So we went east and took to the backwoods of Big Pine Key. Cheyenne was happy, and she expressed her joy by turning her back on me.
Rain threatened over here too, thick black clouds on all sides.
Cheyenne dropped in on me from time to time, busy chasing smells and looking for foul water to drink.
A successful hunt for fresh smells. How she didn't go mad in her last home chained and caged for eight years.
In a land of no hills no lakes and not much dirt the landscapes tend to resemble themselves.
The sun came out and forced the sniffing Labrador to pause for breath.
I do like these quiet open spaces, Cheyenne and I have them to ourselves.
Well, not quite. I have no idea what a huge pile of empty lobster heads was doing on this trail. Nothing legal I can only assume.
We make such a huge deal out of lobsters that the unscrupulous among us will do whatever they can to turn them into profit. One doesn't want to speculate but what the hell is wrong with people? Poverty? Greed? Stupidity?
All of us do stupid things from time to time but slaughtering lobster and dumping their shells in the woods just smacks of mean spiritedness.
That was a satisfying walk it seems lobster murder be damned.
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