"If dogs could talk, it would take a lot of the fun out of owning one."

The house is cold and sunless. If this were winter, I'd be adding socks and a sweatshirt; instead, I relish the change from the August heat. The sky is gray but not rain gray. No cats lounge in the doorway, their usual morning haunt. They are on beds, curled into balls to keep warm. Gracie has played with her dog friend Cody, been in and out a few times and is now taking her morning nap. I can hear her deep breathing. The birds are loud this morning, and a woodpecker is tapping on a pine tree close to the window. I think it's the same bird I keep shooing away from the side of my house. A slight breeze brushes the leaves and their tips flutter, soundlessly.

A cool day sounds perfect for just a bit of shopping, maybe an antique store or two. I don't have much money, but that hasn't ever stopped me. Serendipity is all in the looking.

The weather is cool enough for Gracie to come along with me for company. She is the co-pilot. I drive and converse. Gracie acknowledges these one-sided conversations with an occasional lick on my cheek but usually finds looking out windows far more interesting than the blatterings of any human, even her own. She abides stops with an unending patience, and I keep a few treats on hand to thank her. We might even share a bit of lunch. Gracie, I suspect, finds lunch the highlight of any jaunt.

My dance card, once filled with summer plays and concerts, is nearly empty. Summer will soon slip into fall, my favorite season of the year.