Or so I was about to write. When I woke this morning I discovered that Sunny’s condition had worsened over night. He now has very little chance of making it to the litter box in time, even though he and it are never more than 9 feet apart.
I cleaned up the droplets that followed wherever he went, fed him yet another bottle of baby food. By now I’ve depleted my grocer’s supply of strained meat Gerber jars and have to find a new store to pillage this morning.
I made coffee, I opened the drapes, I stepped outside and got the paper. And then I thought about Churchill. You know, he started each day with a Scotch (though he did somehow make it last till .) I selected a perfect Riedel glass and poured in (a modest amount) a 1997 Stag’s Leap Chardonnay. Perfect.
Now Wednesday may once again be one of my favorite days of the week.