Hershey and Wimzie are off for a walk with Meelyn and Aisling, anxious for their afternoon promenade in the pocket park down the street from our house so that they can have a pee and a poo and bark at some squirrels, not necessarily in that order.
It turned cold again, which was only to be expected, so Wimzie is wearing her pink flowered fleecy jacket. Hershey has been misbehaving lately and trying to pull Meelyn's arm from the socket, so he is wearing his Outward Hound dog backpack loaded down with two cans of diced tomatoes and two small cans of tomato sauce.
Burdening Hershey with even a small amount of weight (the little leaflet that came with the backpack gives instructions on how to load the pack so that it isn't too much weight for your dog to comfortably carry) puts a halt to his gallop, but in an unexpected way: When Hershey wears his backpack, he seems much more purposeful when he's out, as if he's saying in his (mostly empty) head, "Gee, this is some serious work I'm doing, carrying tomatoes around the block. I'd better shape up or next time, they won't let me be Mommy's Big Helper."
They are so cute -- all four of them -- setting off to walk. Wimzie trots jauntily beside Aisling; Hershey steams forward with an air of machismo, a big of swagger in his step, his tail held high. Meelyn can at last relax her poor arm a bit. Aisling swings the pooper scooper with an excess of enthusiasm; Meelyn jumps aside and screams. Hershey barks once at lawyer coming downt the sidewalk with his briefcase, and Wimzie gives them all an exasperated look.
I have the house all to myself for the next fifteen minutes.
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