Fireplaces and Dogs

Last night, I lit the fireplace for the first time this season. No sooner had I sat down afterward, when my lap was instantly vacated by the girl dogs as they leaped down and plopped themselves in their beds on the hearth in obvious joy. They each gave a huge sigh, and that was that. I’d been deserted for the warmth of the fire.

Gunter, my little grumpy old man, was already there in his bed. He just looked at the girls and you could clearly see his thoughts, “Ah, Grasshoppers, you have much left to learn. One must be in place in anticipation! Not run over like nitwits who can’t think ahead.” He’s judgmental that way. But he’s entitled. He’s been here a long time.

My little dog – a heartbeat at my feet.  ~Edith Wharton

Carry on.

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