I was in the car at the rest area, waiting for George to do his business, when I noticed a woman sitting, then laying, on the ground in front of the building with her dog. The dog was sprawled on its side and the woman, who clearly loved her pet, was rubbing its belly. After a few moments, the dog stood and I realized it was quite large. Oddly for the 95 degree weather, it had on a coat similar to what might be draped on a horse in freezing temperatures.

George walked past the pair as he returned to the car so I knew he had gotten a good look.

“That certainly is a big dog,” I said as he settled into his seat.

“No, darlin’,” he said in a tone that indicated he clearly thought I should be able to identify animals. “It’s a sheep.”

Sheep? At a rest stop? Oh…that’s right… we were in Montana….

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