Two weeks ago, I was trying to prepare for not having a dog at Hallowe’en.
Now, she is sitting next to the couch, staring happily up at me as I scritch her neck around the Elizabethan collar. (This is the plastic cone of shame a pet gets after surgery, to be clear, not part of a seasonal costume.)
A quiet night before NaNoWriMo starts is in order, and I am glad.
