(no subject)

No matter what else may be happening in Milliways, some constants remain. Among them, the need to walk the dogs, or at least let them out, before going to bed. So Feuilly is out in the last light of the evening: just enough light to see the white tip of Lady's tail when she runs off to the edge of the mowed lawn and starts weaving in and out of the longer grass. Hector has no such flighty notions. He's a self-respecting lymer who likes his leash and likes to plod along at the length of it, nose to the ground, while he finds a suitable spot to do his business.