Ah, spring. Time to take out the double stroller, fill it up with kids, make a train of pre-schoolers behind the stroller, and grab the dog leash with the spare hand. May as well do a few errands along the way- combine business with pleasure. There's that form at the medical clinic that the receptionist keeps calling about. It needs a signiture, so that all the paperwork from Arianna's accident can get processed. Only three blocks from the house, it's in perfect walk/errand area. There are heads to count and reminders to issue. There are logistics for who will press the buttons for the elevater, who will press the wheelchair access buttons, and who will wait until we get to the bank and have their turn at button pressing somewhat deferred. There is street crossing to navigate, heads to recount, safety routes to plan out. There are dogs barking, children playing, moms out walking aerobically.
We get through the paper signing without incident, half the children happy that they have had a turn at pressing buttons. Back to the elevaters, more buttons to navigate- two for the elevater, two for the automated doors. Back into the sunshine, navigating safety, heading off to the bank. It's so great to listen to the children, genuinely exhuberant about the ordinary. The dogs behind fences, the dogs on people with leashes. There is plenty of oppurtunity to discuss barking and pet ownership. Four blocks down, safety intact, and more dog talk.
"Where doggie go? where doggie go?!"
A sudden horrifying realization settles down on me, and my determined stride suddenly halts mid-arch. The recognition of gaps in our communication descends upon me with a terrible gravity. We are not discussing theoretical dogs, or dogs behind fences, or dogs on leashes. WE ARE TRING TO ASK JOYCE THE BABYSITTER AND JOYCE THE DOG OWNER WHERE THE HECK THE DOG IS.
Doggie is in fact, back at the clinic.
Tied up to the post outside of the east entrance.
The entrance due east from the westerly exit that we decided to make.
Yes, she is.