Bud is a Jekyll and Hyde dog. Even though he is undersized, he thinks he is a giant. Moise went by on his carriage this morning and pulled to the side to say hello.

I’ve haven’t had the chance to talk to him for a week or so; he is buried in work for his new home.

Bud heard the horse and pushed open the back screen door. He went right after the horse, barking, circling the wagon, ignoring my demand that he stop. He didn’t bite the horse, but he got close to his hind legs before I could get there.

The horse turned, whinnied calmly but forcefully, stomped his front leg, and then flicked his rear leg.

Bud turned instantly around and made a beeline for the back door, growing and humphing all of the ways. He was all puffed up and proud of himself, sniffing at the other two useless dogs in the kitchen.

He seemed to not have noticed that the horse was still here.

When the Amish horses come here, Fate dashes through their legs to get to the pasture.

Zinna comes up slowly, tail wagging like an airplane propellor blade. She sniffs, then moves away.

Bud, pleased, hopped onto his new child’s wicker throne, which he already loves, and went to sleep.

I decided to take a portrait of the Little King on his throne.

Moise wanted to know if I could give him a ride to Albany tomorrow, but I had to say no. I’m going to Bishop Maginn to meet a young teaching aide who represents the future of Bishop Maginn. I’ll be writing about her.

I’m sorry I could take Moise, we haven’t had a chance to talk much in the last week or so. I’ll have more chances, for sure.

I used a tripod and my Leica for a portrait of the mighty Bud, fierce on the battlefield, a pussy cat at home.