The White Dog Army stared intently at the GPS screen watching for the big square of green that indicates a Park...they are funny to observe, these backseat drivers, craning their fluffy White necks as the map scrolled and angled to match the drive. Steve turns it on to amuse them more than for directional need.
At the Park, White Dog turned to Quinn, "Bro', I am in the mood to run. Can you handle maneuvers with the WDA while I stretch my legs?" Quinn looked at me and I nodded that it was OK, I would keep an eye on WD if he could handle the rest. TOWD squared up his shoulders, lifted his head and called the troops to order...then, with Steve's help, they headed across the lush green grass into the golden Autumn morning.
