Wishing all good health and peace during these difficult times. Being under house arrest can be trying.

We try to keep busy and, when possible, help others to cope during the virus pandemic. However, at times, our efforts can lead to unexpected outcomes, as you will see in . . .

But She’s Our “Daughter”

     We’d been cooped up in our house in Lincoln, in Placer County, California, for over two weeks, because of the virus. However, it seemed like two years. It was Saturday, April 3, 2020, a day that usually meant doing something with our neighbors. But the fear of spreading the dreadful disease kept us confined. We were climbing the walls.

     “What’re your plans for today, Alan?” Barbara asked.

     “Plans? Guess I’ll walk the dogs.”

     “Well, remember to stay six feet away from people.”

     “That’s why the dogs are on six-foot leashes. They can greet the people I meet and still keep me safe.”
     “Sounds good,” she replied. “And what are you going to do the rest of the day?”

     “Work on getting the word out about the 2020 Voices of Lincoln Poetry Contest. It starts in April. If I didn’t have that to do, I’d probably go crazy. And what are you going to do?”

     “Well, first I’ll pick up the poop in the backyard. Then, I’ve got an idea.”

     “Idea? Want to share it with me?”

     “Yeah. I’m going to make masks for a number of our friends who don’t have them.”

     “That sounds great. You going to make me one?”

     “I don’t think you’ll like the material I have—a bit too feminine for you.”

     “How do you know?”

     “Come, I’ll show you.”

     I followed her into the laundry room, where the sewing machine was. She pulled the material out from the top drawer and held it up. I looked at it and cringed. “It won’t go with my gray sweats. Don’t you have anything else?”

     “Let me check. Okay, I have black cloth. How does this look?”

     She placed it over her nose and mouth. I grimaced and gulped, “You look like you’re going to rob a bank.”

     “Guess this won’t work for you, either. However, I do have some solid beige masks my doctor gave me a while back, before we even knew there’d be a virus pandemic.” She reached into the bottom drawer. “Wear this one, so you’ll be protected.”

     “Okay. I’m going to hook up the kids and take them for their walk. See you when we return.”

     Both dogs were anxious to go. Abby, our fourteen-year-old schnoodle pushed her nose against my leg. And then, Miss Jealous, Izzy, our six-month-old mini goldendoodle, but twice Abby’s size, jumped over her head, so she could be hooked up first.

     Our youngest daughter was extremely loveable, but she also ruled the roost. She wanted to be in control, and she usually was. After putting the dogs’ leashes on, I left the garage and began our journey. Izzy loved to walk and Abby seemed inspired, as well. We went up one block and down the other, each dog smelling all that was good in nature and “reading” the many messages left by friends and possible future acquaintances.

     When we returned from the walk and entered the house through the garage, Barbara was working on the sewing machine. She stopped and looked up. “Have a nice walk?”

     “Yeah, great. Izzy took the lead and Abby and I followed. How is your project going?”

     “Very good.”

     She held up a flowered red and white mask. “Looks great,” I stated.

     “Try it on,” she urged.

     “I’ll pass. If you need me, I’ll be in my office working on the contest.”

     I headed into the office, collapsed into my chair in front of my computer, and began writing emails to poetry groups, libraries, and other organizations that might help publicize the contest. Then, engrossed in my task, my peaceful world was shaken by a loud scream coming from the laundry room.

     Jumping out of my chair, I ran in there to see what had happened. Barbara stared at me in pain and held up her index finger. What I saw blew me away. The sewing machine needle went in one side of the finger and out the other. She yelled, “I can’t get this out. Help me!”

     I tried as best I could, but I couldn’t remove it. The needle wouldn’t budge. “We need to go to Urgent Care,” I said, emphasizing urgent. We wrapped a tissue around the finger to absorb the blood and she got up to go to the car. “How did this happen?”

     “I shut off the sewing machine, so I could reposition the material to make the mask. My hand was under the needle. Izzy came into the room, ran

under my legs, and stepped on the pedal, starting the machine. The needle went right through my finger.”

     “You’re the one who wanted a puppy,” I said.

     “But she didn’t do it on purpose.”

     “I know. She’s our daughter and we love her. But we better get going.”

     We headed to the Urgent Care in the Safeway Shopping Center, about two miles away. Fortunately, they took Barbara immediately, removed the needle, and gave her a tetanus shot. We were in and out in under a half hour, and Barbara had more pain from the shot than from the penetration of the needle.

     After dinner, we watched a Lifetime Channel movie and played Gin Rummy. Barbara looked over at Izzy and asked me, “What is she chewing on?”

     “I don’t have any idea.”

     “Oh, my god! It’s my dental partial,” she screamed. She got up off the couch and managed to pull it from Izzy’s mouth. Looking at it, she said, “Oh, boy! It’s chewed up and one of the teeth is missing.”

     “How did she get it?” I asked.

     “I took it out when we were eating and put it on my cloth napkin on the table. She must’ve pulled on the napkin and it fell onto the floor.”

     “Well, first she caused a medical emergency and now a dental calamity.”

     “Yeah, but she’s our daughter, and we love her. Don’t we?” Barbara asked.

     “Yes, we do.”

     You might have thought this is where the story ends. But you’re wrong.

Izzy is extremely bright. So, to make amends for what she had done, she agreed to take an online sewing class this spring and to enroll in the dental assisting program at the local community college for the fall semester. She believed this would make us proud.

     Since things are said to happen in threes, Izzy had one more healthcare episode to engage in. Five days ago, on April 9, she was spayed. But she’s still our daughter, and we love her.

Copyright © 2020 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.