Three thirty in the morning, not a creature in sight, the yard is looking like a ghost town on a moon lit fall night. Raindrops on the patio there's a cold front moving in, he's headin towards somewhere that he never should have gone.
They're waiting by the window when he wanders into the yard, Cambree rushing out to greet him thankful he's arrived. but all through the wind and rain Drake lets out a bark, and lighting flashes in their eyes and he knows that he's screwed.
The possum gets rolled when Cambree bites, another big loud bark from Drake, as they both get out of control, out in the yard the possum gets rolled.
2 comments:
Wow...You've got good dogs...'course 3:30 in the morning isn't a fun time to deal with that kind of thing.
now I'm going to have that song in my head all day.
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