The dog lies beneath the desk. Every once in awhile he sighs and stirs. We have yet to go for a walk. I haven't been dawdling, I just had things to take care of. The bills for one and finishing up a submission to a magazine. I worked on another piece, too and that requires my ass in the chair with dog at my feet. I'd like to think he understands, but the sun just showed itself and I'm not sure even I understand why we are sitting here shivering slightly when we could be on our way to the park for a romp in the woods.
So I will make this a quickie, a daily check-in, and move on...right out the door to catch the sun before the clouds push it away.
The dog just thumped his tail.
He knows. How does he do that?
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