Fayner Posts: Yesterday I was real drunk…bloody mary’s for breakfast, beer for lunch and mudslides on the beach. And as some may know I’m not that keen on alcohol. I do other things instead.

So we’re eating at The Atlantic Cafe out here in Nantucket, raw bar (not "row bar" as TR wrote the other day) with Dante at the helm tearing them oysters apart like a super pro. I was enjoying myself, drunk and dumb when my phone rings. It’s my buddy Tim who is watching Rhiannon while I am away.

"Dude," he said, "let me finish before you freak out, okay?"

"How bad is she?"

"I didn’t even tell you anything yet."

"Listen, my dog is a dumbass. She did something stupid and got hurt. How bad?"

"She jumped off an eight foot wall and fucked her leg up. She was yelping and crying. It sucked."

"Where did it happen?"

"We had just showed up to a party, and Rhi was making her rounds meeting the other dogs and letting them know she was in charge when it happened."

"Sorry you had to miss the party."

"I was already thinking of excuses to leave when it happened so she made it easy for us to get the fuck out of there. She’ll be out of commision for a bit with a full leg sprain."

"What’s the damage?"

"Money wise? You don’t want to know."


Rhiannon is resting and wishes to thank everyone for their love and support.

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