One day that dog will be in that pool again. It will not be for awhile, though.
This weekend, February wronged us all. It opened up a fury of venom, hate and spittle that was curiously disguised in peaceful, soft, white droppings. Last week I was enjoying sun and non-freezing temperatures and watching as the snow receded to a point where I could once again see grass. Then on Sunday, all of that progress was done away with. We are back where we started.
I bet Punxsutawney Phil is laughing his hairy little ass off right now.