Busted

It was, for a change, pleasantly cool when Michael and I took our morning walk yesterday.  Either the vultures are used to us or they're playing a game, but they wait on the posts and poles at the corner of the pen until we're nearly up to them before they take off in a black cloud.  Michael finds that exciting.  It seems to me that there are a lot more immature vultures this year than usual.  Their dark heads won't turn red until they're older.

After our walk, Michael got his treat and I had a sit down before heading out again to feed the critters.  After having had his hike, he's been so good about staying at the top of the hill while I do chores.  He checks out the turkeys when they gather, goes over to the chicken pen with me, watches whatever livestock might be grazing at the neighbors', then waits in the shade for me to finish up.  Then we have our pretend race back to the porch, the race he always wins.  Yesterday he wasn't waiting.  Hmmm.  I waited a bit and then headed toward the house.  Suddenly Michael came racing up the driveway like his tail was on fire, skidded around the corner and made the last dash to the porch.  "I won, I won!"  "No, you didn't win, you rascal.  Do you think I don't know you went down to the road again?"  He was so busted.

Later in the day we went to Mt. Aukum.  This time the nice lady didn't ask or wait, but came right around the counter with a handful of baby-size milk bones for Michael.  Another woman was waiting.  "You have to see this!  You've never seen such a polite dog," and Nice Lady gave him another treat, which he took as if it was his due.  While I was tending to business, a group of bikers came in.  (When I say bikers, I don't mean they are riding bicycles.)  Michael was in his element.  He doesn't hide the fact that he likes men, and he made friends with every one of the leather-clad guys before we had to leave.

Michael had quite a day.