I have been sick. Like should have been lying in bed sick all week but still going to work sick which resulted in totally lying in bed sicker and henceforth, current state of whinging. This is just how it goes.

There aren’t really dog walks when I’m sick. Instead, they all pile in a clump wherever I am and either sleep quietly on top of me or play violently on top of me. Mostly play violently. Because of the no dog walks part. I like to think that Gustavo is all grown up, I have a nice household of mature dogs who are caring and understand that even my skin hurts today and we need to just lay low.

Instead, I have running and leaping and running and leaping and attacking the toys and the blankets then someone starts the howling. Ruby eyeballs the mayhem, climbs atop the couch, starts flapping her ears and shivering, and it’s because I do believe she is trying to figure out how to fly across the room above the fray. She tries to figure out how, but it’s useless, she just doesn’t fly, so gives up and joins in the howling. I have no voice, and just pull a blanket over my head and try to use psychic powers to get them to stop.

Once or twice, I feebly load them all up in the car and drive down to the whale skeletons. Let them all go and shuffle off in their dust down towards the sea. It seems like a hundred miles. They tear in circles and I shuffle and then I pack them back up in the car, and hope this bought me a bit of time of dogs that will just sleep by my side for a while. I come home and crumple on to our couch, which technically is a loveseat. Not sized to hold a human and 3 dogs of any size. There’s always a way though, dog on my chest, dog on my head, dog on my legs, and I wait for the plague to go away.