It doesn't seem like it has been 17 months since Missy, the World's Most Cowardly Mutt, died. Whenever I see any dog my thoughts go back to her and our mutual admiration relationship. She spent her last days in BFE and because of the low windows she left her marks on most of them. I washed the windows (I swear) before I rented it out last year, except for this area in one of the front windows. It still remains an area where her noseprints survive. I can't bring myself to wash it off. This is the last of Missy, and now that the house has sold, I assume that her carbon pawprints, or noseprints will cease to exist altogether. But as long as I see dogs with owners...she lives.
Class, Or Lack Thereof The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois. I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless. Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001. It was one of those things that can generate crime: two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job. Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things. Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold. But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find. His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead. He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds. He will be paralyzed for life. None of this is pleasant. Reading the facts of the murder and attempted murder are most unpleasant
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