June 5, 2007

A dog's face, buffeted by 80-mile per hour winds, is really something to behold. Lips flapping, eyelids lifted, tongue escaping. I love it.

We pulled into the hotel parking lot at 1:30am last night, and I sleepily took Obie onto the grass in front of the office to relieve himself one last time. We were all exhausted after a full day of driving, and eager to get some sleep before doing it again the next day. It only took the dog only about thirty seconds to find a dead bird and roll in it. Didn't love that so much.

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