Pancho needs yr prayers its true...but save a few for Lefty too

Old cowboys never die they just ride on. Drifters just drift away. Gypsies just travel on.Bw
Strangely enough I realized this sittin' in the Belcourt tonight, eating a box of Milk Duds and drinking a PBR, watchingBe Here to Love Me a movie about Townes Van Zandt a stunning songwriter. He talked about how sad all his songs were, "Not all my songs are sad, some of them are hopeless." I wish I could say that I understood what happened in my head-I haven't stopped feeling sad-but I understand something I'm not sure I did before-Baxter, he'll always be here to love me today
God, that man wasn't of this world-he wrote lyrics like I can't even imagine a human being able to channel, he said things I can barely imagine anyone saying. He's been dead a decade but he talked to me today-like Hank Williams still speaks or Harry Chapin or any number of gone poets of varying degrees of ethereal power. So-I realized-that my Bax-he's ok I'm not totally ok with it but I think for some reason that I realize now that he's ok. I'll probably feel different tomorrow and then different from that on Thursday. It's a constant process...
Talked to Daddy today-he called me when I'd gotten home from the theatre. I'd started to call earlier-but I live in Nashville and it was snowing. I can drive in the snow-but most of the people in this town can't. Crazy Southerners.
"Are you getting over some of your Baxter grief?"
"Well, sometimes Daddy...then sometimes I think that I didn't do enough or I did things wrong."
"That dog was a cowboy, a drifter," ("He's a poet, he's a picker, he's a prophet and a preacher and a problem when he's stoned. He's a walking contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction taking every wrong direction on his lonely way back home.") "his life expectancy was about 5 minutes. Animal control would've found him and he would've been a goner, cuz he was an asshole, but he died of old age that's a miracle."
"Yeh, Daddy, he was an asshole, but he was my asshole."
"Hey, other than you I was that dog's best friend. I know what you mean. He was an ass but so was Henry that's just the kind of dogs they were."
"You remember when you were in Atlanta and you came to visit? I told Baxter you were coming to see him and he stared out that window waiting for you."
"We were buds."
"You know Pop, I don't know if I can forgive myself for not being the one with him when he died."
"Kid, you didn't need to go through that. He was home, and he was glad to be home and you didn't need to put yourself through that."
"Y'know, I would've run up my credit cards, sold stuff, whatever I could've done to keep him alive."
"And that bastard wouldn't have been happy. As long as he could he tried to run away, sometimes I had to carry him up the stairs because he couldn't walk back, that wasn't Baxter. You could've spent a thousand dollars and only added a week to his life."
"But I woulda done it, maybe it's better, maybe it's what B wanted, but it was best that he was home."
"And he will always be home. Even if we move, this is where you grew up, it's home."
My Daddy is a Big Old Bear----and he's a Big Old Softy---'specially when it comes to difficult old hounds....
"Y'know Da the thing is, I keep looking at these dogs...and I really want a cairn terrier-like the kind that Eugene Levy and Catherine O'Hara had in Best in Show---you remember?"
"Yes, I remember every joke and humorous scene in Best in Show," said Dad.
"I do."
"I'm sure you do," he said.
"Well, I want a terrier like that---but I keep seeing these two kinds of dogs-and I know you have the same disorder-I keep seeing these black and white pit bull Australian Shepherd Henry looking beasts or these black pointy eared a couple years away from "Got Milk?" faces Baxter dopplegangers and I just want to take any dog that looks like that home."
"You'll have that," he said.