As I drank my second cup at the kitchen table, I watched the day begin, cold, clear and sunny. With the exception of the snow on the ground, there was little evidence of the two days of storm just past. I watched Sam running around in the yard, knowing that I would have a very wet dog on my hands. I grabbed an armful of bath towels from the closet outside the downstairs bathroom and called Sam into the kitchen. After a vigorous rubdown and a little work with the brush, Sam was dry and her golden hair gleamed in the sunlight streaming in the kitchen window. I gave her a hug and shooed her off to her rug in front of the wood-burning stove. I felt so good about the day that I allowed Sam to bring a large stick into the house, which she now began to devour on the rug. I didn’t care that I’d have to clean up bark and shreds of wood later. Sam seemed content and, fortified with a hearty breakfast, peanut butter out of the jar (the bread was green). I strode to the SUV and prepared to take on Mr.
