Buddy Comes Home at Noon

The vet didn’t think Buddy was in good enough shape to come home last night. I was upset but it was probably for the best. I got a good night sleep, Finney had me all to himself for a night.

I called this morning and the vet said Buddy looked good but he doesn’t want to move around, except he said that was understandable. My poor little baby. I’m a little afraid I’m going to be freaked when I see him.

For the millionth time, I hate that you can’t explain things to them. I hate that I can’t tell him why we’re doing what we’re doing to him. I’m making him a box-cave by the radiator. It’s a place to hide where it’s warm. Sigh.

Anyway. What else is going on with me? I sent the third draft of my book proposal to my agent. She’s showing it to a fellow agent for feedback. That’s scary, but the fellow agent is smart, and she likes my work so her feedback will be valuable (even if it does me yet more work on my part). God I hope I get to write this book.

It was snowing out this morning. I took this picture right before it stopped.

Stacy Horn

I've written six non-fiction books, the most recent is Damnation Island: Poor, Sick, Mad, and Criminal in 19th-Century New York.

View all posts by Stacy Horn →

3 thoughts on “Buddy Comes Home at Noon

  1. Hugs to Buddy, and hope he will rally once over the initial trauma of surgery. Did you learn anything about what the vet found yet?

    Good luck on your book proposal. I sure hope you get to write the book, can’t wait to read it!

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