Most of today was spent watching over my aunt (Yimo). Today's dance was the pillow dance. She wants pillows inserted here. The remoeved. Then placed there. Then removed. Etc. Every 10 minutes. For hours on end. The morphine makes her sleepy, but it also makes it hard to breath. And rather then go with the sleepiness, she panics with the poor breathing, and so she fights to stay awake. But then that's how she lived the life, stubborn, and there's no reason to expect her to die in any different manner. . . . . . . . . . . The only thing I really got to do, is to play with the dogs. In a rural area like this, it's good to have a dog or two, but we have a whole pack here. Corey is the alpha male. The dog they brought over from Vegas. The dog that wouldn't stop running away. The dog that ran off and got got Mary pregnant. They found Mary in the field, apparently bursting at the seams with puppies. She's the bad bad dog of the pack. She keeps teaching the puppies all her bad habits. Chasing cars in the street (they roar by here at 70mph). Chasing the cows all around the pen. Jumping up onto people. Barking at prety much everything that moves. Running around all night long. She's going to ruin the puppies, if she hasn't already. Does make a good watchdog tho. Charlie is the bigger of the puppies. He jumps up too much. He also plays too much, and every now and then Corey has to take him down a peg. And it's not pleasant when he decides to do so when they're between my legs, as I try to move some mats the dogs sleep on. The runt of the litter, Shorty, is indeed smaller then Charlie. Because he was bottle fed, he's got a softer temperment, but like Charlie, he's picked up bad habits from Mary. When the FedEx truck left, both dogs chased the truck into the street. One of these days they're going to get themselves killed.