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Snips and snails and puppy dogs’ tails…
August 5, 2022

Hardly know where to begin! We heard the lightning that struck that park in DC yesterday evening that killed and injured four people. It was very fierce when we got home and rushed around getting the dogs out as fast as possible. Perhaps it is because I grew up surrounded with fierce violent thunderstorms, I am not the least bit scared of them.

Respectful, oh yes. Very respectful and keep my eye out for them. I was telling BabyBoy I the other day that the odd bird calls we were hearing were the calls of a Raincrow. That there would be thunder storms within forty-eight hours. Maximum. And there were, of course. After watching me now along with their father, the grandchildren are a lot less frightened and terrified of them. Little four year old KEnow is very calm as long as he is inside which is a huge step for him.

The Alexa Alerts scare our granddaughters to no end! So we are working on that. As for myself, just bonkers happy at the rain. It always lowers the temperature for a bit of time but the rain is important. Scarily important.

Let’s see: Covid hit BabyBoyI and his family hard. In spite of vaccinations and boosters. The childrens’ nanny took the two Negative children to her apartment and I was the only Negative adult in the house. Both KE and I had very recently been vaccinated (his first) and boosted. My third. One of the perks of being immune compromised I reckon.

At first, BabyBoyI insisted I move over to BabyBoyII’s house but I took one for the team, followed all protocols and so far…still negative.

A few days before Covid struck, BabyBoyI and the family adopted their third foster rescue dog: A full-blooded Black Lab teen, already in her third foster and third “forever” home. She was doing well, training well and minding us all but especially BboyI snd his brother. Now she has slipped back quite a bit and is a handful. Plus the two other dogs are having problems with this young hyper whipper-snapper.

KE whom has never tested anything but Negative including the expensive tests, has taken to climbing two flights of winding wooden stairs to
Knock on my door. He climbs into bed with the oldest dog of theirs’
and sleeps with me all night. He had snail shells in his sleep pants’s pockets and a million tiny Lego bits and pieces.

The soft sound of his deeply asleep breathing calms and delights my tired self, the silky red-gold hair so much like his father’s, the long, dark, curling eyelashes against the curved cheek, warms my tired and ice-locked heart.

He is so much like his father and uncle. Sometimes time slips sideways and I fly back to those years of the boys’ births and growing up years. KE will be playing on the big white kitchen’s honest 125 year old wood floors, singing little songs about the story line of his play and for a few moments, I am back in
the heart and body of that young girl with her baby boys in Texas.

It certainly is not Texas outside the windows or on
the lovely tree and flower lined streets of this neighbourhood and for that I am eternally grateful and almost deliriously happy it is not. Even if I don’t exactly fit the town as much as I once would have.

So as BabyBoyI and his wife and then JellyBean fell quite ill and had to
isolate ( complete isolation for a nine year is a while different challenge, I masked up, stayed off the second floor and fetched and toted and handled laundry and dishes and DOGS! Three of them!

Four flights of stairs, slow and sure. The cleaners could not come so s month passed with no professional cleaning and the nanny was in her home with the Negative children. Then ButterBean began having symptoms but still tests Negative. The dogs, greatly missing their master, began acting out. Why couldn’t they go in the big bedroom? They could hear him coughing too. What happened to our long walks? Play time? Lessons? The second adopted dog is very strong and would be a great hunting dog but needs lots of energy-using work to make her happy. So I worked out a program of fetch and frisbee training. The way my father and grandfathers and relatives trained their dogs is vastly different than the ways they do with foster dogs. One late night when BabyBoyI used outside stairs to get some time on the second floor verandah, he spoke into the darkness, “She’s going to be your dog if I don’t get well soon!”

Not really possible. My recovery from pneumonia has been terribly and painfully slow, my hearing loss hard to adjust to plus this hot weather wears me out if I leave the house for too long or during the hottest parts of the days.

Still, to walk into this house, with its eco-energy saving high efficiency whatever it is, where the temperature never goes above 70 perfect degrees with the correct amount of humidity for maximum health and skin’s needs…oh my stars! Right now after taking three rowdy dogs out in the heat and humidity, here we sit in the library, at a perfect 70 degrees and lush green trees and flowers visible through all the big triple glazed windows!


 
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