She comes bounding in my direction, arms outstretched, soft curls bouncing around her, like a golden-brown halo, afraid her canine stalker will beat her to me. She jumps and clings on to me, like a lizard, head buried in my shoulder, scared to even look up.

"He's gone!" I whisper into her ears. And she opens her hazel eyes at last.

Just as suddenly as she had jumped onto my lap, she wriggles down and runs back to check if he really is gone. She discovers that he is. She turns back towards me and smiles. And I melt. She is so cute. So lovely. So complete.

"Come I'll show you my room," she says. And tugs at my hand to carry her again. I oblige. She points to the direction of her room. And I feel like an outsider on a voyage of discovery with the most beautiful guide in the world.

"My sister drew that", she says, pointing at a water colour painting on the door. "It's beautiful!" I exclaim.

"And that's our caricature", she says, as she points at a lovely cartoon rendition of her with her sister and mother, beside her bed.

"Lovely!" I say, as I put her down on her bed and move closer to get a better look at the framed masterpiece.

The dog comes again. She screams and jumps on me again. And I hold her tight, as she hides her head in my shoulder again.

The dog doesn't go away this time. He wags his tail and keeps looking at her direction. And she continues to hang on to me. And I love the feeling of having her hanging on my neck...

Tara, the explorer.

Cute. Lovely. Complete.