The Hammer and I were greeted by one hundred newly arrived robins at the park this morning. Most of the worm gobbling morning song menaces were too tired to fly up into the trees when my dog greeted them back by lowering her head and unloosing her prey instinct. Instead they moved from one side of the park to the other inviting the Hammer to have another go at filling her mouth with feathers.
That was just my dog's morning shit walk. As she gets older her exercize needs are becoming extensive. After Sonja and I had our morning porridge I took her to the same path we recently saw four deer. We saw none today but my dog scrambled up and down the sidehills in search of her big eared buddies. Stones splashed down the mountain behind her into the clear scared fish creek as she searched the sogginess with all her senses.
The wind blew sleet and snow in our faces but we did not care. My dog is one of the best insulated creatures on our brewery specked planet and I brought along an insulated mug of coffee flavoured whisky.
On the way home I picked up a bottle of long winter whisky and a few dozen all season beer. Sonja has gone out now to find some shoes. In the other room a muted trumpet from the movie she half watched before leaving with her cup of fragrant tea has given way to a shitbomb cheeseburger advertizing jingle.
Guess it's time for me to go cap a few ales, go over the form and look for a race that will afford me the opportunity to take a few days off next week. By the time Sonja gets home from trying on half the shoes in Steepleton the potato soup in the slow cooker will have our home smelling like an old time Newfoundland kitchen. She will tell me, "That sure smells good." Then she will order a blender of margaritas.
Just another day to gleefully self medicate as we await the park's new arrival's promise of warmer days just ahead.