These are perfect mornings here; clean, clear, just within an inch of warm, a carpet of velvet dew upon the grass. Barb wades amongst our small sea of dogs, they lap to her knees and eddy around in small swirls, occasional exuberant puppy waves splash waist high, washing up, around, and then rippling back beneath the surface of the pack.
Yes, we are awash in dogs, five at last count, variously scattered around the living room in depictions of repose or racing around the dining room table with a snatched mini bag of potato chips.
Broken into groups of two old, two new and Daisy somewhat in the middle; the youngest brother pups, Junior and Leo, lay ready to express opinion through the screen door at any imagined or real movement outside; wary pedestrians, perhaps a loose dog in the field across the way or simple hip-hop from a car bouncing by.
Lord, protect us from the havoc of a summertime ice cream truck, riot may ensue, wild beasts leaping from their perch in pursuit, running it to earth and scouring the entrails for creamy, sugary treats.