White Dog and the rest of the White Dog Army walked down to the end of the block with Steve and Michael to watch the disassembly of the tents and barricades that had been in place for Saturday night's Summerfest on Route 66. It was a noisy undertaking and the pups were dying of curiosity.
Michael had gone to the Fest the night before, which featured 3 stages of music, food vendors, crafts, art, and all the local merchants along Central Avenue (Route 66). He had a great time and the WDA was jealous that they had to stay behind while he was there and we were at the Opera. So today, they demanded to see what had been missed...
...lots of spills to sniff...full trash cans that begged for investigation...bits of food crushed and lying in the gutter which Steve would not let them sample...and lots of workers to supervise as they returned our main thoroughfare back to functioning.
I was not allowed to go by order of White Dog since I was still favoring my lower back (the "bug" ultimately chose to settle in as back pain and nausea mostly) and needed my rest. Truly I was OK with her decision as the idea of the stale smell of beer and garbage did not hold nearly the attraction that it did for Puffy.
When the WDA came bounding back in, frustrated by Steve's refusal to let them "street sample," the first question was not "How are you feeling, poor, sick momma who we love and were so worried about?"
Instead, it was, "Is it treat time yet?"