The surgeon is going to take it out on the 28th. My parents are going to come down.
It’s fine, but I feel discombobulated. I’m already ready for my routine back.
The dressing gown was way too small.
The Butcher thinks someone tried to take the dog, let him out the the car and walked off with him and then, in typical Sonnyboy fashion, he saw the jogger, who was more interesting than the dognapper and took off after her and her dog.
Here is the thing. When the Butcher called me, even before he said a word, I knew something terrible had happened. And I felt that terror for about fifteen minutes. And then, I felt relief and I went on about my morning. I knew he’d found the dog, even before he said so.
I have to write this book.
And finish these afghans.
I feel sad and happy. I don’t really know how to explain it.
I’m glad the dog’s back.