This morning when I arrived at the Birch Street Nursing Home, I found Mrs. Lowe in the activity room staring out through the large windows. When she saw me, she told me she hadn't received a response to the letter I mailed to her son, but was sure he would be arriving to take her home any minute. She had her coat on, and her belongings were in her suitcase beside her. Later in the day, when I was nearly done with my chores, Mr. Pearlman's new seeing eye dog, Sniffles The Fifth, got loose, and I had to chase him all through the woods behind the Birch Street Cemetery. I finally caught him when his harness got tangled up in some low branches. When I got back to the Birch Street Nursing Home, I found that Mr. Pearlman had taken a tumble down the stairs. After I finished bandaging his head and was locking up for the evening, Mrs. Lowe was still seated by the window. "My son will be here any minute," she said as I left.
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