“Can you come over so the dog can pee on you?” I asked my daughter.
“We need to get a urine sample for the vet.”
I heard the patient, deep inhale expressing the standard ‘what-now’ from my 25-year-old. “I’m on a conference call, mom. I’m working?”
Along with most people, Scarlett has been working from home, but her home is joyously only two miles away from my own. I never want her to move way. And the thing is, for whatever reason. . . not a good one. . . Gemma, our exuberant Golden, is always so excited when she sees Scarlett, that she pees. (We’re working on it. Don’t start with me.)
“Come on. Break away. We only need you for like five minutes. You know she’ll pee all over you when you walk in the door. We can have the meet and greet inside. Your dad has the turkey baster out and thinks he can suck up the puddle from the floor.”
Our sweet baby dog had been having uncommon accidents and I’ll try not to totally disgust you – too late? – by describing the smell. Let’s just say it’s pee on crack. And Gemma has singularly chosen the upstairs hallway outside our bedroom door and the middle of the night to empty her bladder. It’s delightful to wake up to the smell and to then find a wet, mushy surprise with your bare foot.
Scarlett laughed, but a bit maniacal. “Did it occur to you that I don’t want to be peed on?”
I frowned. “I’ll not go into your own diaper changes. Come on. Your dad and I have had her on a leash outside for like an hour. I’m following her around with a Tupperware bowl. It’s not working. I think it might hurt when she pees. You’re the one who said she might have a bladder infection, Miss Nurse, who I paid to send through college.”
I heard a big sigh. “What time is her vet appointment?”
“In three hours. If I don’t bring in a urine sample, they’ll have to keep her for a long time and then I don’t even know how they’ll do it. But it will be expensive. They’re like lawyers with billing hours. It’s going to cost us another fortune. And we just had the carpets replaced and your dad just steam cleaned the hall and she did it again last night.”
“The carpet in the hall is not new.”
She had me there. But still, it would most likely have to be “new” soon. Just add it onto the bill, Gemma. You’ve cost us a fortune in medical bills. We may be unexciting and generally non-athletic, but when you chose us as your family, you can’t deny you got a damn good medical plan.
“What about Covid? Me coming inside?” Scarlett annoyingly pressed.
My daughter had not been inside my home for months. We’ve been soooo good. We’ve met in parks and went for walks sometimes. We sang her happy birthday outside her door with a cake and left it and the presents on her doorstep. It’s been hell not to hold her and kiss her, but I shouldn’t complain. So far, we’ve all been healthy. And that is what is most important.
“You can wear a mask,” I said.
“Ahh. All right. I’m on my way.”
“Thank you, baby. We appreciate it. It’s like you’re nursing the entire world. Taking care of us all.”
“I can’t wait.”
“I’ll load you up with pudding shots before you go. Your dad and I made chocolate ones with Vodka and Cherry Baileys last night.”
I glared at the phone. “What do you mean, why?”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
And there you have it. One can always change the atmosphere and general delight with a delicious chocolate pudding shot. And a turkey baster filled with pee.
It’s a good thing.