Mommy is Sick

My dogs have been watching me closely for two days now. I think they’re waiting. They’re being patient and sweet and waiting. In the past forty eight hours, all five of my dogs have chosen to lie at my feet, or by the fire or on the loveseat where humans never sit. None of them have so much as hinted at a request to sit next to me on the couch.

Call me crazy or silly or romantic, but I know that they know that I am sick. I have had the worst cold/flu that I’ve seen in at least a decade. I have been miserable and in pain, not to mention very, very edgy because I’m a busy woman who has been banned from work by the limitations of her own body.

I swallow hard and cringe because my throat is sore and my ears hurt whenever I swallow. Every time I do this, my Izzy girl looks at me and cocks her head. I walk slowly and moan as I shuffle my feet. As I walk, my lumbering Emma doll walks behind me seeming to be ready to catch me if I fall.

I am in a slight fog due to several doses of herbal tea, cold remedies, cough drops and impromptu napping. When I wake up, I find all five of my dogs scattered around me as if keeping a vigil.

Ringo and Russell, the two JRTs are being extraordinarily polite to one another, and Rodie the Yorkie Poo has not given out his high-pitched, war-cry of a yip that signals the departure of our neighbor’s vehicle for two days now.

In the middle of the night, when I’ve been unable to find enough comfort to sleep, Izzy and Emma have followed me from the bed to the couch and back again several times.

I have sat up straight from a few of my cold medicine induced naps in a panic, saying out loud, “I didn’t feed the dogs!” My husband assures me he’s taking care of everything. They’ve been fed, they’ve had their chewy sticks, and they’ve played in the pond. They’ve been thoroughly petted and loved.

I want to do those things myself! But then I try to move only to find myself surrounded by imaginary molasses making it impossible to do much of anything.

Meanwhile, my dogs wait. I’m getting well as fast as I can. They look at me every now and then as if they’re checking, “Are you back yet? Is it you?” One look tells them that mommy is still sick.

Okay, so maybe I am being a little goofy, or it’s the cold medicine talking. I may be thoroughly anthropomorphizing, but I’m going to choose to believe that my dogs miss me and are concerned for my health. My dogs love me, and that's the best medicine there is.

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