36 hours

Here I am, two hours after declaring I'm spent and ready for bed. I took Jack out one last time. He surprised me by breaking free to chase after something. I dove for the leash in time to share retaliation from a skunk. If I look like a mess in this picture, I am a mess. I'm a smelly, soaking wet mess. I've begun at the end of my story and will return to the beginning.

Yesterday, as Dave and I packed up our children to join friends for lunch, we noticed the goat was out again. We weren't happy about, but it didn't worry us because he stays close to the llamas. Just before leaving, Dave took Tazor out one more time. I heard Dave scream, "Tazor No! Tazor Come!" Tazor bit the goat. The poor goat hasn't put weight on it since. The large animal vet wants to take an x-ray, something we cannot afford but need to make it work because it's the right thing to do.

Sunday, the next morning, we were out of toilet tissue, dog biscuits, dog food, eggs, sugar, bread, wine, etc. I braced myself to shop with Sam, it's exhausting. Every isle I remind him to stay visable, don't interfere with people at work or doing their shopping. Often I need to say "People don't want to buy meat (cheese, fruit, fish) with your thumbprint, hands to yourself!" As I waited in the checkout line with a full cart, I made it clear he was to stay seated by the door. I looked away for a second and poof, gone. I found Sam outside after several minutes of search and panic. I'm sure my verbal reprimand made everyone's blood turn cold. I didn't cry until Dave got home hours later. I appoligize for passing judgement on people who leash their children. For years I've avoided outings where I'm outnumbered because I've refused to leash him. I'll be getting one now with Sam Dewey's name on it.

I now return to the end of my story. I friggin stink. After two baths, Jack is tolerable. Maybe my next 36 hours won't suck this much.