I was awakened at three this morning by the violent head shaking and rattling tags that presage a foxtail in Bessie's ear. What is it with this poor dog? She was just cleared by the doctor yesterday: throat is better, blood pressure normal, all tests negative, vaccines administered. And now this. Of course, now I'm awake and she's asleep.
Tractor Guy snuck over again and finished disking the south pasture. What a nice man.
A call from my son Pete informed me that, indeed, what goes around comes around. What a child does to a parent comes back to bite when that child has a kid of his own. Bruised, battered, thoroughly embarrassed, but not broken, my grandson did one of those dumb things that teenagers do and ended up injured and in the emergency room. It put his parents through hell, but he came out in one piece, for which we are all grateful. It gave Pete flashbacks to his own youthful escapades. Having raised three sons, I sometimes think boys have a hidden self-destruct button that they simply must try out every so often. It seems that a second generation of guardian angels is on duty. The males in this family work 'em overtime.
Company is coming today. I'll have to kick the bags under my eyes out of the way to get to the door, but I am so looking forward to their arrival. At least Bessie is getting some rest.