Jack, pouting because he wants to get hooked up
Woke up and took a small pack of dogs to the park for a run. Came home sweaty and invigorated to find Chris playing Beatles songs on his guitar in the kitchen, sipping coffee, while Lisey danced with a bubble wand. Dogs yip outside, then randomly start a rallying howl. I live for times like these.
My boy, Jack, sits with me as I type, big head resting on my leg, one blue eye and one brown staring up at me. Life is good.
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