"I probably was pretty depressed. I couldn't leave the house. I tried to get his pension, but they said without a body I could not prove his death.
My dog, Dirty Hairy, just moped around, and so did I. Our friends were the bunnies, and only the bunnies. And each other, of course.
We learned to live on almost nothing. In time, our utilities were turned off. In the winter we burned the branches that had fallen in the nearby forest. In the summer we sweated out the hot days and enjoyed any breeze we could find in the evenings.
We took care of the bunnies. They kept reproducing, thanks to Dirty Hairy shedding hair. It wasn't a bad life, but I missed Softy, and I missed having a man around.
Then Augusta came, first under assignment to get rid of the bunnies. That evolved into a love affair and a business partnership. We commercialized the sanctuary and made enough money to get the utilities on and to pay the back taxes. Life was good.
Augusta got word that Softy was still alive, which is why we are here . . . looking for him. He heard that he was still selling pillows, and was in the next town. Augusta wanted to flatten the guy, and I wanted to embrace him.
And that's my story."
