These days poor old Cibolo Creek is really just a glorified mud hole thanks to our annual summer hill country drought. Finn and I have to witness the daily shrinkage on our walks through town. The poor ducks, geese and turtles are all clustered around the deepest stretches where they can still get wet.The last time we got a nice downpour was sixteen days ago for a whopping ten minutes, but nary a drop since then. Our local weatherman says we might be in for a bit of rain on Friday. I'll be crossing my fingers and toes that we get some precious water on our lawns that need it so desperately. And I'm looking at you, local raccoon, who has been drinking out of our pool from the sun shelf in the middle of the night.
Little man Finn really enjoys our morning walks. After eating his breakfast, I saddle him up in his harness for our stroll. Once it's on, he immediately starts impressing upon me that we need to hit the road. No dilly dallying allowed.
Finn continues to entertain us, and he's quite the vocal boy. He has a repertoire of various whines, yips, and barks that he uses on us for various reasons, anything from wanting his breakfast and throwing his favorite possum toy to going outside to potty. One of his newest tricks is chasing his tail. He tends to do this when he's really feeling his oats and busy with his monkeyshines in the late afternoon.
We've never let Finn on our bed for fear he'd fall off. However, as he has matured he seems pretty aware of and respectful about heights. So we allowed him to come up for a bit of a visit one evening close to bedtime. He has seen Pepper up there on occasion and was really interested, as well as jealous. After a bit of exploration and chicken scratching, he settled down to sleep. Thankfully, he didn't put up much of a fuss when we moved him back into his doggy bed at lights out.
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