It's foggy and drizzly today here in B'ton. I feel like I'm back in San Francisco again. With some notable differences that I won't mention so I don't sound too bitter about not being able to find any g*dd**n good sourdough bread around here.
Since it has been rainy the past few days, the dogs have been cooped up or, when they're outside, trying to perform their bodily functions as quickly as possible so as to be able to bolt back inside and shiver. Or jump all over the couch before politely wiping their paws. Today Alice needed to run with me. Or we would all have a not so good very bad Saturday. So off we went...a full 5 feet before I went shoe-deep in a puddle. Maybe this is what they call "technical" trail running. My right foot was technically soaked. But I persevered! Mostly because I had only gone 5 feet and the embarrassment (in front of the neighbors who don't care) would have been too much.
Alice was a bit of a maniac on our run but that wasn't unexpected. She is cozied up next to me now sleeping so I'm convinced the run was good for her, even though while on the run I was quite sure her head was going to explode she was so glad to be outside and moving. At the end of the jaunt she found tennis ball #2 of her running career: a very nice bright Dunlop Grand. Like before she carried it all the ways home, ability to breath be damned. I present to you the storied romance of a puppy and her beloved felt orb:
"How I love you tennis ball, let us spoon together."
"Oh no! Tennis ball! Why have you left me bereft?"
"And let us frolic on this luxurious Tuesday Morning area rug! Yes! You on top!"
The End.
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