It's the end of a very looooong week.

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My dog's depressed.

She's sitting here in my lap wound up in a ball.

You're probably wondering to yourself, "Why - oh why- is Writer Ann's dog depressed? I'm worried. This is probably some really sad story involving vets and shots and expensive vet type surgery. The kind that's way expensive. Oh no!"

You're wrong.

It's not about "... vets and shots and expensive vet typ surgery. The kind that's way expensive..." Which is good because my dog hates going to the vet. Sure this would depress her but it's not why she's unhappy.

You see there's one thing that she hates more than her vet shots.

The cold.

The temperature dropped 50 degrees last night and she's a short haired dog who's made for Miami in the Winter. She really and truely hates cold weather. Last night, when I put her in bed with me, she crawled under the covers and sighed. I'm pretty sure that if she hadn't needed to pee she'd still be there. Hibernating.

Cold weather and this election?

Burrrrrr.





I'm going hole up here and watch a video.

Maybe something inspirational.

Midnight Cowboy.


Have a happy.

Hugs



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