So, I pull in my driveway and the Butcher and Mrs. Wigglebottom are running around in the front yard, playing a raucous game of “chase me, chase you” and I roll down my window to shout words of encouragement, “Get that boy! Get that boy!” and the dog looks up and snaps her head around and when she sees it’s me, she just looks like my arrival is the best thing that’s happened to her all day. She ran along side the car clear to the back of the house.
“I think she was running like five miles an hour!” I said to the Butcher.
“Um, that’s not very fast.”