Despite my earlier threats, I did not spend Friday's afternoon photographing rolled and sunlit hay bales against the backdrop of an endless prairie sky (or something just as stereotypical).
I did capture something equally idyllic--my parents' basset hound, Pelagea (Polly), and spent a bit of time at a provincial park here, in the very center of the continent.
Polly is an untamed beast much like any other red-haired woman!
She was my surprise gift for my mom two years ago, after our first family dog had passed away. She was also the sister of my first basset hound, whom I lost at mere six months of age due to an unforeseen health condition. This remains a rather painful subject to discuss.
It suffices to say that I feel an additional connection with this clumsy and outgoing dog who greets me with hysterical barking whenever I fly in for a visit.
And even if that weren't the case, how could you not fall in love at first sight with those endearing basset wrinkles?