I took old Gustav, the broken cat, in to have his splint and cast removed; he's now a free cat on four legs.
Then, as it was getting hot and humid in the Sandhills at mid-morning, I went to a friend's house in town to enjoy some air conditioning (this place is way too large and spacious to make air-conditioning feasible). No one was home, so I laid down on the living room couch there, and read myself to sleep.
I dreamed a primitive, as big as Fat Che, as ugly as the subway cat, and as mean as the "Kelvin Mace" primitive, came into the veterinary with a small cat-carrier. He had a large adult St. Bernard in the carrier, and once out, the poor animal cravened and cowered at the sight of the primitive.
The primitive said the dog wouldn't "behave" for him.
I took the primitive, stuffed him into the cat-carrier, and because he was so heavy, hired a crane to lift and carry the cat-carrier, taking it to the bridge, and tossing it into the river.
That is all.
The Sandhills now has a hellacious storm brewing, and so now it's cooled off, and I came back home.
