Shelby and Kirby came over this afternoon for their final prep hour with the dogs. They came into the farmhouse, fed the three dogs, made Fate and Gus sit and stay for their food, fed the barn cats, checked on the chickens, checked the water bucket by the side of the barn, exercised the dogs in the side pasture, threw balls and toys for them.

The dogs are besides themselves when they see Shelby and Kirby, although Gus goes off to look for me if he doesn’t see me. I think Red is the only one who will notice that I am gone. Afterwards we talked and laugh for a bit. Shelby is a fine photographer, she showed me some of her Iphone photos, Kirby is a sales manager at a classy Manchester clothing outlet.

They are self-described “good people,” snobs, I think, when I told them we should all have dinner at the Bog, they seemed to pale a bit. We’ll get them there.

They are both genuine dog lovers and Gus, needing no invitation, jumped up into Kirby’s arms, crawled up his chest, showered him with kisses. Gus will be fine when we are gone, and so will Fate, as long as she gets to run around with sheep.

On Sunday, we are outta here.