Grazin' in the Grass

I don't know what's in that little patch of weeds on the corner a block south of here. Whatever they are, Buster loves them. Every time we go past that corner - and that means on almost every walk - he insists on stopping for a minute or two while he has a little salad. I have to call him away, or he'd stay there until they were all gone.

Maybe he just feels the need for roughage....