Mysterious Ways

An Unexpected Visitor


I couldn’t even sort through the first box of our dog Bama’s toys without bursting into tears. My husband, Alan, found me sitting on the floor in our utility room, clutching our late boxer’s favorite squeaky. He gently pulled me to my feet. “It’s okay, Lisa,” he said.

“I’m sorry….”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll put these away. Why don’t you go outside and get some air?”

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