Homeless With A Guest Room

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If there ever was a perfect picture of my inner soul at the moment…

If you have men who will exclude any of God’s creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity,

you will have men who will deal likewise with their fellow men. – Francis of Assisi

I got invited to visit a friend. You can stay with me, he said. Then he told me he had sold his house. I guess I’m homeless with a guest room, he said.

Like the way that sounds. Homeless with a guest room. No idea what it means. I’m going anyway.

When we go we are bringing the puppy. The Notorious RBG. Ragnar BadAss Gonzo. He’s more than a dog, he’s a hobby. Imagine a furry hand grenade.

Like living with an actual Youtube video. “No senior citizens were harmed in the raising of this puppy.”

He’s annoying, he’s a lot of work. He’s perfect.

He is also traveling with me. With us.

The Mother of Dragons has always dreamed of voyaging – you know, wherever – invariably accompanied by her lovely loving canine companions.

We are a party of four. And we get up early. A few of us bark.

Otherwise enchanting.

And we might be coming to your house.

I know, I know. Additional fees may apply.

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