Welp… Sammy’s gone. Mom said he couldn’t pee because his urinary tract was blocked. She took him in and did the deed. I know that most of you will blame me for this, for not interceding on Sammy’s behalf. It was not my place. Many of you will call bullshit - believe me when I say that I must sadly and respectfully disagree with you. I understand where your hearts are. There are bigger things that won’t verbalize or articulate well that are going on here. I offered to take the dog. I told mom I’d support and respect her decisions. She will answer to her husband now, and to her Maker. I will have no place in that either. I will take no pleasure when she comes to terms with them. For now I will be as kind and supportive as a good son can be. This is why I guard my heart. And my thoughts. My only obligations to that woman now are those imposed by my Maker.
We are getting down to the last leaves of autumn. I cleaned out the camper and removed the batteries for the winter. The skies are threatening November gloom with lots of grey. The snow will come soon. My poor Macey is struggling mightily these days. Her back legs are beginning to fail. Just walking is becoming a challenge. But she’s still happy and silly and barks at me and Mort and Wife. When her time comes - she will tell me. Her days are precious now.
The plans call for rubber bands, hatches and landing gear to be retained by rubber bands. I won’t have any of that; I nigger-rigged a precision bolt down for the wings. The gear is bolted in via captive nuts as well. Hatches will be latched or held shut with wood screws.