Fred and I are resting today, because it’s been a trying week.
Well, I don’t want to minimize it.
It’s been a trying week and five days… 1,288 more words
In 2002, while Granny and Grampa (the Old Yankee Man) were in Florida, Grampa’s dog died.
Sunny was a ‘pound dog’. A collie/shepherd/who-knows-what-else mix.
JoHn and I had chosen her, with Granny’s ‘okay’, from the Humane Society, shortly after they lost JoHn’s childhood ShepHerd, Misty (who had become Grampa’s dog when JoHn went to college). 1,660 more words