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For years Bob survived in his big black plastic pot. He always held his drink and he never complained. Then one day, he got sick. Actually, it was more like years of neglect. So we put him in bed, and he was revived. Sort of. Bob was changed. He set down roots and despite weathering some rough patches, he held on and held firm. Although it makes us sad, Louren and I always knew this day was coming: an amicable parting from Bob Plant, but a parting of the ways nonetheless.
So farewell, Bob Plant. You were always a faithful companion but your travelin' days are through.