Dear Sis,
I write to say that deep down inside you reflect the good habits of a good person. Never mind that they don’t show, that you don’t let them show. I see them. Our sister seems them. Everyone sees them. Your altruism, your generosity, all that time you spend with the kids from the eastside Y teaching them how to cook fresh foods and taking them to the farmer’s market every Thursday. Everyone sees your goodness even though you don’t tell anyone about what you do. And that’s why you can get away with everything. Sweet people get away with things. Especially pretty ones like you.
When was the last time you sat back and took three deep breaths. I know you are patient enough to do that because you are patient enough to wait for a Prairie dog to stick his head out his mound. She’s just sick about you shooting those doggone Prairie dogs. You ought to be more discreet about it, like move your hunting stand away from the town and pick up your empty shells. Whatever she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
People who love you walk beside you. Wasn’t it Hazlitt who originated that? I’m trying to say that she loves you and lets you get away with the hunting. Think of that every time you do something dunderheaded like shoot those prairie town rats she takes the grandkids to watch.
You will have to slow down in your middle age. You still look foxy – the three of us do – but your tomboyish lifestyle is going to catch up with you. And I think you’ve shot enough Prairie dogs. And after shooting bobcats and antelope and all those exotics in Africa, what is it that you see in Prairie dogs?
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