I like having such a dog specific joke, those funny plastic cones they have to wear. Oh, and sometimes I’ve been the unwanted cheerer-on, sometimes the unwanting to be cheered-on.
Even though I joke about this, when living in New England (wherabouts I just moved to again) the months of December, and then January and then on to February and a little of March were just killer. Dark dark, snow, cold, dark.
Why did I move back here again?
This was a fun strip to build a lead-up with, leaving readers wondering where it was going.
And in re-reading this, i find my choice of books charming and perplexing. What on earth was I thinking? Cathay by Ezra Pound? Strange.