One of those hot, brutally humid overcast days when the air feels like a hot barber towel draped over your head.
Finn played in the creek, hunted for quail, explored and ran circles around a pheasant pen turning it into a feathered tornado, all while I stripped formwork from a retaining wall I was building on a friend’s farm. At naptime he wandered over to grab a corner of the plywood in his teeth, helped me pull it off, and layed down on it to take a nap.
Wish I could work like a dog.
The BYD, Big Yaller Dawg, taking a siesta after a hard day of playing at the farm while "Dad" worked.
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You probably could, but you might not eat as well as Finn.
Very colorful description, I enjoyed your words as much as the picture.
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