I can't say I blame Duncan one bit. After all, it is close to a hundred degrees and the air feels like hot sandpaper just opening the door and stepping out into it. The sidewalk is nearly impossible to stand on in my tennis shoes and poor Dunc does a little jogging dance from one foot back to the other whenever we hurry from the breezeway to the grass.
The Run, with its maples and Lindens, is a blessedly shady spot, but relief from this heat is hard to find even there. It is the monsoon season in Denver, which means we get clouds and rain in the afternoons, which tends to cool things off a bit, and even though the clouds are already forming, Duncan was in no mood to wait. He hurried ahead of me to Jeffrey's patio where the squirrels and bluejays congregate for the ample food Jeffrey puts out for them. He's taken quite a fancy to Duncan and has started buying treats for Roo whenever we pass by. Duncan does his cute little dance. gives Jeffrey a high five, rolls over, does everything he know how to do to milk every last treat from the man.
This afternoon, though, Jeffrey wasn't expecting us. He was standing on his patio watching his two cats lurk their way through the long grass on the golf course side of the fence, a chocolate popsicle melting down his hand. Duncan appeared out of nowhere and didn't wait a moment for Jeffrey to offer a treat. He merely jumped up, latched onto the popsicle and bit it in half, his tongue lapping up the drippings as he went. Jeffrey didn't even have time to react and by the time I got there was laughing hysterically, a perfectly clean popsicle stick clutched in his hand.
"I am so sorry," I apologized.
"It's okay," he laughed and held out his hand for Dunc to clean up. "It's chocolate-flavored, but don't worry, there's not an ounce of chocolate in it. He should be just fine."
I could only shake my head at Dunc, who was all smiles for the rest of the walk.