There was a peculiar convergence at the farm this morning. Bud, Chip and my angel.

Bud saw Chip pop his head out of the stone wall and went charging over to watch for him. It wasn’t until then that I noticed that my angel was sitting right in Chip’s front door,

Bud looked at her in some bewilderment, and then looked to me for guidance.

I had none to offer. I wouldn’t mess with her, I said.

What are you doing here?, I asked.

Oh, just hanging out, she said. “This seems to be a hot spot on the farm, I’m getting to know Chip. He says life really started to crackle when you got Bud.”

Glad you’re enjoying it, I said. I told her I think I picked up the flu that was spreading all around the Mansion. I think I needed to get to bed. I told her I started writing my book proposal – When Good Dogs Die – but I had to stop, I felt a fever coming, and I was no longer thinking too clearly if I ever did.

Go to bed, she said.

I can’t, I said, Art the stove guy is coming to clean out our two wood stoves and Maria has her lunch with the Good Witches. I’ll go to bed later after Art is done.

Then I paused, “Hey, if you’re a powerful witch, maybe you can make this flu go away.”

“Dream on,” she said, “I’m not God.”