Matt and I left PG on Friday morning, did a bit of whitewater rafting and planned to come back, pick up our bags, and head out. When I stepped onto the porch Rob and David were looking like someone had died.
My first thought: “Oh no! Sam!”
Rob told me I had better go talk to Jen. I didn’t even need to. I walked inside and saw the packing boxes piled on the living room floor. Sold. The deal should be sealed by now, I haven’t heard back since Monday morning. Roy, the absentee owner of the animal rescue (and, technically, all the animals that had been brought there) was supposed to get his money then, Monday morning, bright and early.
Supposedly the same couple came back with more money and this time Roy couldn’t resist. Yeah, I know, it is his to sell. They are his to sell. He really needed the money, said Rob. He was crying when he told us, said Rob. The day before Rob told me how Roy offered him a job. And offered to pay him to drive a new Lexus SUV down from the States. But that was on Thursday. On Friday Roy was poor again and had to sell the only animal rescue in Panama to turn it into a spa.
Rob was sympathetic. “Roy was upset, you ever seen a big man like that cry?”
What, does a big man crying need more sympathy than a little girl crying? So I can cry all I want and nothing. “Don’t worry, that crying sound you hear is just a little girl, she is just little-girl-crying, no need to concern yourself!”
“He even had his own house on the market, he had it at 200K below its value so that he could keep this place.” Said Rob.
Well, despite all of Rob’s sympathy for Roy, I don’t have much. Why does he think he’s in such a desperate place as he has to sell PG (and cry about it) if he is buying a Lexus and has a house worth more than 200k. Whatever, Roy. Look around Panama. Look around! Are you really that poor? Are you really desperate? Do you really need to put all these animals out of a home, just for the money? Whatever, Roy.
I’m so sorry Jessie. Love Dad