Misery loves company and trouble comes is threes. We’ve all heard the sayings and we’ve all had a run in of bad luck. My last week will have you shaking your head going ‘thank God that wasn’t me’.
It started Wednesday. The day had been going well until we were at gymnastics. During my son’s gymnastics class my head started pounding, my vision started swimming and I was dizzy. As I’m battling this I get a call from my husband saying we have give Heidi back.
Apparently the base we live on has a zero fostering policy while the rescue requires a minimum of 10 days of fostering to adopt. Okay, I can see both their points I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.
The next day I couldn’t talk and was running a fever. The guy came to get Heidi and I spent until Tuesday sick as hell. Then the cold moved into my chest. Now I’m coughing so hard I’m waking myself up at night.
(Hopefully by the time this posts it’ll be gone. I schedule my posts to come out every three days. It’s been exactly a week since Heidi left as I’m writing this one.)
Thursday I get a call from my father. He had been fostering a large dog and as he was putting it outside on a line during a snow storm that hit TN, he fell. And broke four bones in his ankle. Then he had to crawl 100-300ft through the snow to his neighbor’s house to get them to take him to the doctor. He had done this on Wednesday the day I got sick. His surgery to have a cage put on his ankle was for the following Friday (the 15th).
And it keeps coming. Then my husband comes home and says that he’s finally going to get the cysts removed. He had three; one on his back, one on his bicep and one on his forearm. He had surgery on Monday; two of them were still bleeding on Tuesday and I sent him back to the flight doctor.
Have a gander at the worst looking two. Apparently the nurse had to leave the room.
Finally he started to heal and he doesn’t have to go back in until he gets the stitches out.
It started off well. I called a friend to get together at the farmer’s market with her kids. Everything is going well until Happy. Yes, Happy as in one of the seven dwarves. She’s a 5 month old Jack; who was free, with her records, and came home with me.
Enter anxiety attack after realizing what I did. I must have cried for 30 minutes when I realized what I’d done. I don’t want a puppy. My husband wants a big dog. She’s hyper and insane and a puppy. After my lovely breakdown I drove back to the market only to discover that the owners were gone.
Somehow, somehow, the girl who makes the aprons was willing to foster her until they could find her a home. I owe that woman and her husband what little sanity I have left. I left her my number in case she needed anything and wished her luck.
As for my husband; he ordered me to take a bubble bath to calm down and agreed to wait until he retires in 7yrs before we look for another dog.
Thank, God, I have an awesome husband or I’d be crazy all the time instead of just for 30mins. Right about now I’m wishing I hadn’t given up coke for Lent. I could really use a shot of caffeine right now via a bubbly drink.