What is wrong with me? Why can't I just drive by the dang dog who has been hanging out at the Flying J Truck Stop on our way to school? I wish I'd never seen him lying pitifully under the guardrail for three days now. Pooh Bear placed a tub of dogfood in a plastic container in the van, and I had Tater feed him before picking Peace up from school while I filled up my gas tank. I'll do a dangerous thing here and name him Spot. Claire, who lives at the exit, asked me to check on him once, and now I'm sucked into the poor doggy vortex. Pray that Spot finds a loving home before I lose my mind completely and bring him here.