
The biggest problem is when giant ol' Seamus stands up or moves around. Any bump in the road or turn has the potential to cause him to fall or sit on one of the smaller, older dogs. They in turn crab at him and I, in turn, holler into the back that "You guys had better not make me come back there!" Like a father on vacation with the back seat full of unruly children:

It's always a relief when we hit exit 30, entrance-way to the high peaks region. This past weekend was rainy and overcast, but that produced some spectacular views of low clouds drifting through the mountains:

I took a new turn seeking a place to let the dogs run a bit and saw this cloudy mountaintop. I think that it's Giant Mountain, but if not then it's Rocky Peak Ridge:


Wren and Wally enjoy the break from life in a car:

And Seamus and Winky sniff among the meadow flowers:

Wren and Fergus. I suppose some would consider it anthropomorphism to say that Wren is smiling here, but in a sense, I think that's exactly what she's doing. A yawn is sometimes a dog's way of expressing joy:

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