This is Steve packing up all my shit to come home! Most of it is DRUGS!! Oh and some hospital 'souvenirs' I just had to have.
6 Days in hospital is no picnic. It sure as shit is not in the same league as a girlie shopping weekend in Melbourne or a few days R and R somewhere posh with room service and Movies on demand. But where ever you go, it's always lovely to pull up in your own driveway.
Dog has been more than a little confused and her behaviour almost unacceptable. She knew something was up cos I packed a bag, but what was most unsettling was Steve's comings and goings. Night one smelt her dropping little piles of very embarrassed poo poos all the way to the front door. At 2.30 am, when it became clear that she was really really unsettled which was about the same time as shit smells wafted more strongly than just doggie fart, Steve hopped up and let her out, but she didn't quite make it outside. Her bum did little explosions on the way and then Steve spent time cleaning it up. Bless him, I would have been very bad at that.
So as the comings and goings became more predictable, Dog settled into a new routine, new but not necessarily in a good way.
We had worked out that she would go ape shit when she saw me. There's not the least little bit of malice in her. She isn't a cat that insists on making their owner feel guilty for leaving them behind. She is just a bundle of joy. She ran around and jumped in each of the front doors in a bid to give me a good old licking. I was wisely sitting in the back seat so had some protection. She has barely left my side all day.
The fountain girl is still humming her watery song and to climb onto familiar linens and see colourful soft towels and my own shower stuff is a welcome respite from all that clinical hospital shitola.
It sure is lovely to be home.