Sitting here in the early morning dark, coffee mug in hand, waiting for inspiration...which is not forthcoming. NASCAR, my Sunday staple, got rained out at Talladega after the first stage, so nothing to talk about there. I did get to watch part of the Steelers-Chargers football game and was pleased to see the Steelers win. All in all, it was a pretty low-key weekend, just not much in the way of blog fodder.
Michael has found the one game he likes to play, Beat Mom To The Porch. I get a kick out of how he'll stop and look back over his shoulder to see if I'm still coming before racing off again, and his satisfied smirk (trust me, dogs can smirk) when he lies down to wait for me to huff and puff to the finish line. I have never met such a serious dog ever. He has absolutely no interest in any of the many toys in the house or birds in the yard. I wonder if it is his natural personality or if it came with his training as a support dog. He is a gentleman with any guest, sitting by their feet for awhile before going to lie in his bed. No barking (ever), no jumping, no nothing that would cause me to say, "Michael, stop that." It was kismet (and Florence) that brought this wonder dog to me at this stage in my life.
Why is it that, even knowing you've drunk the last of the coffee in the mug, you still have to look one more time, wanting one more sip. The coffee's gone, I'm out of conversation, it will be daylight in another hour, and it's time to get a grip on Monday. Whoop whoop.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment