Mog the Dog here, taking a moment on this fine mid-April morning to wonder, like faux fur in a clay throat, how long it will take for Earth's version of the One Who Waits to show up and give me some pointers on how to while away a good day.

The view from down here is simply striking:



My work at digging is only halfway done. Clearly the Emissary had nothing on this tired old toy brindle dog.

And if my fate is to wonder while waiting the long years through like Eugene Field's own little toy brindle dog, thanks to Ray I can rest assured that I won't be sitting around gathering dust in a dead child's chair.

MTD

Mog the Dog here, waiting still, but more like meat in a steel pit.

I should be wise to wait for The One Who Waits in a safer location.