The rules governing Father’s Day have not been posted anywhere I can find.

It is 07:44. Dad is at the desk. I am at his feet. The cookie jar is directly above me. By any reasonable accounting, he should be reaching into it right now in recognition of the occasion — which is, I am told, tomorrow, though the distinction seems administrative at best.

What I understand: there is a day. It concerns fathers. Dad is one. We are the reason.

What I cannot determine: the direction of the gift.

Gus has formed no opinion. He is on the studio sofa. He has decided the entire matter is above his pay grade, which, given that neither of us is paid, is a philosophical position I respect but cannot share.

The morning is 18°C and entirely clear. The ponderosas are doing what they do. Everything is calm and orderly except for this one unresolved jurisdictional question.

I remain at the desk. I have made my position known through proximity.

The cookie jar has not moved.

We will see how this resolves.

#pawscarwilde #fathersdayambiguity