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March 6, 1998
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Guinea Pig Links Around the World
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Lizzy called last night to tell me it's her turn to have the guinea pigs this weekend so she wants to be picked up at school instead of taking the bus. Didn't we just have the gp's? I distinctly remember picking them up at the G's house this semester. No, wait, it was when Joan-west was here in December. Anyway, this means I have to leave my house earlier than on days when I meet them (the kids, not the gp's) at the bus. Meanwhile, Wilbur is due for his shots so I made a vet appointment for this morning at 10:00. We seem to have reached a milestone in "the taming of Wilbur" - he did not cause bodily harm to the vet! We were in and out in 15 minutes with no blood shed. He did let out a few unearthly yowls and try to escape from the exam room, but he didn't attack. The only hitch in the whole thing was my having to explain to the vet yet again that I want the FLV vaccine even though Wilbur does not go outside and I don't have other cats because I am exposed to other cats and unlike some of the other diseases I encounter, I could bring it home to Wilbur on my clothes or person (it survives for about a half-hour - the length of my commute). Anyway, this time when I explained it light dawned and she said "of course, I vaccinate my cats for FLV for the same reason." Now is the point where if Nancy were looking over my shoulder as I write this she would remind me that I still have not gotten myself the preexposure rabies vaccine. Hey, I can live dangerously myself. I just don't want Wilbur to live dangerously. Besides, I am not allowed in the rabies quarantine room because I haven't had the vaccine. I do handle dishes and litterboxes from there but with plenty of bleach so I'm quite safe. Besides that, none of the cats we've quarantined because of wounds of unknown origin or whatever have ever actually had rabies. It's just a precaution. So, having survived the vet trip in unexpectedly good shape and only $60 poorer, I set out for Starbucks for a high-priced caffeinated reward. Remarkably, none of the usual suspects were there. In fact the place was practically empty. I lingered over my caffe latte and New England's Prospect, with its fascinating descriptions of the plantations (as they were called then) around Boston in 1634. Dorchester was quite the place to be in those days. My absorption in 17th century New England left me only enough time to change my clothes, not to shower again so I fear I shall smell bad to Andrea again as the coffee smell lingers in my hair as well as my clothes. At least my clothes won't smell like coffee. Pickups at Florence Roche is a madhouse. The gym is full of younger siblings running around in circles while they await their big brothers or big sisters. They act like they've been cooped up for a year even though they've just come in from outside minutes ago. Most of the parents are young enough to be my children. Well, maybe not quite, but close. They're pretty young and I'm pretty darn old. Andrea's class arrives first. Andrea stands in the general vicinity of me without saying a word of greeting or acknowledging my presence. Lizzy finally arrives and says we have to go to her classroom to get Sweet pea and Petunia. Walking from the gym to the 4th grade classroom is like swimming against a strong tide - tide made of waist high children. Andrea hugs every teacher's aide, school nurse, etc. en route. By the time we arrive at the classroom - also a madhouse - I feel like a giant who has fallen into a land of manic midgets. They swirl around me like a fluid dynamics experiment the flow streaming around me and closing ranks again on the other side. Sweet pea and Petunia have their own blankie to cover the cage. I get to carry the extra food and straw, Lizzy's jacket, and a huge paper bag of Lizzy's stuff while Lizzy carries the gp cage. We trudge back through the school, out the front door, and across the parking lot to the Auntmobile. Within moments of settling into the Auntmobile the gp's have pooped and have scratched copious amounts of wood shavings out of the cage and onto the upholstery. Andrea's right, I shouldn't bother to clean the car from week to week. Maybe I'll only clean it once a year when I drive the walking buddies to North Conway or something - unless Nancy and I go someplace with Annette and Liz in which case the car will need to be clean until someone spills coffee in it or something. Bertha is at the back door waiting to be let in moments after we arrive with the gp's at the front door. Lizzy admonishes me not to let Bertha in until the gp's are safe in her room with the door closed. Eventually, the gp's are settled in. Bertha and Jellybean come in, eat, go out, come in, go out, come in. Lizzy and Andrea play soccer outside until it's too cold. It's too cold for me long before that because I'm not running around playing soccer - much to Andrea's frustration. I'm no fun since I hurt my knee last summer. Even with the Lodine in my system I don't feel comfortable running around kicking a soccer ball on uneven ground. I run around a little and step in a hole and feel the knee slide sideways. Darn. I dribble a basketball and shoot a few layups at an imaginary basket in the driveway. That's not so good for the knee either. I've been tired all day and yesterday too. I put an Uno's pizza in the oven for supper. Andrea hates pizza this week and barely touches hers. She's been in a bad mood all afternoon. Kevin comes home just before 8:00. I leave. End of day. |
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