These are dark days.
But sometimes small lights break through to cheer us.
Like on Monday when we entertained four of them for the day. While their mama scurried to move their belongings into their new place, we soaked them with the garden hose in the 97-degree heat. They shrieked in delight. Everybody ate cheese quesadillas and clementines (and a bunch of other things), snoozed on the couch in Flicka’s arms, and created chalk masterpieces on the brick sidewalk in the back yard. (One even imitated Jackson Pollock’s technique, so he’s a prodigy, it turns out.)
These are dark days.
But sometimes small lights break through to cheer us.
*****
*Note: the mother of “the small lights” gave her approval for me to post these pics showing their faces.
*Names in this blog have been changed to protect my family and friends in the neighborhood, and in a nod of appreciation to the beloved Swedish author Maj Lindman, I’ve renamed my three blondies Flicka, Ricka, and Dicka.