… done. Earlier this week my shy, teenage, eight month old pup joined me in the perfect storm. She spooked and lunged. I tripped and weighted. And when I looked up there she was - my fifty pound, big white dog - backing away from me, her harness empty in my hand.
What's done is . . .
What's done is . . .
What's done is . . .
… done. Earlier this week my shy, teenage, eight month old pup joined me in the perfect storm. She spooked and lunged. I tripped and weighted. And when I looked up there she was - my fifty pound, big white dog - backing away from me, her harness empty in my hand.