Mr. Wild Dingo and I took a walk into Morges on Sunday evening at sunset. It was bitter cold so we tried out Loki's new coat. It was fairly easy to put on him, and he seemed happy enough to wear it, until it was time to go on the walk. He refused to leave the house. Internet, I totally am not making this up. He was like a stubborn preteen who was wouldn't be caught dead in something so uncool.
"Hey Daddy-O, those threads are fly."
"If I'm lyin' I'm flyin', Big Boy. You're so sharp, you're bleeding."
"Check out the golden gal, eleven o'clock. That's a fine frame, no parts lame."
"Big Boy, you'd better have some crust if you're gonna sport that zoot suit for a dame like that."
Poor Loki. I guess we'll resort to the coat for cold days only and keep his integrity intact.
Here are some shots of Morges that night. I love this town. It's so magical at sunset.
A fog set over the lake, making the Alps appear eerie.
On the pier to the right, three bongo players beat some drums and the town was the most alive since I've seen it in months.