The Old Blog in the Desert

Buddy and I went for a walk today. The weather had a mean streak in it, bitter cold, with little flurries drifting about like the sky couldn’t quite make up its mind whether to snow or not.

We passed by a barn with a flock of sheep in the yard. Now, Buddy had never seen sheep before, and when a dog meets something new, he naturally assumes it is a dog of a peculiar shape and temperament.

So he marched right up to them with cheerful intentions, tail wagging, nose working, and all the manners a gentleman could ask for. The sheep did not return the courtesy. They stood there in a tight bunch and regarded him with the sort of suspicion usually reserved for traveling salesfolk and politicians.

Buddy, being a decent fellow, merely sniffed at them and wagged his tail as if to say, “Well, if you change your mind about the playing business, I’m available.”

They did not change their mind. So we went home.

I took up position in the big cushioned chair with a cup of coffee warming my hands, while Buddy crawled under his blanket and lay his head across my leg as if it belonged there. The wind could do what it pleased outside.

I sat there a spell and considered the matter carefully. After a thorough investigation, I concluded that a good dog, a warm blanket, and a hot cup of coffee are about as close to perfection as a man is likely to get in this world, and it would be poor manners to ask for more.