Just keep swimming.
The transition back to school has been pretty smooth for both Summer and me. I’m so fortunate to have retired neighbors across the street who come over at lunchtime to let her out to play for a bit. When I get home it’s a happy dance reunion and off we go for a long walk. In the evening it’s clear that she missed me all day because this is pretty much what it looks like around here every night:
We did have a wee bit of excitement one morning when I was enjoying a cup of green tea. Summer was at my feet where she always is and I got up to look for the ever elusive remote. When I turned back around two blinks later she was happily licking her chops after devouring my entire tea bag in one gulp. My squeal of horror sent her running for cover:
The last thing this dog needs is caffeine, no matter how small the amount. After a call to the vet and being assured that she would be fine, I placated myself by knowing that she just got a heaping helping of antioxidants.
That evening, a neighbor asked if I could look after their beta fish, Jewel, for the week while they went on vacation. I didn’t tell her of the morning tea bag incident, but I did tell her that I really don’t have a great track record with fish. I didn’t tell her about the time when I was 8 and my next door neighbor and best friend entrusted her guppies to me. And how I had no idea that a thermostat light in a fish tank wasn’t supposed to stay lit the whole time. And how I kept turning that knob until the light would stay on. And how I woke up the next morning to a tank full of boiled guppies. Nope. I just stood there with a look of panic hoping to convey that maybe I wasn’t the best caretaker for Jewel. But they were leaving in a matter of hours, so I reluctantly agreed.
The next week consisted mainly of: wake up, check on Jewel. Take Summer out, check on Jewel. Feed Summer, check on Jewel. Go to work, come home, check on Jewel. And on it went. I talked to her, cajoled her, pleaded with her to just keep swimming…
And she did.
I was so happy to see them come home. As she sloshed around in her bowl as I carefully walked her home, that sappy Barry Manilow song started playing in my head: Looks like we made it..
That night I celebrated with pizza. Not the delicious take-out kind that’s dripping in gluten, but this.
It’s been a month of change and minor adventures, but I’m still swimming.