset. When he felt lonely, they were light blue, almost invisible. When he got scared, they became violet, like the sky before a storm.
His human, Matteo, couldn’t see any of this, but every time Tito ran in circles, he laughed and said,
— Look how lively you are today!
And Tito understood that even if Matteo couldn’t see the colors, he could feel the same thing.
As days went by, the garden became a secret mosaic. Every paw left an emotion, every run told a story.
And Tito learned that you don’t need words to be understood — you just have to leave your own prints, colorful or invisible as they may be.
