Sometimes sun shines, lightens my self-caused troubles.
Drove hour half south to pick up our largely trained 12-week old Golden Labrador puppy. Serious storm way down, enough stress to take some of the danger-fun away. Way back, skies cleared, sun shone, puppy nestled and slept in Lady’s lap, the two bonding sweetly.
Then I hit speed trap . . . 86 mph in 70 zone. Watched in rearview as patrol car stirred, turned toward me a wee bit, started up, followed a while, and finally turned on lights and siren, me resigned, figuring 16 mph over limit I was fair prey
Two of the youngest. skinniest, most polite troopers came up passenger side, asked if I knew speed limit. Said 70. They replied no, it’s 65 here. My brain goes oh-oh, 26 mph over the limit, I’m toast. I let out an oomph “O,” hang my head, shake it, sincerely say I’m sorry. After they ask what we’re doing, Lady explains, they start petting the puppy, go back, return, say they’re letting me off with a warning, slow down, it’s 60 ahead, have a nice day.
Some of it I expect is I’m white male in white male country, also my elderliness probably helped. I know being really sorry and really really polite factored, but perhaps our saving grace was them petting Cookie and her licking their hands, their smiling bigly hugely fine.
Without luck, their ain’t no me.
Cookie’s a sweetie. Now ensues our 2 cat new dog glue.
