On this beautiful spring morning, birds are singing and flowers blooming, two of my girl's have been killed. Dear sweet Gladys and Georgia I have lost to a fox. I now realize what the phrase "sly as a fox" truly means, I have learned the hard way. I have recovered Georgia and buried her in the flower garden, but have yet to find Gladys. Winslow and I have walked the fields and woods and have found evidence of her demise.
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