New Kid in the Crate
Last week, a lost hunting dog showed up at my house. He spent an evening inside and the next day he was returned to his home a couple of houses down. Like an Appalachian Trail hiker, the dog had a distinctive outdoor odor about him, but he was quite nice and quiet. Early on he proved to not be housebroken, so I put him in Henry’s crate when it was bedtime. The hunting dog had no complaints. He slept through the night.
Right before bed, I caught a shot of Ryan’s cat, Mollie, staring at the newcomer. It’s a different angle, but the encounter reminded me of Norman Rockwell’s “New Kids in the Neighborhood”.