We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men Leaning together Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! Our dried voices, when We whisper together Are quiet and meaningless As wind in dry grass Or rats’ feet over broken glass In our dry cellar–T.S.Eliot
Tilly is in post-op day 9, the 9th day of restrained activity. Restraining a puppy, push down the energy in one area it will manifest somewhere else. She broke bad on breaking bad.
I planted three long leaf pines a year ago in the northern extent of their ancestral home. They look like grass at first, after a number of years they make the jump skyward. My trio is jumping!
Tilly at the door of Georgetown Vet, 0728hrs. Surgery today. Complicated feeling surrounding that but her 9 brothers will carry on the genetics. Prayers please!She likes the personnel at Georgetown, enters willingly.
Went up a mountain today courtesy of Walker. There were lots of places where he could have stepped off the path. He didn’t. I swatted mosquitoes and horse flies for him. He did me the favor of keeping us alive.
