To panic or not to panic.

If something goes sideways, I’ve been told I’m a good person to be around.

I consider this a compliment. I’ve been in a position to handle some rather difficult/frustrating/sensitive/confidential etc. situations and I feel I’ve handled them the best I could. The fact that I’ve been called a “rock” tells me that I may have done just that.

When it was suggested that I work from home last week, I was prepared and willing to do so. I am able to do some development and planning while I cannot be in the public. As with so many people, I’ve been trying to get my head around the various developments evolving sometimes hourly. I am usually a “glass half full” kinda person. I ensure my family has food, the house is clean, that everything feels “normal”.

But it’s not normal for anyone.

I’ve been frustrated with how people fail to take this situation seriously. I judge others as I judge myself, which is to say I assume people ingest their news from more than one (reputable) news outlet. I assume people check and see when a social media post is bullshit and don’t share it. I assume people want the greater good and will do what’s necessary to keep others safe.

You know what they say about assuming…..

I’m fortunate to have a supportive employer that values me and the work I do. So does the Big Guy. His employer is offer five-star support to staff, including paying people who only worked two days before a company-wide shutdown was implemented days before it was mandated by the Province.

Second Born Son works alone, so he was fine to leave home, but today his supervisor said he too could work from home. Now there’s three of us working in the house – the office and dining room are now work spaces. Cozy, and I’m glad I can keep them here with me.

If I didn’t already have grey hair, the work situation for First Born Son would have made me go grey. They are still working. There are no measures taken for 40+ people outside of posting hand washing instructions in a large common washroom. Supposedly there will be a shutdown tomorrow. Thanks to the Premier. Never thought I’d type those words! It’s sad to think a business owner could think so little of the people who work for him to disregard their health and wellbeing, and that of their families. Some employees don’t have an option to quit work as it means forgoing Employment Insurance.

I reach out to our senior friends and family. Some of them are very emotional and frightened to be isolated. Some are definitely less mentally stable. It’s a difficult time for everyone.

What I’m experiencing is no different than what everyone else is going through. We all have our own frames of reference, but the unknown, the “is it going to happen now…or now…or now?” is the same.  We all have health issues to deal with, family members who are struggling, children who are at risk, jobs that hang in the balance. I know people who are watching their dreams of being their own boss hit very troubled waters. Small businesses, so long overlooked as a major contributor to our economy, are suddenly valued and vulnerable.

I don’t like writing overly negative posts such as this one. I’m sorry that it’s heavy. I just feel that today, being “light” or “funny” isn’t authentic. Maybe tomorrow will be a day to find the humour in something. Perhaps I’ll find out some good news that will give me a more balanced perspective.

But for today; 1. because there’s nothing I can control, 2.  no one is in control, it feels like a lot.

Here’s to a better tomorrow.

Be well!

Happy Birthday – I can’t Afford a Present…

This handsome fella is seven years old today!

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He nearly didn’t make it!

Seriously.

(If you have a weak stomach, leave NOW!)

Cane decided to give us (Second Born Son & me) a collective heart attack last week. SBS notice he was not feeling well. Vomiting and diarrhea. He then noticed that there seemed to be something coming out of his derriere. The photo he emailed me showed approximately THREE FEET OF FINE ROPE.

THREE FEET.

OF ROPE.

3 FT.

I immediately forward the pictures to our vet’s office. Then I call them. I use my calmest voice to tell the lovely assistant that I NEED them to look at the email I sent RIGHT FREAKIN’ NOW.

She puts me on hold. I can almost hear her eyes rolling. And then she gets back on the phone.

“Um, yah, we are going to need you to go to (the main clinic) as soon as you can. How soon can you be there?”

I’m standing outside my work which is 40 minutes away from home. Then I have to load up the dog, then I have to go the main clinic which is another 40 GOD-DAMN MINUTES IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION!

I am about to set a land speed record.

On my way home, I get a call from the lovely young assistant. She tells me she has taken the initiative to put together two quotes; one for the initial x-rays and examination, another for emergency surgery, ” in case we have to make decisions quickly.”

This is code for, “this is bad.” She tells me the cost for the surgery will be between $3,000-$4,000. I’m wondering what the black market rate is for kidneys, cuz I don’t have that kinda cheddar laying around. Who does?? Don’t answer that.

Once I get home, I’m met by the dog. It’s as bad as I envisioned. I pull into the garage and run inside to change before loading the dog, rope and son into the pickup truck.

Upon my return I’m horrified to see the rope is completely gone. It’s now wrapped around the base of the tires of my vehicle. It was pulled out as Cane ran around the vehicle.

THERE’S SEVEN FEET OF ROPE.

SEVEN FEET.

7 FT.

OF ROPE.

BASICALLY TWICE AS MUCH AS THERE WAS BEFORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am thrilled, horrified, fascinated, horrified, and panicked in a matter of seconds. Call to vet clinic confirms we should still come over in case there is any rope left in him (JAY-ZUS HOW MUCH MORE COULD THIS BEAST HOLD??)

Over we go. He’s not happy. He doesn’t care there’s a truck ride happening.

At the office they complete the examination. Cane is doing so well. They decide to do the x-ray. There’s nothing inside, they don’t think… whaaaaaaat? There was damage. It shouldn’t be permanent. Shouldn’t.

“How did he get into the rope?” they ask.

I have no clue.

“What kind of rope do you think it is?”

It looks like baler twine. We don’t have baler twine. What are you suggesting????????

$400+ later, we take Cane home. He’s happier, calmer (thanks to the sedative) and laying down in the back seat.

SBS and I look at each other, amazed at how a regular Wednesday turns into a freakin’ reality show.

Suffice it to say, there’s no new chew toy for Cane this year. He chomped down 7 ft of rope, so I think he’s good.

Happy Birthday Cane!