Love. Yep.
When the last one that counted left after several drunken, stoned years, slave to her addctions (in remission when she came to live here), I told her, “The next time I want something to pat, I’ll get a dawg”.
8 years ago.
I’ve gotten used to it.
Murphy the Monk.
Still love ‘em but cannot lead a meaningful life with any gal I know.
I’ve got a good dawg. She barks if anyone comes up the road.
Needed the warning when the last one changed her mind after leaving and kept climbing the gate stoned, pissed, and pissed off, walking half a mile in the dark to show up at 0230 to express her displeasure.
She sho did put the others in the shade, though, including the mother of my kids.
Peace and a meaningful life more important to me at this stage of my life.
But, still…
heheheheheh