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Storms. And torrential rain. I feel guilty, because I only gave the dogs a quick on-leash walk instead of a full-on park romp this morning. But two out of three of us didn't want to be out in that weather, and once that thunder gets louder Spike won't be so keen either. I gave him a melatonin tablet wrapped in cheese in case it gets worse later.
Squish's ears catch in high winds, and flare out around his head like wings. He hates it, but it's unbelievably cute.
I found a perfectly functional pair of nail clippers lying on the pavement. How does that happen? Was someone walking along cutting their nails? Who does that? A few yards further on, when we had turned off the road onto the grassland behind the houses, there was a flapping assemblage of red and black fabric caught on a hedge. I thought it was a jacket, but when I looked closer, it had black plastic feet. I finally identified it as the remains of one of the huge inflatable Santas that sprout on some of the houses here in December. One down, far too many to go.
Whenever we pass by a discarded plastic drink bottle, Spike pounces on it and bounces at me to try and get me to play with him. I probably shouldn't encourage it, but sometimes I do. At least they're safer than sticks.
This rain will have filled Spike's paddling puddles in Big Park to overflowing with nice clean water. I'll take them there tomorrow. I'll try and remember to recharge my batteries and take my camera.
Squish's ears catch in high winds, and flare out around his head like wings. He hates it, but it's unbelievably cute.
I found a perfectly functional pair of nail clippers lying on the pavement. How does that happen? Was someone walking along cutting their nails? Who does that? A few yards further on, when we had turned off the road onto the grassland behind the houses, there was a flapping assemblage of red and black fabric caught on a hedge. I thought it was a jacket, but when I looked closer, it had black plastic feet. I finally identified it as the remains of one of the huge inflatable Santas that sprout on some of the houses here in December. One down, far too many to go.
Whenever we pass by a discarded plastic drink bottle, Spike pounces on it and bounces at me to try and get me to play with him. I probably shouldn't encourage it, but sometimes I do. At least they're safer than sticks.
This rain will have filled Spike's paddling puddles in Big Park to overflowing with nice clean water. I'll take them there tomorrow. I'll try and remember to recharge my batteries and take my camera.
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