A Wet Morning, Two Little Dogs, and a Good Painting
I headed out into the storm this morning, rain blowing so hard it felt like it was trying to peel my clothes off. Somewhere along the path, a guy with two little dogs said hello. We chatted for a moment about how dogs, when there’s three of them, just bark and bark like they’re arguing over who owns the trail. Funny how they get along by not getting along.
We passed each other in the rain with a smile. I wasn’t planning to talk, but he was saying something loud and half‑incoherent, so I stepped closer and answered back. Just two dog walkers out early in a storm, greeting each other like it was the most normal thing.
By the time I got home, my pants and shirt were soaked through. Straight into the wash they went. Dixie got the towel treatment — she loved every second of it, leaning into the rub‑down like it was a spa day.
The storm’s hitting the whole province. I heard Banff is flooding. Wild weather everywhere.
A friend of mine showed me a painting he made. He still hasn’t named it — says he only names them when they’re hanging in a gallery. I was somewhere in the middle of understanding that, but the painting itself was good. Joe does solid work.
Just another stormy morning walk, a couple of dogs, a stranger’s hello, and a reminder that even soaked days have their bright spots.
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