Bowser’s eagerness to get going today was uncharacteristic even for the overgrown pup. His enthusiastic yips forced my overgrown rump out of slumber and into the early morning chill.
With one sniff, he bolted and was gone. Laboring along behind, wishing he’d given me time to start the coffee, I heard his excitement change timbre. With a new urgency, he called to me.
“What is it boy? What!” I hurried on and caught up with him around the bend. Bowser was on point at a holly bush. Fallen berries blazed red on the snow-covered ground. Berries…no, crimson beads of blood.