It is difficult to write anything when you have, as they say, an embarrassment of riches from which to choose. Schuster, for example, should have been called Havoc, given that that is the way he leaves the house and what he makes me want to do: "Cry Havoc!". Mary is/was in Texas; I am/was on my own with 4 dogs (well, 6 counting Schuster), Pinkie the cat, Dusty the outside cat, and Possibly the possum (Possibly the outside possum).
My body does not work well at all anymore. I cannot catch the little beast. I cannot crate him at night. He mocks me daily. He pees on the floor beside the pad instead of on the pad--well, half the time; thus the mockery. He figured out how to get into the blocked-off upstairs carpeted rooms by crawling under the sofa by the door. At first I thought he jumped over the barrier. Who knew he could get that close to the ground though and wiggle through. Inside the room, he tore up a series of decorative lamp shades, some odd colorful costume material (not mine), a collector's outfitted teddy bear (also not mine), and he pooped on the floor. He POOPED on the floor!
The last I saw he was outside on the deck wrestling with Simon. Simon on the inside attacks only pillows and he does that right in front of us. Well, that is not quite true. I was remembering Frollie's and Dexter's food bowls which he also attacks, as I have explained before.
In any case I am exhausted.
However, now it is time to feed everyone, all "6" dogs, Pinkie the cat, Dusty the outside cat, and possibly, Possibly the outside possum.