Thursday, April 02, 2020


The phone rang back in the first week of March, when things were first starting to get crazy. Seeing who it was, I let it go to voicemail because I just wasn't ready to deal with it yet.

The other morning, because I had to drive right past it to get to Indy Arms Co to pick up a couple test guns, I listened to the message from The Paw Patch Place. Rannie's paw print was ready to be picked up.

Because we're in crazy times, I pulled into the parking lot and called, and one of the vet techs came out and put a small bag on the hood of the car. After she went back in, I retrieved the bag with an alcohol wipe in my hand.

After forty-eight hours of letting it sit in the garaged car, I brought it in and opened the little box that was in the bag.

Turns out my feelings are still pretty raw.