Friday, December 11, 2009


At night I imagine we're in an airplane, or a submarine, on a desert, or in the Arctic. The wind moves against the house like a real presence, with an eerie, lonely, growl. The ghost of winter cometh, visiting for days, waking us in the nights. Like a sad dog.

Whiskey & Mo got their annual shots today. D got the vet to clip W's nails, as we had tried with no luck. He was very difficult apparently... and our vet said it's obvious he was hit when he was a puppy. Usually it's hard for her to tell but with Whisk she can say that for sure (he would flinch back whenever she moved her arm). It made me so sad to hear this, I almost cried. But at least now we have him and we love him sooo muchhh.

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