Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

The meet and greet between my dog, Una, and our new kitty, Luke, went well last night. We had Una on a leash and took her into the bedroom, where Luke was hanging out. Una was very good, lying down when we told her to, and being calm while Luke took his time to come up to her.

Luke was very calm, himself, lying around the corner of the bed just inches from her for a long time. He came up to her once but then changed his mind and walked away again.

He was sufficiently comfortable about the situation, though, to eat some food and then lie down for a nap.

At the end of the evening, when we had the baby gate up again, they approached each other and were nuzzling and licking each other through the fence.

This morning, Luke decided he wanted to explore the rest of the house, so while The Gryphon was in the shower, he hopped over the baby gate and began exploring. We discussed it and decided to allow Luke free reign of the house, since he seems ready for it. While they haven't exactly been snuggling with each other, Una and Luke are definitely on good terms. Any time Una gets a little too pushy, Luke retreats to a safe spot. But most of the time, Una calmly goes about her business.

Since this was always about Luke's comfort zone, now that he feels comfortable coming out in the open with Una around, I feel comfortable letting him.

Of course, Una of late is occupied with another activity, mainly taking care of a sick person, me. Now, being a dog, there isn't a whole lot she can do except be sympathetic, so I've been getting a lot of doggy licks, especially when I cough in my sleep. I wake up to find her lying next to me, concerned look on her face, ready to lick me again, should I cough again.

Usually, I just roll over and pull the covers over my head.

You can't tell a dog, "I feel better than yesterday, honestly," or "This should only last about seven to 10 days." For all they know, you're about to pass out and could be in desperate need or SLR, Sympathetic Lick Resuscitation.

I told The Gryphon about this, and he joked that we should get her one of those little barrels of brandy to carry around her next, like the legendary rescue sheepdogs that look for avalanche victims.

"Don't encourage her," I said.

The symptoms started making themselves apparent at the tail end of last weekend's Halloween party, when my voice went on me. It still hasn't entirely returned. Since then, each day has been a wonderful surprise as I encounter new symptoms: from general discombobulation to migraine to congestion to a persistent dry cough. My tongue has turned all kinds of interesting colors, no doubt abetted by the cough drops I'm forced to ingest.

Earlier in the week, when I was most out of it, there were times when I felt Una and I had exchanged roles. I had gone from being her caretaker to her charge. I would wake up to find her hovering over me, a gentle look on her face, as if to say, "There, there. It will be OK."

When I tried to tell her to go away, I could barely get out the words and had to resort to hand signals and gestures. She looked at me, benevolently, as if to say, "Poor dear. Must be delirious. She thinks she doesn't need my help."

In the last day or so, she's grown tired of her nursing role and when I'm taking one of my many naps, she's just as likely to find her way downstairs to the couch, where she can sleep uninterrupted by my dry, hacking cough.

I've been trying to take it easy, getting lots of rest, drinking fluids, yada, yada, yada. Since the animals are now on good terms with each other, I may actually sleep in the bedroom tonight. Hopefully, Luke hasn't decided he's also a caretaker, or I may wake up after a coughing fit to find myself tended by two furry nurses.

Copyright 2005 by Alyce Wilson

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