And so is my youngest, who in lacking a proper snout, has a rough go in the hot weather. So the walks have to be shorter. But we’re rather lucky enough to live somewhere where we get to experience four distinct seasons. So it seems I grew up, as did she, with the idea that if you’re sick of one season you can look forward to the opportunity to experience a new one rather shortly.
For her it can’t come soon enough. For she loves the snow so much it’s the only times she’s actually tried to run away from home. Twice. Frolicking off into oblivion atop a snow pack. Off to somewhere? I guess? I have to watch her like a hawk.
Please, please don’t go too far.