Halfway House -- First Casualty

I've always heard that halfway houses have a very low success rate. You just never want to think it will happen to one of yours.

But it appears that it has. And I don't know if there's any going back after this.

This morning I get up and pour myself a bowl of cereal. When I add the milk, though, I'm met with an unpleasant surprise. I sniff the milk, not wanting to believe what my eyes are telling me. Then I check the label, and sure enough is says the expiration date is March 2, a full seven days away. Then what on earth is that putrid stench wafting its way up to my nostrils? And then it hits me.

Gimpy curdled our milk.

Oh boy, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. But it is clear that poor Gimpy simply isn't adjusting to life in civilized society. The pull of his old ways seems to be too much for him to handle. I'm trying not to take it too personally, telling myself that there's always one that doesn't work out, one that you just have to let go of.

But it's hard. I mean, was there something I could have done differently? Could I have been there for him? Could I have saved him?

I just have to accept that you can't save them all.