I saw an interesting thing on my drive home yesterday. Halfway through
the valley, out where fenced alfalfa fields squeeze so tightly against the roads
you feel as though you are driving within the cracks of a sidewalk, I chanced
upon a big, furry dog out walking his person.
The person, a woman much younger than me, but definitely older than a
day-old donut, was struggling to keep up.
The dog was leading—dog-sled pulling
against a long leash, actually—dragging along its person like tattered pinwheel;
a pinwheel that occasionally flagged an arm here, a leg there.
No saving that pinwheel, I thought as
I caught and then whisked past the pair.
The dog, however, pranced with many miles of energy left in him.
-- Mitchell
Hegman
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