"...I'm lookin' for the man who shot my Paw."
No one shot dear Rose, of course. Years ago, she'd been hurtling through the woods in her youthful, non-watchful way, and must have caught her foot in a hole, or in a pile of brush--and kept on running. She broke her leg that time, which was incredibly sad, because hauling a cast through the woods was much less fun.
She got lots of babying, though, and I would like to say she learned a valuable lesson... but Rose will always be the clown in the family. And with clowning comes vet bills. And skunk spray remover bills. And--well--I'd better reserve some of her antics for future blog fodder.
Suffice to say, Rose makes us laugh every day. It's one of her great many gifts to us.
This morning I'm going to think about a human in my life who cracks me up on a regular basis. And I'll try to remember a particular time that this person got me to guffaw, so I can laugh about it all over again today. (I find that memories of laughs are almost as funny--and rarely get you kicked out of the library.)
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Be engaged, but be nice.