Diane was coming to the realization that it could always be worse. This week was a testament to that. Murphy's law was in full gear and she lamented she wasn't even Irish.
"You'd think I'd catch a break," she muttered to herself.
It all started on Friday morning when her beloved dog, Miss Woodhouse, named for her favorite Jane Austin character, came down with a mysterious illness and by Saturday she had gone to doggie heaven leaving Diane so lonely she could cry. Cry she did, in torrents.
That little cocker spaniel had been her constant companion, her best friend and possibly her only true friend since leaving home to strike out on her own in this big, unkind, unfriendly city. She was so depressed she even considered going back home to the suburbs. Now that was depressed!