A. and I took off and spent some time in the
It was a lovely evening. It was crisp but not cold. Buster and Belle were happy as clams. Well, Buster was until he heard the gunshots. The shots were from target practice, but Buster is such a baby; it freaked him out. He practically dragged me to the truck. Poor little chicken.
A. had an ulterior motive, I realized as I saw what trial we were on. We were wandering around a series of beaver ponds. Why would A. want to investigate beaver ponds, you ask? Why, because. They are the first thing to freeze over; they signal the beginning of ice fishing season.
P.S. THANK YOU for all of your enthusiastic and supportive comments regarding my journey through hell, er, The Thesis.