January 13, 2010. Wednesday.
Situation. Around 3, take Mway out for a walk, just a quick one so I can shower, get dressed, and leave for work around 4.
State of the Path and the Creek. Seems to be just a little less snow on the ground than yesterday, same amount of ice in the creek. Mway wanders off for a little while to peak into Moi’s old wigwam.
The Fetch. Fortunately, Mway keeps to her new habit of limiting her number of fetches to two. But when I follow her home to the back door, she’s standing in front of it without her stick. I open up my arms and exclaim “Where’s your stick?” Mway, though, not to be caught off guard, knows exactly what I’m asking and precisely how to answer it. She scoots off the porch, dashes to the pool, finds her stick (still the big one we’ve been using for a week or so now), drags it back and drops it at the door.
5 comments:
Is there an Australian Joyce? An Australian Shakespeare or Matthew Arnold? An Australian Milton, or even a Camus? I know nothing about Australia. M.
And why should you know anything about it?
You call this a walk today? M.
You call that fetching?
By AUBREY BELFORD and MERAIAH FOLEY
Published: January 13, 2011 [NY Times]
BRISBANE, Australia — Floodwaters peaked here on Thursday, swamping tens of thousands of homes and businesses as officials began to count the cost of a natural disaster that has inundated vast sections of the country’s northeast and killed at least 15 people in the past week.
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