Sunday, October 12, 2014


My mother was not able to take care of herself. My father was dead. They had a dog.

The dog needed somewhere to go.

The neighbours had previously promised to take Sandy if anything happened to Mum and Dad, but when all the shit came down, they couldn't do it after all.

These pictures capture me and Sandy at the exact moment I decided that Sandy was coming home with me.

I'm allergic to dogs.

At least, I was.

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