The sun is shining, we both have the day off. Sam has been working extra hard these last few weeks and his company has given him today and Monday off for all his good work. It’s nice to be rewarded.
I’ve never been anything remotely close to special anywhere I have worked. I’ve only ever heard complaints.
We're off walking in the park, and out to lunch, with Buddy and Bruno.
It’s not quite as sunny as promised under the wide veranda of the Lygon Street shops. We shared ribs, Sam ate fish and I had oxtail soup which was so salty that I wouldn’t order it again.
Buddy is slow now, I have to walk at a glacial pace with him. It’s not that he can’t walk faster, I think he has just got to that old man stage when he thinks fuck the world I’m walking at my own pace. (I’m sure the fuck the world attitude is the payoff for aging) He’s still much more social than I am. He will say hello to anyone for a pat, he charms people so easily, where I still naturally kind of avoid people. (Drink coffee, know things, and hate people)
You have them off-lead, voice trained and suddenly they are dangerously close to the end of their lives. They are the perfect dog and… let’s not think about that too much, hey.
We watched Homeland all afternoon, it was just that sort of day.
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