Working outside a little church one sweltering afternoon in June was a middle-aged man and three children. The oldest, a girl about twelve, worked steadily. But the younger two-boys who looked like twins but were not-paused in their work periodically to either squabble or complain about the heat.

Have you ever wondered about the world’s colors? Why the sky is that baby blue shield. Why the grass that ripples in the breeze holds that dark, fresh green?

A white bundle of fur behind those big brown eyes
A black nose and pink tongue that pleases when one cries
A big paw that taps your lap when you sit
A wagging tail, twitching ears, excited barks and a sweet lick

Wanting nothing but love and care and kisses and hugs,
My good and loyal friend, Falkor, the best, best, pup.
I say “dance”, but instead he rolls upon the floor