Somewhere in Larkspur, exhausted and undoubtedly exhilarated after a nice, long deer chase. That's me in the background.

She's still quite trim here. We always figured her food scrounging was a product of her time as an orphan puppy on the shores of the Russian River. Even after becoming firmly ensconced as a member of the family, she learned that she could easily wheedle food from some of our neighbors and eventually developed a sausage-shaped midsection.