Sunday, January 26, 2014

No Romping for You, Buddy

We walk through the snowy park, gray sky above, white and brown and black everything below, watching dozens of children on the hill across the meadow sledding down, grabbing their sleds and running back to the top to start again. Dogs off leash dash ecstatic through the white, tongues lolling, laugh-panting in joy.

The friendly noses of two airedales say hello to hands and hips as their owner explains that one of them is recovering from surgery, and therefore "can't romp." It must be awful, to have this playground, just waiting for your romping, and to not be able to do the thing.

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