A Dog’s Tongue

Some days are just days you have to pick yourself back up.
On one particular day, I fell down.
Five times in fact.
Three times riding a bike – a pink bicycle with a pink basket.
And twice later, walking a dog (a big dog – a Great Dane, whose name I thought was Lenny until a couple days later, found out his name was Winston).
As a result, both my knees, both my elbows and my chin have scars to prove it. And a couple of them hurt.

Since then, my dog comes up to me quite often, but not necessarily for affection (he’s taking a break), but instead to come lick my wounds.

Dogs know when you’re not at 100%.
And they’ll do whatever it takes to get you back there.

As always, dogs are better than we are.
As always, I try aspire to be the man my dog wants me to be.

And upon Taylor’s suggestion, I now have a Batman bandage on my tender elbow.

Go Adventure. Go Travel. Go Live.

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