Finishing my fifth week of shingles, I still ingest ibuprofen for the pain but not as many. The internal pain decreases every day. Sleep comes more efficiently. Motion still causes the pain to increase but I am doing more every day.
Ginger is a redhead with a mind of her own. She is our resident fur baby with four paws, a long tail, and floppy ears that sometimes stand straight out. This morning while my wife took the trash to the street, she wants out on the other side of the house. She does her business then strains the leash around to see mom. However, mom finishes, comes back inside, and returns to the bedroom. Not seeing mom, she bangs at the door urgently wanting back into the house.
She races up the first set of stairs and to the front windows. She hopefully peers out the window to see mom but she is gone. She races to the kitchen door leading to the garage, no mom. Then another torrent to the front windows, still no mom in sight. She dashes to the back door with frenzy worry. With her head cocked to one side, she stops, listens, and no mom. Her nails scrape along the tile floor in another sprint to the front windows looking for her long-lost mother.
I call out to my wife to call for her fur baby and I hear “Really?” booming down the stairs. In mid-stride, Ginger stops, her ears perk up, and she hightails it up the stairs to the bedroom. There she gives mom kisses and cuddles from missing so much from the eternity of her five-minute absence.
Did I mention, she is a Karen. Yesterday she on the deck when I appear in the kitchen. She noses the door to come into the house. I open the door and let her pass inside. There she takes a quick walk around my legs and as the door closes, she noses to go back outside.
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