I love a good cold front, but Jasper stole my stick. I want to run with it and he wants to pull at it. We both have lots of energy because it’s cold. So not cold really, but only seventy degrees instead of eighty.
“Let go!” I bark.
“No way, dude,” Jasper barks back.
I get my teeth deep in the wood and pull hard.
“Yikes,” Jasper barks. “Where’d you go?”
I run behind a tree, dart to the side and behind a another tree, but whoa . . .
There he is, waiting to take my stick again.
“No. No. No,” I bark, but he gets it and takes off.
The chase is on. Gotta love this cold weather.