The rumble stopped and I emerged from the bunker.
I made quick work of some dinners and tentatively agreed to go back to the out of doors.
I say 'tentatively' because I made sure this 'Mama' person sat down in a patio chair and left the door open... before venturing over the threshold. I did quick business, keeping one eye on her and the other on the door.
Back on the inside, the old gal plunked down on the floor with me. I was a bit reluctant to be close, and it seemed to bother her, but she respected it. It didn't stop her, however, from waxing a poetic bedtime story of the hopes, dreams and promises of her heart.
As my eyelids grew heavy, I had three thoughts... first, her hopes might just exceed mine. Second, there's something about her... that I can't quite put my paw on.
And last... in promise, there is hope. (I'll expound on that if I ever get back to Aunt Melinda's).
Monday MOMandMEday - No SUN here for our SUNday - No Lord Waldo - No Lord PF on HIS point - ...and as I was putting this together to stage for posting, I hit The PF Pala...