love is a battlefield

I sometimes wonder what Baxter thinks of all my picture taking. Most of the time, he's pretty easy and goes along with the plan, letting me snap away and even throwing an occasional Tyra glance my way to sweeten the results. Most of the time, I found out, unless he is at a civil war battlefield.

Acres and acres of open land and the scent of freshly mown hay captivated Baxter's senses while we roamed the battlefield park after our time at the doxie festival. Where soldiers once fought, now a little wiener dog happily trundled with nose glued to the ground in search of bunnies.

With so much to smell and so little time to do it in, Baxter threw me a Tyra only once, by the gigantic statue of Stonewall Jackson. Enough, he hoped, to get mom off his back so he could get on with the hunt.