Briefly Fleeing the Dog Days

NORTH OF COLORADO SPRINGS — A fine mist is sweeping through the ponderosa pines and quaking aspens on this late July morning just after sunrise. I sit outside under a pole barn, watching a pair of geese named Precious and Snow White pecking the ground inside their pen. Yesterday we fed them our watermelon rinds from the slices served us each morning by the proprietor of the bed-and-breakfast where we are staying. Both the geese, a Rhode Island Red named Ethel, and an aged Golden Retriever who goes by Scootie Patootie eagerly chowed down on the rinds. It was a revelation to know both fowl and an old dog would...

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