No Maggie.
Each day after work, I drive to the mountain. I drive through the cemetery. I drive through neighborhoods where she's been spotted, over and over again. I hate to go home without my pup.
A lady told me she heard an animal crying around two in the morning. My heart breaks.
If I'm weary, how weary is my tiny pup?
Oh Maggie, please come home.
I swigged Fireball. A sip, I took a sip. The magic was performed, I went to bed and slept well. I dreamt of Maggie Rose running up to me like nothing was wrong. She has the heart of a warrior. I believe she will come home. She, and God, do not seem to be in any hurry. In the mean time, I have Fireball in the freezer, for, you know, ‘swigs’. Debbie size swigs.
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