Yes, I can legitimately blame this little alien creature for reducing my average daily page count by 20 to 30 percent. But I sure hope he gets well, darn it.

The Doglet, a k a Frisky Sublett, a 12-year old yorkie, is seriously ill. Please send your good vibes. Prayers, Tibetan chants, psychic chew toys, also graciously accepted. After a rough long weekend of all-night vigils, he’s currently in the specialty hospital on chemo with a 50-50 chance that he’ll come home and for a few weeks, maybe a year, prevent me from getting any work done again, insisting on twice-a-day trips to Wendy’s for a burger patty and fries, or the equivalent (recent favorite: Jack In the Box tacos). You may have seen us together at Texas Coffee Traders, Jo’s on South Congress, the Snack Shop, Yard Dog, Yellow Rose (just kidding about that one to see if my wife Lois reads my blog!)… anyway, you’d know us anywhere. Just so you know, before the Doglet, I was exclusively a cat person. Now the cats miss him, too. Woof!


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