This post started out one way, but took a different turn after a distressing end to my week. Let me explain.
As a child I was what’s known as a tomboy. I’m sure I disappointed my mom, who liked to place my long, wavy brown hair in braids or barrettes and dress me in pretty dresses I couldn’t wait to get out of. While she dreamed of a daughter to do crafts like crochet or paper toíle with, I was outside playing marbles or catching bugs with the neighborhood boys.
One thing that I did have in common with my mom is a love of animals. We didn’t have a lot of extra money growing up, but she always made room for the strays I routinely brought home.
Which brings me to this week:
Eight years ago, DH (Darling Hubby) brought home a six month…
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