What? Not much other than Frida mending beautifully. Three weeks since! Each day another hint of her illness falls away.
Tried to gear her up. Socks, shoes and coat. The misery! She wouldn’t even look at me. We made it to the end of the drive… where she stopped. Didn’t want to go toward the pond. Didn’t want to go toward the city. Didn’t want to come back inside. If she could have willed it, she may have dropped herself dead on the spot (rather than take another step without feeling the ground). Poor, poor dear! We’ll try again this afternoon without her boots. Just around the block if her feet can stand it.
So. I’ll get to my day and let you to yours. Be well!