Liz's George helped to show us the sites of the Gower Peninsula.
Yoli's Jazzie is a football fan.
I grew up with a dog named Mopsy. She was a white Cocker Spaniel/Maltese Poodle mix--they've since got a name: cockapoo--they look like a dust mop. Dad got Mopsy as a tiny pup when I was just a baby from a lady about half a mile along our road. When Mopsy (and I) were ten years old, she ran away. We lived near Camp Pendleton, and maneuvers on the base caused vibrations that made her agitated and restless. Whenever they were doing these training exercises she would wander, but she would always come back or be easily found. This time we looked and looked for her, but it was the same day my oldest nephew was born and everything was hectic. We eventually gave Mopsy up for lost.
One day a few years later, my Dad was making a business call at the property where Mopsy was born. The same lady still lived there. Dad was greeted by a friendly white cockapoo that looked like a mop. The dog's name was Flopsy. She had shown up at the site a few weeks after Mopsy went missing, obviously having had a rough adventure before reaching there. The lady had nursed her back to health and she had lived there happily from that time. Mopsy/Flopsy lived there at her original home until she was seventeen years old.
That rough adventure to find her way "home"? You see, it wasn't just a half mile jaunt down the road any more. In the time between Mopsy's adoption into our family and her return to her birth home, Interstate 5 had been constructed--right between the two addresses.
Aren't dogs amazing?