I stopped for a juice on Duval Street, a reflection perhaps that summer is here. It's hot, no two ways about it. I read of blizzard warnings in the Rocky Mountain states and I have no doubt the prospect of skiing is going to render them almost as giddy as the possibility of enough snow pack to end assorted droughts. Splendid.
Rusty does quite well in 90 degrees but his tongue does come out and he does seek out the shade. He has no taste for puddles and relies on me to supply clean water from the trunk of the car.
Rusty doesn't much like Duval Street with all the noise and crowds so I am making an effort to walk him as much as I can. But it is getting a little hot for that.