Jan 08, 2006 11:54
Saturday had been a good day for him. He hadn't managed to get to the book shop, which was good. He didn't want to see Aziraphale yet. Soon. But not yet.
By noon Sunday morning, he was in the clinic, playing The Beatles instead of Johnny Cash. Cash the puppy was asleep under the desk. The doors were open, coffee brewed in the pot.
The doctor is in. And in a fairly decent mood.
open clinic,
justin quayle,
gregory house,
death,
cash