Busy Week

 

I've had an odd week that could have been overwhelming. However, if I break it down into smaller compartments I can deal with it all. I'm babysitting my sister's dog. Two of my sisters are in the hospital. I got a new housekeeper. I lost Dennis.

First off, the dogs. My older sister had surgery this week so I took her dog in while she recuperates. Nothing funnier than watching me walk three barking, snarling dogs down our street. Snarling because the two smallest dogs seem to think that every approaching human is a threat, and every cat or squirrel needs to be chased. Scout, the big girl of the group, has been an angel about the whole deal. By the way, finding tiny small dog turds among the fallen leaves of autumn is quite a challenge.

The housekeeper. As for her cleaning abilities, she's great. Very diligent, which can be a drawback since she spent four hours cleaning my bathroom and kitchen. I had to stop her at four hours because I am paying her by the hour. But that bathroom is spotless and the kitchen shines. I'll have her start in the living room next time she's scheduled.

Dennis. No, he's not dead. Literally, I lost him. On Tuesday I dropped him off at his doctor's office for an appointment. Around three in the afternoon I texted him, "Do you need me to pick you up?" Crickets, no answer. At five I tried calling him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. Then for the next three hours I kept calling every half hour or so, and every time straight to voicemail. I was getting worried about him. No doctor's office is still seeing patients at eight in the evening. After checking the bushes in front of the house to see if maybe he fell into them while coming up the stairs, I decided to call the hospital emergency room by his doctor's office. "Oh yes, Dennis is here in the waiting room. He's been here for four hours." So relief and panic all rolled into one. HIPAA rules and his phone taking me straight to voicemail meant that I had no idea why he was there. Which is where he stayed for over thirty hours. Finally the next evening, the dogs started going batshit and I looked out the window. Two men were helping Dennis up the porch stairs. A taxi driver and a stranger who helped pick Dennis up after he fell getting out of the taxi.

So, Dennis is fine, the dogs are fine, and I surely hope my two sisters are/will be fine. Meanwhile the two smallest dogs have staked out their sleeping positions on my bed, inches from my face.