Yesterday's mail had a sympathy card in it from the vet's office staff that treated Faith. You could tell the ones who really knew her because their comments were all about "what a sweet girl" she was. There's an ache there, to hear her nails clicking on the floor again...to feel her breathing next to us. I've got a feeling she and Butterbean are prancing and playing in doggie heaven. My call to the local authorities regarding my treatment by the smartass cop has not been answered so I'm assuming it's not meant for me to bitch about that one any more. Back in the day, I notified the local police chief of my unhappiness with a certain little law enforcement issue involving my (guilty) daughter and her friends because the entire procedure was conducted illegally by some idiot off duty cop who had a thing for her friend. I got a letter back and she went through local "intervention" with folks who didn't have a clue about how kids roll. But my voice was heard, by golly.
The grands are floating along, but not too safely. Daddy picked up new meds yesterday when he and Dusty were out so I returned today to count 'em out for mom. I spent the entire time there trying to explain to her that she didn't need to worry about what "twice a day" means because I'm the pharmacist. Lord,have,mercy. I feel sorry for BG if I'm that much of a micromanager at 80. I'm tough, but really? I'll give it up and let her take over when it's time. Time will tell.
Things are beginning to gel in my mind about what direction I should take with my artistic pursuits. My biggest cheerleader planted the idea of a coffee table book and so it shall be. The market seems to be there and I've just been sidetracked by trying to make a living and whatnot. Time's a wasting and I'm not getting any younger. There are stories to tell.
Happy weekend ya'll. May all your holidays be bright ^j^