Thanks a Lot, Skeeter Davis

The thing that feels the strangest about Mischief being gone is the sense of tense. It's hard to describe. I can't put him into 'was' yet.

But ride the painted pony and life lurches forward. We sat around a dinner table with friends last night and they were talking about their lives and I wanted to talk about Mischief.

But nobody really cares about your sadness, unless it relates to them, unless it's someone they knew, or --- well, let's face it. A person.

Good, Plotnik just got home.

"Hi, I see you're back."

"Yeah, Doug, thanks for taking over yesterday."

"No problem, see you next time."


Today it's gloomy and Plottie has to face weatherproofing the decks, cleaning up the iris mess, getting his hair cut. It's cold already. It gets dark too early. Plotnik feels a little cut off from reality.

He doesn't feel all that sad, still he woke up singing that old Skeeter Davis song "The End of the World."

"Why does my heart go on beating?
Why do these eyes of mine cry?
Don't they know it's the end of the world?
It ended when you said goodbye..."

Last night, he kind of picked at his Thai food. Duck said afterwards he seemed distracted.

It's just that song. It made him cry when he was a teenager and when he hears Skeeter's voice it still goes right through him, like a puppy through a garbage can you forgot to close, and there's food all over the floor, and he's smiling and his tail is wagging a million miles an hour. That's what it is. That song.