Freya and I went for a walk in the woods this morning. In the Blizzard. In howling winds. In pelting snow. With thunder rolling through the heavens above us. (Count the prepositional phrases: 8).
Still, it was wonderful to be outside. She looked like the abominable white snow creature when we got back. By the time I got my camera out, she was already melting, but you get the idea. Now she's recovering, snoozing soundly on the floor.
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