When we last convened, I was in the hospital, cooling my heels with multiple blood clots in my breathing apparatus. I am out now. Not exactly kicking up my cooled heels, but plodding along adequately.
It may come as a shock to you that my sweet, sweet Juno missed me. Or, as Farmer H reported, "I told your juno you were sick she looked at me like I was nutes." Yes. That's an exact quote, straight from his text.
I replied, "You don't speak her language. Of LOVE."
Farmer H said, "Ya cat food. I will give her a hand full."
So...after three days away from my sweet, sweet Juno, I returned home to a happy pup. She greeted me on the side porch, as is our custom. I was weak. But I stopped to pet her. She gazed into my eyes with her own humanlike amber orbs. I swear she was grinning. Farmer H stood behind me on the sidewalk by the garage. A bit of an interloper. A chaperone of sorts. A fifth wheel.
"I'm kind of tired. I need to go in. Can you give Juno a little cat food?"
"Yeah. Here you go, dog." Farmer H grabbed a fistful of cat kibble and dropped it on the porch in front of him.
"There, Juno. Daddy got your snack." She walked over and took a bite. THEN CAME BACK TO ME AND LAID HER HEAD ON MY SHOULDER. If you don't grasp the gravity of this situation, let me remind you that Juno LOVES cat kibble. And when she came back to lay her head on my shoulder, THERE WAS STILL A PILE OF CAT KIBBLE ON THE PORCH!
My sweet, sweet Juno loves me more than cat kibble. I'm not worthy.