<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Fetch on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/fetch/</link><description>Recent content in Fetch on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Mon, 23 Jun 2014 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/fetch/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>No Place for Pets 2: Becoming Her Owner</title><link>/stories/2014/06/23/no-place-for-pets-2-becoming-her-owner/</link><pubDate>Mon, 23 Jun 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/06/23/no-place-for-pets-2-becoming-her-owner/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="noplaceforpets.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;No Place for Pets&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 2: Becoming Her Owner&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The sounds of sizzling back bacon filled the still morning air. It was early the sun having barely been up for more than an hour. Jim enjoyed this peaceful time, when the old farmhouse was still and quiet. He had always been an early riser. For as long as he could remember he had been getting up to go for an early morning run. Country life had quickly grown on him. Unlike the hustle and bustle of the city, he could go outside and breathe nothing but pure clean air. It was a welcome improvement over the smelly fumes and honking of cars. Come to think of it he could not remember the last time he saw a car on his morning run, which wasn&amp;rsquo;t surprising when their closest neighbour was 15 kilometres away.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>