The Dog Days of Summer

Well . . . not really.  Dog days of summer usually refers (I believe) to the days when it’s so hot you can’t do anything but loll around with your tongue hanging out like a dog, but in my life, every day seems to be a dog day.  Not because of the heat . . . because of the DOG!  It was 57 here this morning, but they do say it will warm up.  We’ve been visiting the dog park a lot lately.  Our park doesn’t have a lot of amenities, but it has lots of space, lots of quiet, and, lately, lots and lots of grass.  No one has mown the fields yet, so the ball gets lost frequently.  Fortunately, someone’s schnauzer schnout has developed great powers, and he manages to find the ball more often than not.  Most of the time, I throw it, and all I see for a while is the little tail wagging above the grass blades.

But, he finds it and then proudly brings it back

After a while, we get a bit tired

And then we get really tired

And then even I need to go sit.  We have a fairly cool bench at the park, dedicated to a man and his dogs who used to walk there

It’s decorated with typical Eugenean art

And from there we can survey the peaceful surroundings

Until we’re off to hunt for the ball again

Happy Independence Day weekend to all.  We’re off to run, fetch, sit, stay (oh, and quilt a little too).

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