It was raining this morning and someone was walking in the swine barn that is mostly roof at the fairgrounds where Sydney likes to go to stretch out his 12 year old muscles in the morning after we have dropped off kids at school. So we drove on down to the 4-H pony barn that is at the east end of the fairgrounds and just southeast of the corral.

It has four open doorways – two on each end –  that are blocked by your basic pipe gate that reaches all the way – almost – to the ground. But there was enough room for Sydney to get down and slide under. I’m thinking: horses were there this weekend, lots or horses, and that dog is going to smell like manure. Resigned, I waited and waited and then honked and no Sydney. Now it is raining harder and I’m staring at the spot where Sydney entered. No dog. Then in the distance I see him scooting out one of the far doorways and running around the barn in the pouring rain to get in the car.

Sydney, I love you. I guess I love the smell of wet dog and manure in the morning . . . when it’s you. Now, let me bop you on your cute head for going in there.