Briter is a runaway! It’s happened before.

This weekend was rather nasty with all the screaming and the pulling-down-the-curtains rampage Briter went on when The B-Man and I told him in no uncertain terms he wasn’t going to Burning Man. We came home last night to find the place a mess–which, in truth, is not that uncommon when Briter’s left home alone–and a small peanut butter smeared note that said, “gon to bernig man briter.”

We don’t know what to do. We called the SPCA, but apparently they’re still blocking our number after Briter’s string of harassing phone calls he made to them last month.

He doesn’t have a real ticket, he’s got no money–or even pants to carry money in–no food and only those tiny little monkey feet to carry him across the desert.

We leave today and won’t be back until Monday. I hope we see Briter hitchhiking on the highway, otherwise, Godspeed, little traveler.

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