Swept from the corners of my mind…
Wasn’t last week’s blizzard an adventure? *Wipes sarcasm from lips”.
I left work a bit early to try to beat the storm. I did a quick Dollarama pickup then raced to the pharmacy for a prescription that had run out. Even though I had used my card at the other store, I got declined. Eh, it happens. But then my credit card was declined. The winds are picking up, the snow is blowing around, and I’m getting tense.
I live 20 miles out of town, half of it down a grid road, and that wind has created impassable drifts on our road before. Also, I’m so old I can’t see properly when fresh snow melds the roads and ditches into one fluffy blanket, doubly so when said snow is still flying, and even more so when dusk approaches to cover everything in gray.
We ran one card again. Declined. Ran the other. Declined. It seems the storm also froze the credit system. I needed that prescription, so I called the bank. After forever a real human came on the line. I explained the problem. He carefully and cautiously (read “slowly”) ran my info through the system, double checking that I wasn’t a scammer or being scammed. The snow continued to whirl. When I asked about the credit card he graciously transferred me to the Credit department which did all the same things, at the same speed. The snow fell. The cards declined. My eye twitched. The storm laughed. Both cards were cleared. Both were declined.
Suspicious that it was the storm affecting the tills, not my cards, I ran out to another location to get cash. Back to Vic Square, then on the road as the highway began to disappear into the night.
I made it, despite my many fears. I changed into my flying pig pyjama pants (don’t judge) and a bunny hug before I remembered that the neighbours were on vacation and I needed to check their dogs, who had been in the basement since the night before.
One look at my old SUV and I needed a better option. The keys for the TJ got lost at Christmas, but there was still the old 4 x 4 Ranger, a real workhorse. Unfortunately, Hercules was a non-starter (I hadn’t driven it in months).
Desperate (again? Still?) I contacted my awesome other neighbour and asked for just a path plowed between the two yards, enough to get to the house and rescue the dogs. I know he must have been going non-stop, but he has a kind soul. At 5:30, just when the sky and the newly fallen snow blended into a wet-blanket gray, I threw on a heavy vest, grabbed a couple mismatched mitts, and went out to the deck to consider the chances of getting out of the yard, leaving my cell on the couch. I’d likely have to walk up their long driveway with my cane, but “needs must”.
Squinting, I realized the wonderful man had snuck in and already out plowed my yard. Stressing about the dogs and the fact that I can’t tell ditch from road under the fresh snow, I leapt into the old car—in PJs, vest, mismatched mitts, no coat, no phone, no brain. Good thing God takes care of the reckless.
The previous night I had staked a bunch of reflectors along the shoulder of their lane to try not to fall off it. It was hard to see them as my windshield kept frosting up and I was peering through a tiny spot (right where the crack runs), but I made it! Luckily, the pups were fine and there were only half a dozen poop piles …all on the carpet.
The 4 dogs came home with me. What a great idea! The tussling between those 4 (including a young Malinois) and my 3 (including an unneutered Setter and a 100-pound Shepherd) got on my nerves. It’s not a big house, and there were a lot of solid tails thrashing things off counters and bodies slamming into furniture. I didn’t even see which one peed in the living room, twice, right in front of my chair. I tossed them out around 11 for a quick pee and then got a text from their owners. It turns out 2 of the dogs are Master Level Counter Surfers. She does not recommend them as house guests.
I called the pack in for the night and discovered that those two had decided to go home through the blizzard. I packed the other 4 into the car and drove back up (again with an iced-up windshield) to put them back into their own beds. It wasn’t until I headed back home that I realized the sweet older dog had waited for an engraved invitation to get out of the car. I wasn’t up to chancing fate again, so she came back for a sleepover.
Snowblind, cashless, and dog-tired, but still here. Thank God for taking care of the Reckless!
Cathy Bendle finds humour in the quirks of everyday life, from training teachers to dodging housework. When not writing, she’s either laughing at her pets, frantically Googling for her work assignments, or playing on her iPad. Her column appears every other Wednesday.
