Wywy ventured out of his closet voluntarily this morning, nibbled just a bit, wandered around the house, and retreated. I got him out periodically to love him and offer him food, and several times he sat on my desk for a while. Tonight when I came home from dinner, he was waiting at the door and yowled to be fed, but didn't eat much. I'll feel better when he's eating again.
Scooby, who sometimes lounges in the house until 8 p.m., nicely went out at 5:15. I fed him and left for a 5:30 dinner meeting. Just got inside the restaurants when the heavens let loose--hardest rain I've seen all summer, and it kept up for almost an hour. Got home in time to bring a grateful dog inside, but now it's thundering and lightning again. Scooby's food was scattered all over the back steps--a soggy feast for the possums but I don't suppose they're fussy.
Spent the whole day working at my desk and felt good about it. Moving my Texas food book right along. Other than that, the world is in its place, I'm a happy camper, and I have nothing profound to say. Oh, except I snagged my right sideview mirror on the garage wall this evening and killed it. In my own defense, it's a narrow 1920s garage, and I've driven in and out of it for 17 years without a problem. As the new director of the press said at dinner, "It's Murphy's Law. Bound to happen."