Sundog at My Window on a Midwestern Winter’s Afternoon

Glistening white sunlight bounds through my window, bouncing across the wooden floor like a pristine and puffed up Bichon Frise parading across the room with such pomp, you’re tempted to believe they understand the concept of “best in show.” The rays jump onto my lap, lick my face, nuzzle my neck, and I let it happen, knowing that by 4:30 p.m. the playful pup will be gone and I’ll again be cold, dark, alone.