February 8, 2009

White Dog waited on the "going out" chair. It was Sunday morning, bike riding and brunch morning, see Gregg, Candace and little terror Dragon morning. She looked at Steve impatient that he would be making phone calls when we should be leaving. She heard Steve say, "Hi, Gregg..." and then the discussion about the cold morning, heavy winds, and impending rain. White Dog slumped knowing before the conversation ended that the morning ritual had been cancelled this week. She tried charming Steve and then guilting him into changing his mind. When we left to meet Gregg and Candace indoors for lunch, White Dog sat resignedly in her window perch looking as dejected as possible--her expressive black eyes haunting us as we backed down the drive.