Sunday, July 5, 2009


Dad thinks our crates stink. In fact, he suspects that Zelda is pooping in her bed. (She's not.)

What he's really smelling is ditchwater from our nightly pasture romp. Our undersides are fairly black after we splash through the irrigation ditch. It's so warm that we just hang out in the backyard to dry off before Mom lets us in the the night. Mom thinks the black has something to do with all the cowpies around. (She might be right.)

It's a conundrum. If we have the pleasure of a pasture romp, it means a cold water bath when we get home. Zelda doesn't mind; she thinks it's a chase-the-water game. Mom can't fool me though. And I don't even like warm baths. Mom says that she's not washing our pillows again for another month so we have to get washed off. If only there was a clear stream I could run through instead!

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