Ahh... Minnesota summers

The mist rolls across the east end of the lake, the BigBirdsThatSwimAwayTooFast wind single-file across the water, honking their way to graze on the grass shoots they find on the low ground. It's chilly right now: Alpha has those little bumps he gets when it's cold out, the ones that make his skin rough like sandpaper when I lick it. The sky is mostly empty of fluff and shade-makers, a little breeze brings mostly green smells, but some bird-smells, too, and a squirrel-smell from NotMyYard.

A dog's life is a good life.

Alpha and Beta finally agreed with what I've been telling them for months: my night-house is too small. So they left the door open last night and I slept under the table where there's room to stretch and turn when I need to. Of course, when I heard Alpha stir, I hopped on the bed to see if he was awake yet. He wasn't, but it was warm there between him and Beta, so I stayed and napped until he did wake up. It didn't take nearly so long this morning to stretch out the kinks.

A dog's life is a good life.