Camping without Bandit the Wily Wheaten
I miss ya girl. U rolling through Canon City with your head out the window, looking so cool--you awesome puppy, even at 11 years of age.
We got in each others' way at times, yet u r still the coolest dog, like Tobias and his pup with Arch-Angel Raphael hanging around.
I'm trying to keep everything clean Bandit. Using baby wipes to clean the dash and washing windows every morning.
Still haven't managed to see a Dodger game this year, but hoping next time I have a beer there's some kind of baseball on.
Went to the park and walked--it wasn't the same not having to scoop ur poop.
So, I miss ya pal. Ur the best Bandit, everybody adored u.
Stupid huh, writing about ur dog? I don't mind. Never had many friends but Mom, Grandma, Pap, and my Dad. They're mostly all gone now. So I talk to Jesus plenty, and it's allowed under law. He was meek and kind, and for some reason the world didn't really like Him, but everyone wanted a piece of Him. There were none braver in my opinion. Just a simple tradesman that knew Scripture and hung out with his Mother and fishermen.
Anyway Bandit--here's the wacky song I wrote about ya:
The wily Wheaten don't know defeat'n--
The wily Wheaten gives joyous greeting.
I'll always have your silly dog face in my heart. Ur always with me girl--and so is Mom.
