Actually it was going all right, initially, until some of the sheep got loose a bit after lunch. Fly and I went out after them, of course. They got across the road before we caught up with them, but Fly went after them all right. She'd just gone back after a runaway when some idiot kid, driving his dad's new truck, comes barreling along at seventy miles an hour. Did he hit the bloody stupid sheep? Of course not. He hit my dog. To his credit (just) he did try to brake, and he kept braking even when he knew he'd hit her. Possibly he hadn't thought about the probability of being immediately decked by a screaming harpy. Hah. I left it to his dad. Fly was too messed up to survive--broken back the crowning touch. I took her to the vet's to make sure, and he put her down.
I am so tired.
I hate living alone.
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