Mr. Curly

Today is a solid winter day. The temperature is slightly fluctuating around the freezing point. The daylight hours are diminishing. Night is here at 4:30 in the afternoon (but I shouldn't complain -- in my last city, Hamburg, it arrives at 3:30 p.m.). Outside, a deep fog is draped over the city. I'm glad I no longer drive because I can't see further than 20 feet down the street. But there is a fascinating side to it all. Everything outside feels soft, and sounds are definitely muted. I suspect that dogs love such a day. I saw a black poodle at the bus stop today. Well, I saw him sometimes. His owner didn't have to keep him on a leash. He was the type that didn't wander far. But he did wander back and forth into the darkness and fog, spending a few moments at his owner's heels before wandering off again to inspect something else. As he wandered into the darkness, I felt a bit of anxiety, worried that he might not find his way back. But he did, every time. Eventually, his owner got on the bus and the dog hopped on afterwards, without needing a word of instruction. In fact, his owner spent all of this time talking to someone else, never even looking at the dog. A very loose, loyal relationship.