I was yakking on the phone last night with my sister when I glanced at my computer to see Whitney Houston had died. I don't really know why it hit me so hard but it did. I instantly felt so sad. Although no cause of death has been revealed yet, I'm not thinking at 48, Whitney died of natural causes but, hey.....it could have happened. More than likely, not, but damn...what a beautiful voice (past) and gorgeous woman, lost so soon.
Yesterday afternoon's dove hunting did not happen. A certain girl got a much needed bath and afterwards was snuggled up in one of the white chairs in here with her dad and I. Since she's usually a little damp even after blow drying her fur, I wrapped her up in a dry towel and then threw a fleece over her while I washed her bed fluffies. (And, yes, I once again put a fresh out of the dryer warm fluffy on her, and as per usual, she groaned.) The unreal part is, she didn't move for the rest of the afternoon--not even to go outside. She only got up around dinner time because she could smell the pork tenderloin we'd cooked. She's no dummy.