I am not worrying too too much about Laurel though I spent two walks calling him and banging bowl on the street and shaking treats. I should pray for his early soon safe return but I am tired of stressing out about him every morning.

May he come back soon, lord Buddha. Om muni muni mahamuni svoha

Nawang Khechog is whispering his lyrics and prayers and confidences. Flute is playing.

Coffee is being made. I am drained by worrying about Laurel every morning this week: it is too bloody cold to let them outside but hubby insists with anger. He says I enjoy 'torturing them ' since I dont like them out, and I enjoy their 'screams and yells and unhappiness'. Isn'T that fucking awful of him to say that? I cant believe my ears.What wolrd of cruelty and hatred does he live in?

UPDATE

Laurel came in at 9H25am. He ate ravenously. No more outside time now. It is way too fricking cold.