The Last Three Weeks

Our family Christmas proved to be a super-spreader event. Mom and Dad set out to North Carolina to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversary on the same morning that Brett woke up with a head cold. Mom's throat was sore but that's easy to overlook when headed towards adventure. Jordan felt dizzy. David felt crappy. I took on a sympathy headache. Surely it's not...Covid. Once safely checked into their hotel room and guts filled with a big meal, Mom and Dad took a health-based nosedive. Itchy sore throats, watery eyes, hacking cough. That's it, we're going home. They got in the car the next morning, drove back to Charleston, passed their Covid tests with flying colors, and then locked their front door never to come out again...for 10 days. 

When hearing they were positive, Brett got tested and he also passed. Ellen began to panic. Her childcare services would be unavailable until further notice. Jordan tested positive. I went out in search of at-home covid tests but the city was sold out. Appointments for tests were booked up for two weeks. We later named me an honorary Covid patient as my wherewithal withered away and my head went stuffy. Margie followed Jordan down the swirling vortex as we all cancelled our New Years Eve plans.

Mostly it was mild for everyone. It's possible that Ellen did the bulk of the complaining during that time due to being inconvenienced. In addition to free childcare, she also receives Meals on Wheels services twice each week from Papa Union's kitchen. She would call all of us each day, and if we ever felt worse and not better she would tell us how unbearable it was to be so bored and she can't take us being sick much longer. Meanwhile we all quarantined, ate sad pantry-based meals (though Ellen did drop off groceries on occasion), battled cabin-fever, and watched a lot of tv. We're all mostly better now.

During that time, Brett accidentally left one of our gates open and our dogs escaped. This is always troubling, but especially so when you live on a busy road near a big curve. Brett and I arrived home from a bike ride and noticed the dogs did not greet us as usual. Seeing the open gate made our stomachs drop. We ditched the bikes and jumped in the car. I looked as far down the road as I could see, looking for any large blobs laying the road. That I never saw one is what kept me calm. We knew two things for sure. Grace would try to bite anyone who tried to help her - which means she will not be "found" by any well-meaing people, so we would not be receiving a call about Grace. Pippa would likely warm up to a kind stranger urging her out of the road but she would be very distressed about being "kidnapped" and likely make a run for it again - thus we may receive a call about Pippa, but her whereabouts could be fleeting. 

We drove around in the neighborhoods where we walk them while Dad drove around in Ellen's neighboring neighborhood. No luck. Who knew how long they had been out and how far they had gotten in the time. We headed back home and there in the distance, nearly army crawling down the sidewalk, was a nervous, mud-covered Pippa. We sped towards her hoping to catch her before she ran into the road. I rolled down the window and called her but with all the surrounding road noise, she took in no ounce of my soothing tones. We pulled up next to her and she ignored our roaring engine. "Pippa!" I shouted, but still, she crawled on. I opened the door and jumped out of the car and it scared her. She looked at me with terror in her giant puppy eyes. I saw the relief wash over her furry face when she recognized me. She leapt and licked and catapulted her up-and-down tail. I clipped on a leash and then she dragged me straight home. Brett drove on while I put Pip back in the yard. I was wrong about the mud. Pippa was filthy. Her face, her neck, her back. But she also stunk. Upon further inspection, I realized Pip had rubbed and wallowed in a decaying animal carcass. 

I locked her up and set out on foot for Grace. I got as far as the neighbor's house when David stepped off his porch to say hello. "Well hey there! Whatcha doin'?"
"I'm looking for Grace actually. She's gotten loose," I told David, our friendly neighborhood truck driver. We chitchatted a little and then David interrupted me.
"Well there she is," he pointed behind me, "Isn't that her?"

Down the street on the other side of the road, Grace stood watching us from the distance. 

"Grace, what are you doing?" I shouted, "Come here!"

She mulled it over quietly. I began jogging towards her. There were no cars coming so it was a great time for her to run across the road. Grace continued to contemplate my instructions as I closed the gap between us. She waited to hear oncoming traffic to begin her promenade across the street. 

"No. No no. Stay!" I yelled, but she danced an elegant waltz into the road. I waved my arms to flag down the drivers. David stepped into the road to stop cars. Grace chose to cross the street at an extreme diagonal, increasing the amount of time she would spend in the road. 

"Grace, come here!" I yelled, embarrassed. Traffic had stopped. Pleased to finally have an audience, Grace slowly sauntered and tiptoed past the cars and ended her performance with a playful puppy leap as she made it to the sidewalk. The people in the cars laughed but I didn't find it funny until later.

Unlike Pippa, she was sparkling clean, so after I pulled chunks of dead animal off of Pip and gave her bath, both girls sacked out for the rest of the day.

Also in the last three weeks, Brett and I seriously considered purchasing this jaw-dropping beauty of a house...

 

...and Ellen had an early labor scare. 

We're all kind of exhausted lately.