Someone has been licking his front legs raw. I’m suspecting this is an only child reaction to me going back to work, his dislike for the heat and his lack of a giant backyard.
I’m sure Imelda Marcos had a hard time adjusting to prison flip flops too.
A second dog doesn’t make a lick of sense right now — even if I know it would make Nelson happy to have a collaborator. The good news: the heat is relenting. Our walks in the morning are darker, but longer. And even prancy paws here is getting the hang of Arizona living.