I'm leaving the office tonight with a list of errands to run before I head home. Get in the truck and suddenly get this overwhelming feeling that something is wrong with Preacher--my house dog. So I do one errand, can't think of anything else so I drive home in the fog, cursing at the people in front of me--who were driving quite sensibly for the conditions! I live a long way out of town, so by the time I get home, I am in tears, having managed to convince myself that Preacher is dead and that will be the first thing I see when I open the door. He sleeps in the porch all day. Run into the house, ignore the other dogs and the cats, whip open the door, to be greeted by Preacher, just standing up to stretch. He'd like out for a pee, but otherwise he is just fine. I am sure he thinks I'm completely insane. I've been hugging him and loving on him all night now......
I think I need a vacation!
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