#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
No sun on the river, late afternoon
Brittany. 5:00 a.m., like an unwanted alarm. So I follow her down and feed the dogs, bleary eyed. Oh well. Thus begins a strange morning. I will swim, and prepare to leave. But my son says there is a sick raccoon outside one of our sliding glass doors. He includes a picture in his text. Oh dear. I’ve been through this before. Years ago, a Wednesday morning of our writing group when it was at Farm Pond at my friend’s house we were writing outside in the yard when we saw a cat on the grass that actually was a dying raccoon. and, concerned about rabies, we all went indoors, called the police. Our writing for the day was done, it was hard to concentrate. A policeman came and put him out of his misery. Yes, he was very sick and obviously dying. Then the body stayed there til animal control came. Well, today is writing group Wednesday, so why is my writer’s group being haunted by dying raccoons? I called the police and they sent an officer and he decided the raccoon wasn’t rabid and said I had to call someone, meaning pay someone, to come and deal with the animal. My son tried to reach some people but nobody was open yet. I had a wonderful swim. I focused on my breathing, my stroke, and I was very happy in the water. Then, driving home I was mad. Because the animal very likely has rabies! I called the police, convinced another officer to come, and then the dispatcher called me back and said no, they’d already sent someone. I decided not to get in an argument with the dispatcher. I set up for my group, kept the dogs and Wave in and had a wonderful writing group. We welcomed a new writer, an excellent fit. We tackled a tough topic in my prompt, the writing was amazing, and I was happy. Frank’s wonderful executive assistant extraordinaire tracked down the raccoon helper and by the time I was done with my Israeli support group, all was well at all of our doors and the dogs could go out and play safely. Our Israeli group was, as it always is, very moving. Such a strong bond of cohesion in this group. I am tired tonight and Frank will soon be home. My uncle has moved into hospice. I will see him and my aunt on Friday, I hope. I have lost my car key, the the electronic kind. I think it’s in the yard under piles of leaves. I hope I will meet it again before it needs to be replaced. I’m grateful it can be replaced. I’m sorry about the sick raccoon.