Scary Times

I work from home.  Mostly I sit at my desk, staring at the computer.  It's quiet, cerebral, routinized.  From my "command post" I can hear the comings and goings of neighbors in the alley, the mailman, traffic out front, the construction of the God-awful replacement of the knock-down a block away, and of course, the dogs.  On most days, there is not much noise from them.  Once they've had exercise, breakfast, their chew treats, and some attention, they find their sleeping spots and stay there until it's time for their late afternoon walk.  Unless they think they can mooch some cheese for lunch.  And on rare occasion, Sage lets the mailman know it's her house.  I try to tell her barking at the mailman is a cliche, but she persists.

Yesterday while staring at some documents I am using for my work, I hear thumping from upstairs.  At first I think it is Murphy doing that lab wiping thing, where she goes back and forth  along the side of the bed, itching.  But the noise continues longer than usual, so I head  upstairs.  By now, Sage is downstairs, and doesn't come up with me, a clear sign something is amiss.

As I reach the top of the stairs, I hear small, tiny whimpers.  I don't see Murphy, until I look under the bed.  She is under there, stuck.  And, I notice a wave of pee heading toward me.  She must be scared enough to "wet her pants."  I grab a towel to stop the pee wave, and crawl under the bed to rescue Murph.

It's how it is, now.  Last week I got a panicked call from my Mom that my father had wandered out of the condo and she hadn't a clue where he was.  I found him gleefully eating a pastry and drinking coffee at a bakery in the Pike Place Market.  He just wanted something to eat.  There must have been something under the bed that Murphy wanted, or perhaps the wind against the house scared her, and she sought refuge in a bunker.  I waited until Dad was done eating and took him home, loving his sense of independence and reminding Mom we need a card with his emergency information tucked into his pocket.  I got Murphy out, hugged her, washed off any pee that might have been on her, and took her for a nice walk.  It's how it is, now.  

Murphy's day.