Today, Winter makes a down payment on Spring. It's twenty degrees warmer than it was yesterday, and there is Not. A. Cloud. In. The. Sky.
It's time to walk some dogs.
I'm not the only person to decide that today would be a good idea. While walking down Broadway in Stowe, we pass a man walking his two dogs, whom he describes to me as "purebred mutts", and Klea pauses to greet them. A few minutes later, we pass a woman walking her dog, and she smiles at the basenjis as we do so.
Walking down Frederick Street, we pass by a woman standing just outside her house's chainlink fence, and she's petting a brown pit bull inside the fence whom she introduces as Buddy. While the basenjis and Buddy sniff at each others' faces through the fence, a boy comes up to introduce himself as Michael, state that he is 12 years old, ask if the basenjis are chihuahuas, ask if the basenjis bite, ask if the basenjis like children, ask if the basenjis like strangers, ask if he can pet the basenjis, and ask how old the basenjis are. While I explain about the basenjis, Klea walks up to Michael and gives him her customary "do you have any food for me?" sniff. Having established that there is no food forthcoming, she leads us back up the street, and we make our way home.