Dogs and peaches

Why is it that dogs can remember the meaning of "sit" or "stay" and they know that when you reach for the leash it means going outside to play but they can't remember, from hour to hour, that it is too hot outside for any living creature?  They will get up from the couch every hour or so and hop merrily to the door, waiting for me to open it so they can go outside.  They walk happily out the door, stop about three feet into the yard and the recognition hits them:  oh, my!  It is too hot to be out here!  They turn around and come back inside immediately, disappointed once again.

I keep thinking they will equate the door with the heat, since this has happened every day since I have been here. But no.  They continue to expect a nice, breezy afternoon out there and they are once again shocked that not only is there no breeze, there is no breathing either.  Sadly, they keep trying.

On a different note, I bought Texas home-grown peaches at the little Grand Prairie farmers market on Saturday, thinking that they would be like most peaches I have eaten in the summer:  peachy.  But these peaches are unlike any I can ever recall eating.  These are quintessential peaches.  These are what peaches are supposed to taste like, pure peachiness, all juicy and luscious, fragrant, sweet, the perfect fruit.  I only bought three, thinking that would quell my stone fruit need, but I am definitely going back next Saturday and buying more, many more.  At last I have found something that Texas excels in, something that is good and positive instead of sad and depressing.  Hurray for these peaches!

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