Anyway, we took advantage of the wonderful weather on Saturday and took the dogs on a long walk around 11:00. Within the first 10 minutes, I think Tucker had had enough. I don't know if it's his extra fur or the extra chub or the Mastiff in him, but he would've been perfectly happy to just head back to the house as soon as we got to the first cross street in the neighborhood. Too bad for him we kept walking for another 20 minutes.
Tucker couldn't lay himself down in the kitchen any faster. He literally bypassed the water so he could lay down ASAP.
Tongue lolling out the side of the mouth = much cooler.
He had picked the perfect spot to collapse. (Note Morgan in the laundry room.)
I don't know why Morgan thought the rug in front of the door to the garage was the best place to settle after the walk. Maybe she thought the dark room was cooler?
We went to Chelle and Jeremy's that night for a cookout. They have a screened-in porch and it was so nice to just sit outside and enjoy the nice night. Until it got to about 65 degrees (I'm not making that up; Jeremy's slightly obsessed with the outside temperature and there was - were? - not one but TWO digital thermostats out there.) and then it was time to take the party inside.
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