High Temperature: 80F
She walks with me, in her way. With the cooler afternoons, Willa and I have set out after lunch for a stroll up the hill, through the band of trees at the top, and then back down again, stopping at the pond for a quick dip.
Her mileage must be about twice mine. She sets off, loping into the pasture to investigate a tantalizing smell. Checks in briefly with me. Then she's off into the trees and under the low branches of the cedars. Sometimes I hear her barking from aways off and I usually find her planted under an oak, harassing an angrily chattering squirrel with a flashing tail.