This will be a short post. It’s was 1F again this morning. I was tired, cold and not much in the mood to spend a lot of time outside. Junior and Lily don’t understand those feelings. And in the face of my lack of enthusiasm for throwing the tennis balls, they too matters into their own hands.
I watched them race around the garden chasing each other — back and forth across the property. Slowly, their hot breath took form on their black fur. When I got them to stop for a moment to pose for a photograph, the look in their faces seemed to say, “What’s wrong with you old man?”
Yeah. Really. What’s wrong with me?