Yesterday after breakfast (and before the day’s NFL Conference Championship games yielded the two teams I least wanted to see in the Super Bowl; but still: Go Giants, beat that Brady Bunch!), Susan and I went for a morning hike with Ranger in Bronson Canyon Park, a place I’ve been visiting since I was 12 years old. It was our first time back since 2005 with Shadow, in part because we’d been struck with a bit of the curiosité morbide following this week’s news of the discovery of the severed hands, feet and head of what turned out to be a local resident.
Ranger enjoyed the outing (though she wasn’t so thrilled when we walked through the made-famous-by-the-movies “cave” that is the park’s marquee attraction), which thankfully produced no additional body parts, but was tempered with the discovery afterward of several teeny tiny ticks trying (unsuccessfully thanks to our efforts) to turn Ranger into their host.