It's morning and I barely slept.
All my critters decided to share the bed with me and they kept rooting me over the edge. It's a king-sized bed, for goodness sake. How come there's no room for me?
I wonder what will happen on my glamorous beat today? One day this week I was summoned to Bolivar to smell a dead cow. The lady insisted. A neighbor had dragged his dead cow right up to his fence next to the road and allowed it to rot there. It was horrid for everyone passing by, she said, and I don't doubt it.
That cow was clearly most sincerly dead.
Oh yeah, Oz again.
Turns out there is no law against allowing a dead animal to putrify on your own property. Who knew?