Bill discusses the machinery of death, the logjam at Social Security, and the malevolence known as “Hoge”.
so, it’s a quarter after eleven. It’s a Sunday night, and I just crawled into bed after looking at myself in the mirror and realizing that aged 10 years in the last week.
I turned off the lights, got comfortable, and started looking for something to listen to on my new smartphone. All of a sudden, I hear a soft whining coming from down the hallway toward tj room. I realize it’s Raven. I call to her and she doesn’t respond. Now, is an old dog. She’s 10 years old. I figure she’s got a couple good years left in her. But, she is getting on in her years. and with age comes whininess.
So, I get up, turn on the light, and see her laying down by TJ’d bedroom door. I called her. She stood up and started toward me, but stopped right by the water bowl. She looked at the water bowl, looked at me, look at the water bowl, looked at me. and it’s sunk in. the bowl was empty.
it suddenly dawned on me, that I am the sole caretaker here at the Schmalfeldt dog ranch. I need to start setting routines, since Gail is not here anymore, and she got the poor things used to eating and drinking everyday. Spoiled babies.