Wednesday, July 27, 2016


We're dog spotting, Bobo and me. 

I'm up by three and he asks for the window to be rolled down.

"It's too hot," I say. "Besides, that's cheating." (His nose, you know.) 

Bobo sighs. He leans heavily against the unopened window and stares down at the floorboard. 

Two lawns pass in silence, three.

"It's not cheating," he finally says,quietly. "I'm not a cheater."

We pass another empty lawn. 

"I know you're not buddy," I say, and roll his window down. "Just a crack. Okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Okay."





Sunday, July 24, 2016


There is one swell thing about Baker.
When I say "Baker?"
Baker says, "What?"
Every. Single. Time.

It makes me laugh.
Ever. Single. Time.

And, he's soft.
Baker is incredibly soft.
Like rich cat soft. 

That's two swell things.   




Wednesday, July 20, 2016


Bobo says that he can't be both perky and percolated.
It just won't happen.




  

Monday, July 18, 2016


The problem with meeting three swell dogs is, I only have two hands.
We managed though.





Sunday, July 17, 2016


The dogs wander and sticks fill the yard and so goes summer.



Sunday, July 10, 2016


Baker is either asleep or a pest. There is no in between.




Wednesday, July 6, 2016


Bobo gets embarrassed when I call him Sweetpickles in public.



Sunday, July 3, 2016


There is a great deal of pet hair woven into the fabric of my life.