A Consistent Bitch

Meet Lacey.

She is a seven-year old mixed breed mutt I found along the side of the road in some small and somewhat cramped town in the middle of Tennessee.

I think they called it Tellahoma?

I’d went for a junket (apparently I appeal to a certain demographic well-represented in the throes of the rolling hills, corn and soy fields, tiny private Catholic or at least Christian schools) and there she was.

I was looking for something to do. It was a Wednesday. I was scheduled for an alumni gathering the following weekend. Sidney, the President of the University, had asked me to speak for several minutes and I’d obliged.



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