Back at home, Jake’s morning routine never varies: He gets up when we do. Bolts to the front door. Runs out to pee on a bush and then fetches the paper. (He used to make two trips but, sadly, Denver is now a one-newspaper town.) Brings it back to the kitchen. It’s his only real job and he is paid with one scoop of dog food. It’s the canine version of “Groundhog Day”…rain or shine or snow. He woke me up at the hotel 6:15 am this morning, probably wondering how this was going to work at the Westin. I threw on some jeans and a cap, got his leash and plastic food dish, and headed outside to a grassy area on the side. Breakfast al fresco on a crisp mountain morning. We walked across the street so I could get a coffee and a pastry. I took this photo on the railroad tracks on the way back.