From broken bones to broken spirits; another bad day

What you need to know, is that summer break didn’t end when it was supposed to, because of Hurricane Debby. Instead of a Thursday start to the school year we had to wait for a Monday. Because it rained. So they cancelled school. For two days. But I’m not bitter.

You know when you’re in the thick of chaos and your anticipated schedule is not happening? For example, you’re on a work call, the kids are screaming, the dogs are barking, you can’t take your microphone off mute but if you don’t speak up right now in this meeting you’re going to get tasked with a most dreadful assignment…and there it is, assigned to you. Now you have this terrible project that no one else wanted. In that moment you think, it’s okay, there’s 4 days of summer break left and then my kids will be in school. I will be peacefully drinking coffee with my microphone unmuted during this meeting next week and when the next terrible task is delegated I’ll be able to respond in time.

That 4 days turned to 8 because of Debby and I sat at my desk during yet another morning meeting with chaos behind me and thought, “it’s okay, I’ll make it. I will eventually show my colleagues that I can speak in complete sentences and that I can turn my camera on intentionally, instead of accidentally bumping the button at a most inconvenient time.”

I had that glorious routine for one lousy week and then Benji broke his arm. Once again I was absent from meetings, my house was chaos and I thought, “on Wednesday I will be back in the routine. On Wednesday the kids will all be in school, albeit in pieces, and order will be restored.”

Wednesday dawned.

I was getting ready for my cycling trainer ride with water bottles, snacks, caffeine pill, all precariously balanced on a table next to the bike.

Five minutes in, the trainer implodes. It sounds very bad, lots of grinding sounds, Hubs comes in and tells me to shut it down. Fortunately we have a spare trainer. We hurriedly swap it out. Then Ronald the Roomba noses in while I’m pedaling and jostles my table. Everything goes flying off, he continues on his way, oblivious.

15 minutes into the ride I reach for the caffeine tablet, it’s like drinking a cup of coffee, without the liquid. You can see how this is useful for a 3 hour bike ride. It’s not there. Hmm. It has fallen off my table. But it’s not on the floor. It’s not anywhere. This leaves me with three options. 1) Ronald knocked it off and sucked it up. 2) I knocked it off during the trainer swap and Remy ate it. 3) Same as 2 except Juno ate it.

I was leaning towards 1 or 2, as Juno is one of the more intelligent beasts in our family and eating something that resembles plastic would not fall in her purview.

A quick google revealed caffeine is HIGHLY toxic to dogs.

Now I really needed to figure out if it was 1 or 2. Thus ensued chaos. I crawled around on the floor, looking in cracks, under the treadmill, moving furniture, behind dust bunnies. I found many things, mostly that my floors are disgusting, but I did not find a small white pill.

There are always muddy dog prints. Everywhere.

I stared into Remy’s face for a while, willing him to reveal the truth to me. No luck.

To the vacuum then. I disassembled Ronald, everywhere, no tablet. I emptied Ronald’s bag of detritus onto a cookie sheet and filtered through it with my bare hands. No white tablet. An alarming amount of my hair, but no tablet.

Checked the floor once more, stared into Remy’s soul a little longer, then called the vet. I stepped outside to get fresh air (did you see what was in the detritus bag) and Bob the cat comes trotting over with a baby squirrel in his mouth. (warning, graphic squirrel image below)

Hubs walked out at the exact moment I threw my hands in the air, “I HAVE HAD ENOUGH. Bob you are a MONSTER. How could you kill this BABY?”

My outrage frightened Bob back a few steps, the squirrel lay on the pavement, twitching. At which point, Juno, the saintliest of dogs; the dog that sleeps with Benji because he’s afraid of the dark; the dog that senses emotional disturbances as if it were her job; PICKS UP THE BABY SQUIRREL IN HER MOUTH AND TRIES TO TO EAT IT.

I screamed.

I turned to Hubs, “all hope is lost. Remy is going to perish from caffeine overdose. The cats are evil and bathe in the blood of innocents. Juno has turned into a monster. And I’ve seen things inside the vacuum canister I can never unsee. Do something about that squirrel. It’s twitching. I surrender.”

I walked into the house to his words, “I just wondered…did something happen inside…it seems a little chaotic in there. Where are you going?”

“To bed,” I declared.

“It’s 11:00 AM?”

“Yep. This day wins. This day wins big time. Don’t forget the squirrel.”

*Remy is fine. Turns out the concentration for toxic levels of caffeine is much higher than 100 mg for a 50 lb dog.