No worries.  Sparky is back to his gallant old self.

Sparky says that ‘back’ is the wrong word, because he never stopped keeping watch on the wilder-people1 living in the borderlands2.  He says there are things in the woods that don’t have our best interests at heart, and they are on the move.

He objects to me calling him old, because he can run faster.  I can’t run fast or far, but Sparky runs like a fat kid.  When he runs to the house, I can keep up by walking fast.

1 To Sparky, anything with fur or hair, is people. I am starting to agree with him.
2 As near as I can tell, the borderlands are anywhere Sparky thinks he can find mice.

Talking to Sparky is like talking to my nephew Horace.  I’m never sure what he’s talking about, but it’s always interesting.  I don’t have to google as many words when I’m talking to Sparky.

Seriously, does this look like the face of a sentinel keeping us safe from the darkness?