I'm feeling very virtuous today, having walked my dog two miles exactly. I know it's two miles exactly because the streets in Phoenix are in a perfect grid. The streets that are named run east and west and are one mile apart. The streets that are numbered run north and south and are varied, usually only a block or two apart. We walked up the canal park from the Thunderbird overpass to the Greenway overpass and then back. Well, I walked. Justice chased birds and an occasional rabbit (which, I'm happy to report, because of an old leg injury he can't catch), ran in and out of the stream to cool himself off, and generally just had a good time. This is the first time we've done that length and it feels great, although we are both quite stinky, and after his forays through the water my dog smells like pollywogs. Ick!

My husband says if it weren't too weird he'd be jealous of the dog because Justice is such a loving, loveable beast and I dote on him unlike most other humans I know. Why? Because he never smirks at me when I say the wrong thing and he doesn't mind if I don't put my makeup on and he's always ready to go on time. He sits on my feet when they're cold and he comes and nudges my hand with his head when he thinks we need a little cuddle. When I'm dieting he doesn't call up and beg me to please, please try the new Mexican place or have just one more bite of cake. I think people should behave more like dogs. Life would be more pleasant.