Blasted Patrick

It's no secret around the back fence that Patrick is something of a loose cannon. Recently, while on a stroll through the backyard, the maladroit mistakenly pumped me full of lead, as Hammett might say, and sent me to hospital. I'm happy to say I've been through it all and the cracks and crevices seem to present no infection. A genuine Thank You to Dr. Andretti and his staff.

Patrick has always been a bit of a firework, and it would suit him lovely to receive some sort of federal treatment. The vigor with which he stamps out sidewalk bugs and worms indicates that he is the type who could benefit from therapeutic intervention. Perhaps I will take the matter up with Ray, who is in a position to persuade Patrick more readily.

I'm creaking and groaning about the house, walking a bit slowly and stiffly and cooking mainly hot broths for meals until my inner workings heal a skosh more. Téodor, ever-thoughtful, has taken it upon himself to provide me with daily entertainments, whether in the form of a rented comedy film (this afternoon I enjoyed the wonderful slapstick antics of Sleeper), an improving book or simply a variety of magazines. Life could be worse for a fellow, don't you know.