This guy. We’ve been out here for seven years. He never tires. He never worries. He itches. Perhaps that’s canine worry. But right here he’s staring at a pony on the yonder hill that materialized as the morning fog lifted. It’s a hay field, not a pony pasture, so it remains to be seen where pony belongs. He’d like to chase pony but he sits. Because I said, Sit Chevy. He’s a good listener, at times. He’s one of my three listeners. They’d rank like this— dog, cat, rooster. In listening skills and most other skills, too. Although, cat is gaining on cuddling strength and rooster, when he learns to restrain the poops, is going to be right up there, too. All of this to say, good morning Autumn, good morning Chevy. Good morning cuddly listeners.