Jesus Hannibal Christ. (Hey, the “H” has to stand for something, right?) The past two weeks have been a sleep-deprived, stress-induced blur…all of the sudden summer is dead and we’ve moved into MY FAVORITE SEASON.
Conveniently, this happened just when Husband is awake, out of the ICU, on the (cranky) mend, and able to coordinate his visitor schedule so he has more company. WOOHOO! While I miss him TERRIBLY when I’m not there, this does allow me at least time to go for a walk to smell the leaves change. Which allows Chewy to shuffle through dried leaves…which results in crushed leaves in his coat, on my floor, etc etc.
Speaking of Chewy, last night I left the door open to the guest room, because I’m a nice dog-mom and I know he prefers to sleep on the guest bed than on the floor. I was rewarded with dog puke on the comforter. Sigh. Apparently my delay last night providing dinner was a mistake, but still: really dude?
One of Husband’s nurses told me this weekend that people bring their dogs in to visit all the time.
Imagine for a moment a 150lb white furball SKATING ACROSS THE SLIPPERY HOSPITAL FLOORS.
Now add the long, thick ropes of drool hanging out of both sides of his mouth. I mean long enough to leave a trail behind him.
Now add a fluffy tail curled up over his back and wagging madly as he tries to drag me through the lobby.
I can just see the poor security guard trying to wipe slime off his pants while Chewy bowls him over in his insistent I-will-sit-on-your-feet-and-lean-so-you-pet-me-NOW sorta way.
Does this sounds like a good idea in a very small room with an IV stand just WAITING to be knocked over?
Yeah. I don’t think so either.