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.