November 9, 2012
He splashes through a swirl of mud until he converts to dog paddling across the center of the pool. He emerges on the other side, gives himself a good shake, then charges off into the fall foliage.
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Lobo crashes through the fallen leaves, scattering questions on why the season’s change has such an impact
“Lobooooooo,” I holler, as a breeze swirled up the East Verde River, setting the yellow cottonwood leaves a flutter.