A couple of days ago I got a letter in the mail, a letter that had found its way to me at our temporary house via the USPS’s incredibly slow forwarding service, a letter that I think the senders figured had dropped into a black hole.
I opened this letter and found that it was indeed a MAGIC letter, because out fell Clue’s follow-up X-rays and a gorgeous orthopedic dog bed that I had pined and fretted over and desperately wanted. This is a BED, people. It’s more comfortable than MINE is.
This magic letter made me gasp and cry and then I dried my tears and jumped around and squealed.
And Clue immediately said “Now THIS is a bed” and has rarely left it since. Thanks to that magic letter she can be right next to me when I work (she has permission to be confined in a small room now, and doesn’t need a strict crate anymore, as long as she doesn’t walk around or do stairs), which is where she wants to be, luxuriously supported on NASA-invented memory foam. She brings Mr. Carrot on the bed and chews her bully sticks on the bed and lies on her back and moans softly.
Listen, I wasn’t kidding. This is the best bed ever.
So thank you, thank you, THANK YOU, magic letter senders. Every time I look down and see how comfortable she is it makes my throat squeeze up tight. And to also know that there is a bit of magic tucked away in a drawer that will get those follow-up films literally lets me sleep at night.
All of life’s richest blessings on you for what you did.