Goose o' Clock
We almost missed goose-o'-clock this evening. For the first time in months, my old dog Sylvie and my old but perpetual teenage Yorkie, L’il Chef, went on our "good walk," that being up into the deer woods (really a petting zoo!), up the tall service road, behind the big church on that vast green plane, up through the hawk trees, then down again to the lake. Gold sun-gleams briefly blinded L’il Chef’s view from the golden retriever prancing on the other side. He seemed confused and cheated as we passed, coughing up fierce barks so as to sleep with honor. The honks arrived behind us, a fierce brigade once again headed towards the red roost inn.
Sylvie is 13, and suffers from a rare immune condition that causes her nails to become distorted and painful. She is so much better now, beautiful yellow girl with the watery eyes and smooth paws. My heart walked with her and stopped with gratitude every time she buried her nose in some heinous new patch of delicious perfume.
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My partner is watching PBS news right now. I am trying to keep my head clear. It is not easy. No, the fuzz of protection around my body is growing a buzz now, low and throbbing. We saw an owl erupt in a dark plot in our little woods tonight. She was glorious.
Section. 4.
The President, Vice President and all civil Officers of the United States, shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Conviction of, Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors.



An owl. A goose. An unmentionable. Beautiful Lizzie.