A couple of weeks ago, my bride and I were heading home from a venture into the Wildes of Wally-world (yuk!). As I turned my head to the right in anticipation of aiming the Explorer in the same direction my wife said, "Oh, let's go THROUGH TOWN. I want to see the colts at the south end."
...uhmm, the things done for Love's sake.
After hitting 3,743 lights ALL WRONG ~ after seeing more boxer-short'd/dropped pants wanna be tuffs than any non-masochist should endure over an entire lifetime ~ and after nearly giving in to a SONIC attack (been working diligently on keeping this 50 year old body in at least mid-30s shape... another reason I don't drive down fastfood row). After ALL THAT, the horses were in the back pasture... no colts.
But at least we were free of TOWN! Ahh...
Then I hit the brakes.
Three of them. Small ~ Clueless ~ Starving pups ~ wandering right into my lane of traffic.
...and I knew instinctively and instantly what I would hear next.
"STOP THE TRUCK!"
Oh no (we already have 7 dogs and 3 cats, "rescued" over the years).
The passenger door flies open.
"Here, take this one. Here. Here."
Even as I grumbled about 'flea-bags' making a mess of my rear seat, my heart went out to these trembling, scabby, bone sacks of trusting Innocence.
My head turned right. But my bride's innocent request actually worked out to be a SWEET TURN OF FATE.
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Images from just two days of food, water, tick-pickin', vet visits... and love.
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