These photos were taken yesterday, in a busy subway station. Now, that day seems like a week ago. J & I went out early for breakfast, so early that the subways weren’t even running yet, and the only other people on the streets were joggers and dog walkers. I find myself wishing that every day was like Sunday (morning).
Sorry, corny Morrissey joke there, but it’s true!
The problem with being up so early on Sundays is The Littlest Hobo is on. I despised that show as a child, but now I am drawn to it. To illustrate why, let me copy and paste some of the plot summaries for episodes:
When Hobo witnesses a hit-and-run accident, he marshalls evidence against the driver and forces a confession.
Hobo mans a disco control panel and helps the victim of an underworld frame-up.
Hobo aids a captain whose crew mutinied and stole pearls.
When a young photographer accidentally takes an action picture of a bank robbery, Hobo tries to persuade him to turn it over to the police. When instead he decides to wait and sell the shot to the papers, Hobo has to protect him from his own bad judgement and angry reprisals from the robbers themselves.
Hobo turns health inspector when botulism is discovered at a campground.
A mime and a deaf boy help Hobo prevent a robbery.
Let me remind you that Hobo is a dog. Now I think you understand why I need to watch it when it’s on. I truly think it’s the best thing Canada has ever created.
