There are 64 days until the election. The madness associated with that buildup is not going to de-escalate. I’m sad to report that we may soon feel nostalgic for the soothing, tranquil vibes of August. So, on this Sunday, let’s lead with a love story from the NYT: “When Mr. Failor asked Ms. Raines for coffee in late March, he wanted to be up front about his devotion. ‘I thought, if she’s really going to understand who I am, I better bring some of my teammates with me,’ he said. He loaded three dogs into the cab of his truck and drove to Anchorage.” After that ice breaker, it was smooth sledding for a reporter and an Iditarod racer. You, Me and 53 Dogs. (I have two beagle brothers, which is the equivalent of having 53 dogs, just a little louder.)