This is Ridiculous!

Another week of high temperatures. What happened to winter? I know, I know, for whatever reason it's decided to stay in poor Alaska this year. It must be tough to get an entire country's worth of winter dumped on one state, but their gain is our loss. We are having a winter of perpetual autumn.

It was so warm one of the days that I decided to go jogging. I even put on some capris for the occasion. Remember, this is in January. Remember what January looked like last year. Now picture me out jogging in a light jacket and pants that don't touch my feet. What a difference a year makes.

I decided to jog across the field next to us just for a change of pace. That is one drawback of where I live; there aren't many variations to any exercise excursions---shall I go down the driveway and go left...or right----so it's usually nice to mix things up once in a while. In this particular instance it turned out to be a bad idea for some of us. Those of us with white, furry legs---no, not me---Finley! I think I'm offended now.




The top layer of dirt was warm and thawed, making just the right mix of damp dirt to turn one black and white pooch into a go-go dog wearing thigh-high brown boots. Oh, it was all fun and games until we got back to the house and he wanted to come inside. I don't think so, Buster!









Nothing else for it but to prepare a sponge bath of sorts. Caleb got a large container of water and we started dipping Finley's feet in one by one. I was astounding how rapidly the once-clear water turned the color of chocolate milk.Meanwhile, Finley looked at us with reproachful eyes, as he views baths as some kind of sadistic torture we periodically lapse into. I think taking pictures of the process only makes it worse ("You sickos," he says inwardly).


Eventually he was less-disgusting enough that I allowed him back into the house, but he had his revenge. Oh, yes. After he dried so that the mud still left in his fur was now dust, he went to snooze on my bed. Of course all the dust "happened" to fall off on my sheets, not to be discovered until I was ready to hit the sack. Somewhere in the distance, I thought I could hear fiendish chuckling, but I was probably imagining it. Yeah, right.