People and animals were gathered in front of the newspaper office a block away from the hotel where we had our supper. The vet was in town giving pets their shots, and there was a pretty good turnout.

Halfway down the block we met Lucille in her wheelchair, holding two newly shorn dogs by their leashes, and her husband, Buck, walking beside her. Loverboy pulled over to the side of the street to chat with them.

“You get to work!” he called out to Buck, who yelled back “No YOU get to work!”

This is the typical banter between them when they meet. Buck is a farmer’s son who had a machinery accident as a young man and suffered brain injury, evidenced by some speech impediments and a reduction in cognitive functioning. He had to come live and work in town here, where there are both homes and employment for the mentally and physically impaired.

There he met and married Lucille, whom I met for the first time last night although I have seen her around town. Her physical handicaps are severe — it looks like she has no torso to speak of except for a sizable chest — and both of them have some difficulty with speech, as I found them hard to understand.

They have managed to purchase their own home and make a noticeable success of their independence from the group-living situation they started out with, and before the conversation was over they asked Loverboy if he’d have a look at a van they are thinking of buying. They aren’t sure if the asking price, with trade-in of the vehicle they own now, is fair.

So today we’re going to town so he can check out the vehicle and tell them what he thinks.

And I’m going to buy my sweetie a late lunch at the drive-thru, where buffalo burgers are all the rage. Then I’m off to my home town to see my granny.