My friend's foot is in a cast. I went to visit. She gave me coffee and a fresh, homemade scone. Apparently she hasn't been staying off her feet 24/7.
But hobbling around the house is about all she can do, and her sweet, relatively large dog is being patient about it.
"Is he getting walks?" I asked.
"When I have a volunteer," she said.
You know the rest. I enjoyed a walk around a quiet, Altadena neighborhood with a dapper escort in the form of Kirby, the yellow lab. (I'm guessing about the spelling of his name. "Kerby" would be a pun. "Curby" would be a double pun.)