September 24, 2003
Buddy just came in with a big cholla (pronounced Choy-ya) thorn stuck in the end of his nose. He is a stray from Manhattan. No joke. He was found running in the mean streets of the Big Apple, and now he runs along the dusty streets of Cave Creek and the colored girls go, “Do, do, do, da, doo, dooto, doota, hey doggy, take a walk on the cholla side.”

Deena is supposed to come out tonight to visit him. I probably won’t be awake (see next paragraph).

Woke up at 1:30 this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep. Started thinking about Lance Armstrong. I read an interview with him in Time before I went to sleep where he said champions make it hurt every day. I thought, Hey, I can make it hurt, so I got up at 3:30 and started painting the hanging out pieces for Classic Gunfights. Worked until around seven, walked the dogs up the hill and back, made breakfast for Kathy (Canadian bacon and eggs), then went into work. Came home at 10:30 and finished artwork by 2:15. Took it all in, had Gus go up to Foothills Photo and drop it off to be developed.

Went into Executive Session at 2:30. Decided the fate of many people, went back to my office and finished laying out Classic Gunfights, went up at 5:15 and got finished film. Talked to Robert Ray about “consistency” regarding the new book. He’s concerned. I’m thankful he’s concerned. We’ll pow wow in the morning.

Came home at 5:30. Kathy wants me to join her at yoga. Don’t want to go, but I want to be a good partner. She loves this stuff (being healthy, what a concept!). May go up to humor her, but I hate that Dog Boy Down thing. What is it called, Emma? Dawn of the Dog? Dog Dawning On A Dogpile? Something.

“Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.”
—Old Vaquero Saying