Today for the first time since his surgery I had to leave Abe alone for a couple hours.
At first I was thinking I could leave him in my bedroom with the door closed, but then he would want to get on the bed with Mojo, and that would be bad. He is not allowed to jump off furniture -- it could mess up his newly repaired knee.
So I decided to get the dog cage out. (I was working under a deadline, my ride was on her way). I opened the first Rubbermaid shed outside. No cage. Checked the second. Still no cage. Whipped around the corner and down the side of the house to the third shed. Cool! The cage is here, and right in front! Things are working out. I can do this...
Except bleh. Mouse poopage in the shed. Right there. Dang. And then, even worse, mouse poopage creator in the shed. A big fat healthy-looking mouse runs out. Stares at me for a second, then runs down into the back corner of the shed.
(Just telling this is making my eyes itchy and my skin feel crawly. I am going to have to shower when I finish writing this...)
But I don't have time to scream and get all girly. My ride is almost here and I still have to put the cage together. So I drag half the cage around the back of the house and through the house to the front of the house. I don't know why I didn't just go out the gate that was right there -- could have saved me from dragging the cage all that way. I guess between the mouse and the time crunch I wasn't doing alot of thinking and planning.
I go back to get the other half of the cage parts. The fat little pest runs out and under the box next to the shed. Yuck again. Mice are not cute.
As I am dragging the second half of the cage down the side of the house, halfway across the backyard, and then through the family room into the living room, I think, "mouse germs. That nasty little bastard could have used the cage for a ladder and now there are mouse germs."
So I drag the cage (man am I getting sick of this cage) out the front door and lean it against the palm trees. Two trips because this is a huge unwieldy cage in six parts.
Suddenly I think, "Hanta virus. Mice in the desert Southwest carry the Hanta virus." So great. Now not only will I have a dog with Valley Fever, I will kill the other one -- the one I just spent a pile of money on to fix his knee -- with a Hanta virus-laden cage.
So I go into the bathroom to get the Lysol. While in the bathroom, I accidentally glance in the mirror and realize I have not yet combed my hair. I reach back to do something with the back of it, and now. Wham. Hanta virus on my head. Crap.
I think, "I do not have time to take another shower. Just don't touch anything else." So I spray Lysol on the dog cage, drag it back inside, get the new cushy soft fleecy dog blanket, and set the cage up. Then I wash my hands, go in the bathroom and use hairspray on my head -- now I have the Hanta virus lacquered to my scalp. Yay.
I am brushing my teeth when my ride shows up. I stuff Abe in the cage, toss Abe and Mo each a couple of treats, and then ask my friend if there is the Hanta virus in southern Arizona. Yup.
So now I have a hysterical case of the Hanta virus. Thanks to the internet, I know this means I should be getting a headache, joint pain, stomach pain, lower back pain, coughing, nausea and vomiting, and then possibly die.
On the good side, it doesn't seem to effect dogs. So I didn't waste my money on Abe's knee.
Yeah, yeah...I know that the common house mouse doesn't carry the Hanta virus -- it looked like a plain old mouse to me, but I didn't ask to see his ID...And it is an incredibly rare disease. But having an hysterical case of it is much more interesting than "hey. I saw a mouse today."