Last night I returned from puppy sitting for ten days. The home was not far from me but you know a change of environment is always a destination. There were eight pooches plus their mother (who I will expose was no help at all). Three brown, three yellow, and two black laboradors. I know next to nothing about this breed, least of all how to spell it. I found the brown ones visually appealing. One of the browns had an asthmatic rumble that I took to. The mother was a loon who lived for ball playing and games of this sort. I welcome lightheartedness in spurts but found the incessant demands obtrusive and wearing. When one is coralling, sweeping, hosing, resisting mutinous escapes by the deckhands, or in other ways doing one's duty, the last thing said person wishes for is to be barked at. The puppies were a pack of swarming bees when I entered their part of the house/yard. We got along though they progressed to eating my shoes, toes, and clothing within reach. With the young, all is forgiven.
While ignoring the barking requests for another round of Take Me Out to the Ballgame, I picked white nectarines, tomatoes, eggplant, basil, and smelled mint. The figs and red grapes did not ripen in time for me to enjoy them.
I performed hundreds of back and front dives and even used goggles one day to look under the surface. It was a pastoral region and peaceful.
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