Wednesday, October 14, 2015

white-faced thug muffin

The other morning Robert and I loaded up the dogs and set off on a breakfast adventure at a familiar haunt.  It was too cold to sit outside so the girls stayed in the car.  The whole time I was drinking my coffee and eating some grub it felt like I was being watched.  Sure enough, when I turned around, there she was, my white-faced thug muffin, patiently staring daggers into the back that abandoned her for breakfast.  

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