The sense of sight

I'm really trying to do this blog and Facebook stuff, but I'm really, really untechy so bear with me. During the month of March, or well, the rest of March, I'm going to blog about using the 5 senses in writing. Drop in and tell me your take on this important writing topic.

The sense of sight.

Amy opened the door onto velvet blackness. No stars to twinkle down at her. No moon to light the steps to the street. No porch light. She'd replace the bulb tomorrow.

A single taillight shone red halfway down the block. What was Zeke doing here at this time of night? He should be home, getting ready for work. She stepped onto the small porch to see if he would turn right toward home or left toward the highway and her toe hit something stiff. She knelt down, searching by touch for what she couldn't see in the dark. A small tongue licked her hand. A puppy? Had Zeke brought her a replacement for Trouble? Lifting the soft, furry animal out of the box, she carried it inside to the light. Black curls covered the small body. Dark eyes stared at her and the pink tongue reached out to give her a kiss. "I'll call you Black Velvet, Black for short."

She opened the door wider and the light revealed a box with a pink blanket, a can of dog food and a bottle of water. "I don't know how Zeke thought you could get at that food and water, but his heart was in the right place."

Amy could see the puppy mouth open wide showing white teeth and red tongue.

"I suppose you're barking. That won't do you any good around here, but we'll learn to communicate."

Black licked Amy's nose and she laughed.

"We're communicating already."