The sun was lying gently on the water tower as I stirred my little pot of morning oats and gazed out the kitchen window. Just as the peak of the roof across the street got its kiss of light, an impatient and hurried white-haired fellow hove into view with his two little dogs, as he does every morning. One appeared to be a chihuahua and the other seemed to be a wonderful mix of schnauzer and dachshund with the most comical walk. He had such short legs that he looked to be in a desperate hurry, which must have gratified his human companion. As man and his beasts tramped the street, a crow was in their path. The dogs were willing to engage the crow, however their master would have none of that. He took his usual position of quickly walking toward his destination, looking neither to the right nor to the left. As they progressed, the crow lifted himself up and slowly landed upon a post, mocking and scorning with all his might, to the infinite frustration of the little doggies. In no time at all, Master yanked the leashes and poured forth a lecture on the evils of pulling. The dogs very politely and earnestly gave ear to their beloved and, immediately upon resuming their walk, were dive-bombed by the naughty crow. Whereupon, pulling commenced with as great a force as two miniscule canines could accomplish. Master, appearing to realize the futility of trying to stop the wild behavior of his charges, set his face like a flint and headed for home with the two warriors flailing at the ends of their leashes and the crow making their lives miserable. As they disappeared around the bend, I smiled and longed for my own dearly departed doggy. I dished up my oatmeal, sat at the table, and watched out the window for the next dog and pony show.