Thursday the Twenty-fifth
Dinky-Dunk has concluded that I’m too much alone; he’s been worrying over it. I can tell that. I try not to be moody, but sometimes I simply can’t help it. Yesterday afternoon he drove up to Casa Grande, proud as Punch, with a little black and white kitten in the crook of his arm. He’d covered twenty-eight miles of trail for that kitten! It’s to be my companion. But the kitten’s as lonesome as I am, and has been crying, and nearly driving me crazy.