We were supposed to get another dog today, a rescue from Louisiana.

They called him Hiccup. We were going to call him Hutch.

Unfortunately, he was pulled from the transport because of a cough, which for a pup getting over heartworms (at the end of his three months’ rest), and now, it could be months, and possibly never, for us to give him a better life.

This is probably controversial to say, and people who don’t understand what animals bring to a relationship will probably crucify me for this, but my wife agrees, it’s like we’ve lost a child.

Intellectually, we know he’s probably still coming. He’s probably going to be fine and we’re going to love him and squeeze him and call him Hutch.

But in the moment…

I’m sorry if that’s offensive to you; it’s how we feel, and we’re not inexperienced in that area.

It’s silly, probably, but it still sucks.

Get better, Hutch. We’ll come get you if we have to (and that’s saying a lot, because we refuse to cross the border, until America smartens the fuck up.)

Target: 1700 words
Written: 1299 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Proof Of Conspiracy, Seth Abramson (recommended reading - puts all this Iran shit in a very different light.  This was not a Donald Trump, spur-of-the-moment, I need an Epstein distraction thing.  This has been on the books since his first term, courtesy of Putin, MBS, MBZ and motherfucking Netanyahu.)
Comics: Marvel Knights 4-7 (this is such a sad era for Marvel - and why does every writer that takes on Cloak & Dagger immediately want to either make them hate each other or swap their powers?  Why not lean into what made them so compelling in the first place?  Their co-dependence, mirroring their creation - their addiction to one another.)
Music: Haunted Cities, Transplants (so great)