I have less than 20 minutes. It promises to be a busy day. I've got 75 pounds of cabbages to bag up and deliver. Then, there's a cheese run to Muscoda with the Amish family. I have no time to proofread or to download a photograph. If there were a picture it would be focused on my face with the Pooch standing on the console table in the kitchen, whiskers full of cat lint. I'd be singing Brenda Lee's hit song, I'm Sorry, So Sorry, Please Accept My Apology...
He's been gone since 6:30 am Thursday. In the 24 hours-a return to the novel, The Agony & Ecstasy. I've had unkind thoughts. Home for two days and then gone. I felt so used. I imagined we are some form of cat Bed and Breakfast. I went up to the neighbors and asked about the Pooch, figuring he was squirreled away in their hay mow. Almost everyone I speak to on Thursday hears a sad tale of woe about the cat's disappearance, again. After Dawn gets home from work, we travel the mile and a half to the Amish farm to look at puppies. We choose the runt of the litter, a feisty black and white female. In the evening I make plans for a dog run and a containment area between the house and garage. The pup has to be confined when I go about dangerous chores on the farm, like mowing.
At 5:00 am on Friday, I'm back whistling in the foggy dawn hoping the Pooch can hear me from the haymow. I cut cabbage, peel the outside layers and bring them back to the house for a quick rinse. After a breakfast of leftover ham and cheese omelet and potato salad, I grab my keys and head to the barn that is really just a shed. Unlocking the door, the Pooch pops out and does his mrrt noise. Oh Poochie. I'm sorry. So sorry.
After a dish of fresh chicken livers and a quick brushing, Dawn and I slather him with kisses and hugs. Dawn tells him he's in for a surprise.
I know I promised a note about the cookbook. Yesterday's post which never made it online is called the Ootensile Family. It did make it to the Amish farm where everyone had a good laugh. I'll bring it to you, soon.
10 hours ago