Bitter, bitter cold

It sucks being a smoker.  I remember being in New York this summer, standing outside Laura's apartment in the sweltering heat sucking back my sweet cigarette and just praying for just a breeze of cool air, hell any kind of breeze would have been nice.  It was ridiculously hot.  I never knew such a thing was possible.

The dog came outside with me while I enjoyed the cold Arctic air.  He sat by the door and shivered in this drama-queen sort of way, whining to go back in the house. I'm really not sure why he came outside with me in the first place.  Perhaps he was thinking that there must be some sort of morsel of food but quickly realized that any chance of sniffing something out would be impossible with a frozen nose.  I opened the door and he charged in the house running directly to the vent underneath the computer desk in the back room. 

He loves the heat.  He spends hours under that desk basking in the artificial hot air that blasts from the furnace downstairs.  He's a funny dog that one.  He has the memory of an elephant and the patience of a 2 year old child.  But damn he's cute, if nothing else.