i want a pastoral watercolor life, gnome sane. hard to do in the city, word. we have a fragile grid here, mo. dog, you cant hardly find the country no mo anyway. it's a picture.
i should oughta update the early post wondering if we could do this thang. the cats laid together on the couch for hours, then penny came out, ate on the counter, the swinging door to, mister on the threshold. then jasper came slinking and walked up and sniffed mister's bed. then jasper went in the kitchen and i followed and he ate his food on the floor with a little garnish of freeze-dried pork. i'm all a sudden swung like swinging door thanking, we can do this thang. now i'm listening to mac demarco, this old dog, and feeling the sweetest thang of all, animal gratitude, which is goodly pastoral love. now jasper goes back in the kitchen, now penny jumps on the table by me, now jasper walks by not slinking, almost his old school strut. we back where we never been.
mister is the sweetest dog and the most adaptable i can dream of. he is amazing with the kids. letting them have their space, slowly coming round, no sudden moves, laying on his bed watching them parade around. sigh, it's so beautiful. i reward him with a bit of pork and goji berries. i'm living with the animal angels now, praise be,