“Can Coco come out and play?”

Well, Coco thinks the Global Warming is all about her, so now that the temperature has gone from the teens into the 50s (yesterday it hit a balmy 63 according to my car thermometer, which I’m all but sure was calibrated by scientists), the above question is much on her mind, and she thinks that it is my responsibility to throw her stick.

I don’t mean just throw it.
I mean really throw it.

Over and over.
A hundred times is not enough!

Don’t just stand there pointing that thing at me!
I’m glad Coco doesn’t write fortune cookies or she’d be laying this message at my feet:

I’d have to get all defensive and say something like, “But Coco, what if being a stick in the mud is my lifestyle?”
(Fortunately, I don’t have to. Not that such philosophical complexities would matter to Coco….)