Wet Dogs And Sleepless Nights

Yesterday it really rained for the first time in weeks and my rough collie, ever the eighteen month old  lady, sat in the garden playing pull the garden hose (the lovely roll I make is now a squiggly mess around the flower beds) and was thoroughly drenched. Even after a hearty rub with the large towels she remained damp because of all that fur,  and she looked offended that I wouldn’t have her in the bedroom.

Just as well I didn’t because my mother, who suffers from agitated depression, spent every moment from midnight calling out so I didn’t get that much sleep. The third night in four days. I find myself longing for some respite care so I can get some rest and get out to see some friends.

My third living companion, the small terrier like dog who came to us eight years ago as a stray, drank our milk, wagged her docked tail and fell asleep,, not only doesn’t go out in the rain for even a second, she sleeps very soundly. Which has all lead me to a conclusion:

No matter how dysfunctional the people are around you, or how eccentric, or how weird, try to have one character in your life that let’s it all go by so you can too.

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January 2019
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