Nothing never truer than Cody and some other dog goofing around on the brewery floor, dog-owners telling frowning brewery-owner not to worry, 'cause, "It's cool, they're both house-trained." Dog is my co-pilot. Later, drunk, we chucked heavy, wet snowballs at the two-story brick wall across the bar patio. They made a phumpf when they hit they wall, then half stuck, half fell. I told her that accuracy isn't so much strength as it's all in the form. She mentioned Nashville, passingly, among her laundry list of places lived. "Marry me, leave Kentucky--." "Come to Tennessee," she said. "You are the only ten I see."
How did Cody do? He didn't. They yelled "Go!", he sat on his ass and licked his paws.
How did I do? I had the most fun I've had in months.