Not a Good Day to be a Black Dog

It was hot out today when Dave and I took our last walk. "It's not a good day to be a black dog," is what Dave says when it's sunny like it is today. I guess he's right. We got to the park today and a couple of my buddies were there. I started to run around in the park with them and, boy, did I get hot. Unbelieveable. We stopped for water at the drinking fountain but that only helped a little.

Of course, on the way home, we had to walk up this mountain where we live. I don't understand. I yell at him to carry me, but he just says something about me not being an old dog and that I weigh too much. Sure. Most of the time he calls me his "little black girl" except when I'm tired and want him to carry me. Then 60 pounds is too much for him. Sheesh!

Well, I better go rest up. I know he'll want to go for another walk later. At least he waits until the sun goes down to take me out a second time. Later!

DIVA