Gate · G-A-T-E

Suzy put her paws on the timber. Gate, she said. The word felt like the thing.

Spike sounded it slow for you. G… A… T… E. Gate.

G is the grunt start, like a soft growl in a working dog throat. A is the open mouth. T is the tap of the latch. E is the quiet end.

They did not dump a worksheet in the paddock. They lived the word.

Suzy opened the latch. Gate opens. She closed it. Gate keeps.

Say it with us, Spike invited. Gate. G-A-T-E.

Canberra waited on the correct side because lines like closed gates. London queued.

If you forget the letters, touch a gate in your mind, Suzy said. The farm remembers the word for you until you can.

Adventure Cap meant explore the sound. Thinking Cap meant check the letters. Neither wrote the word by magic — the pups did.

Gate. One farm word you can spell with your paws on wood.

G-A-T-E. Latch it. Spell it.