Foot Prints on the Floor
Huge muddy footprints are covering my living room floor. They are marching around the kitchen table. They are climbing the back stair way and draping themselves all over the hall way. Little clumps of dried mud are scattered from the back door to the far end of the living room. Long white hair is free floating over most of the downstairs. Dallas is in the house. His cold nose pokes me as I type. His doggy breath blowsÂ into my face.Â My Great Pyrenees puppy, who weighs in at 120 pounds, and who stands taller then me when up on his hind legs, has arrived back inside from his morning romp.Â Fresh mud adorns my puppy.Â
Dallas is my companion, guardian, and friend. He loves me with all of his doggy heart. The floor will get mopped, the muddy foot prints will be cleaned up.Â The North wind is roaring around the old farm house. The temperature is dropping rapidly. Being warm and inside with my big puppy is a beautiful thing. I do not take muddy footprints seriously. It is good to have Dallas beside me.