It is damn hot.

Oh, I know, I know.  We’ve had a mild summer here in Arkansas.  I know this.  But today, it is damn hot.

How do I know it’s hot?  Usually, when I say the W-word (walk), my dog goes into spasms of freak out, jumping, barking, racing to the door as if to say “This way, mom!  The door is this way!  I’ll show you!  Come ON!”

Just now, I approached the dog and said the magic words:

“Sadie, what do you think?  Do you want to go for a walk?”

Thump.

One thump of the tail, a slight lift of the head, and then with a sigh, she laid back down as if to say “nah, I think I’ll just stay here.”

It’s a dog’s life, y’all.

PS: This post is brought to you by my brain that wants to write about all kinds of things that aren’t appropriate for this blog.  When in doubt, talk about dogs and the weather.  You won’t get Shakespeare, but you’ll at least get a little “fingers on the keys” therapy.

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