Sunday, December 28, 2014
At least, that is how Gibson feels about it. We finished chores and as I sat down to write with a mug of coffee about monsters and a winter farm in the early 1900's - Gibson watched the turkeys from the glass doors. Over the hour I was lost in the story he went from sitting on that bench at full attention, to laying down with some attention (head up at least), to this slump of absolute ennui. Without work to do a Border Collie is one sad looking layabout, no?