Tara had a busy "day off." Her basic schedule consisted of: 1) taking our pug Chandler back to the vet (for the fifth or sixth time the past month) to check on his ulcerated cornea; 2) awaiting delivery of our "new" used clothes washer; and, 3) picking up Elizabeth from school. Underlying all of this, she's been sick with a cold or whatever it is.
Mid-morning, I was at work typing an email to her about Sunny [see previous story] when Tara called to update me on Chandler. The vet, Dr. Paula, said he keeps reinjuring his eyeball and, no matter how many ointments, drops or pills we've given him lately, he had "taken 15 steps back."
Paula and a veterinary ophthalmologist are convinced he has been scratching at it, though we've never witnessed that. Anyway, now he's wearing a cone, which he hates.
While I had her on the phone, I told Tara my theory about what happened to Sunny. She said, "Ah-uh." Most people would describe this as "aha," but that's not a true depiction of its sound. And I'm all about true depictions. She called back around lunchtime saying that she and Daisy were searching the neighborhood looking for Sunny, with no luck.
Around 2:30 Tara called in a panic. She doesn't normally interrupt me at work so much, but yesterday was "special." She was saying I might need to come home early. Now our pug Joey was missing. What the hell was going on with our pets!? After the washer was delivered, Joey had somehow escaped. "He's just gone!" she said with a cry in her voice. I was preparing to pack up and head home when she said, "Wait, here he is!" To Joey, she says, "Joey come here now!" Back to me, "Well, he's alive now, but I might kill him before you get home."
Apparently yesterday was the day to go missing. That night, Tara had closed the back door, not knowing Elizabeth was still in the back yard "looking for Sunny" even though she'd already been found.
When I didn't see Elizabeth anywhere in the house, I asked now my turn to panic "Where's Elizabeth!?"
Ahhhh, the life of a parent of children and pets.