A Holy War

Last weekend, while I was raking leaves and leaping into them, the dogs were at loose ends.  Everyone was in the yard, but nobody wanted to play!  What kind of world were we living in, anyway?  Who do I talk to about this?  IF I HAD TWO THUMBS AND THE RIGHT TO VOTE I WOULD WRITE MY SENATOR ABOUT THIS.

And then they found the Holy Grail of Sticks.

The Battle of Stick raged for years, dragging on as bleak days became endless, cold nights.

Pax was called just twice, once when they dropped it in some leaves and briefly could not find it, and a second time because, well, even in wartime, butts need to be scratched.

Finally, at long last, a victor emerged:

And so began the process of reconstruction for this poor, war-torn land.