The (additional) Great Escape

These days I look like death and feel about as great. This winter has been a tough one health wise for me. I got a nasty cold during Christmas which resulted in me losing my voice. About a week after that I got another head cold. This past Saturday I was finally starting to feel better with the sensation of appreciably less snot inhabiting my sinuses when I woke Sunday morning with a tickly cough.

By Sunday night it was clear something was up and I was actually a little freaked out about how quickly I declined. By evening my lungs felt sharp pain in them, likely from the coughing. The next day I went to the doctor and while I hoped to feel validated for my whinyness by hearing that "Yes, Miss Scott, you do indeed have the Black Plague" I only have a chest cold. I was told that it can stick around for 21 days though.

21 Days?! Who has time for that crap?  I sure don't. Parents in general have been on my mind a lot lately. How the hell do they keep their kids alive when they feel this miserable? I can barely take care of my dog these days let alone do my job.

Case in point; poor Harlow has been very confused since I've been home sick for three days now and I'm am simply no fun to be around at all. She's been rambunctious and whiny, fidgety and restless. Poor girl. Why is Mom here but no fun at all?! If I am laying down in bed in my dark bedroom, she's quiet as a mouse, but anywhere else and she can't stand to sit still.

Today she took matters of boredom into her own hands when she disappeared from the yard. When I tell you this seemed like a miraculous feat, you'll have to take my worked for it. I let her out this afternoon, and after about a half hour when she hadn't returned, I wondered what was up. I went out into the yard and sure enough, no dog. I checked the house in case in my delusional state she'd been inside the entire time. Nope. No pup.

I didn't panic. In fact, my reaction was sort of, um, oh well, I guess she'll come back when she comes back? Which isn't at all the right attitude I realize, but it is true, really. Usually. I mean, they do just come back on their own generally right?

Keep in mind I'm not running on all cylinders these days with head congestion, chest paint, a sinused of brick and water in my ears.

Try not to judge me too harshly.

Anyway, I went to the car and got her Most Obnoxious Squeaky Toy In The Whole World because of course it's her favorite. I gave it a squeeze and she came bounding out from behind the neighbor's back yard, crossing the street right in front of a car which was thankfully moving at a slow pace and spotted her on top of that, slowing to a glacial pace. Harlow got about five yards from me when she realized she wasn't actually interesting in being a good dog and coming to me when I called, so she turned her back to me and crossed the street again, heading down Gaston Street.

I started to walk towards her, calling her cheerily in my forced cracked sickly voice. She wasn't buying it and picked up the pace to a trot. I got in my car and called my dad. I was slowly creeping around the neighborhood with the window down, squeaking out her name, when some neighbors waved me down "Are you looking for a dog?"

Does she seem like a mischievous asshole? Then yes!

Judging from the state of her snout, she found something delicious in her travels

I brought the punk home and made her stay inside for a bit. I let her out again with intention of watching her through the windows to see how she's getting out of the yard (she's smart enough to know not to do it while I'm watching her). As she moved around in the yard, I had to move within the house from window to window. I thought for sure she was jumping on top of the carport again, but as I looked out the window with a view of the carport, I could have sworn I saw a plume of white fur flutter by below the window. I ran outside and sure enough she was gone. Minutes later I got a call, "Are you looking for Harlow?"

The mail carrier held onto her until I could retrieve her about a block away. I brought her to the yard again and watched her carefully. That's when I figured out where she was getting out, because she kept eyeing me as she wandered over to the tiny space between the house and the fence. I couldn't fathom that this was where she was getting out, and then I remembered, if she can get out of her crate when only one of the two latches are unlocked, she can squeeze through this space easy-peasy!

I solved the problem with a nail and a piece of wood, and I knew I'd gotten it right when she began to pace nervously as I did this. Poor puppy, her freedom revoked!

Thank goodness I had a piece the perfect size. hammering one nail was about all I could muster today. I never could have handled having to saw something today!