Monday, June 3, 2019

In a State

Back to the minor crisis at hand, I am on the floor trying to coax Ellie out from under the bed. Marshall is leaning over my head from the bed, tail wagging, as if offering moral support. I went to the other side to see if maybe that would be easier. Lying on the floor, I looked up to see Marshall once again on the bed, tail wagging as if he was getting much enjoyment from Ellie's predicament. Not needing a peanut gallery of support, I opened the bedroom door and sent him downstairs.

Trying to brainstorm this sticky (more like 'stucky') situation, I grabbed some heavy books and stacked them under the bed rail, hoping I could wedge one more onto the stack, raising the rail just a bit, maybe a 1/2 inch or so. I remembered I had a small bit of cheese (from last night's dose of Benadryl). Reaching for it, I put it down on the floor, just under the side rail.  Like some game at a carnival, Ellie's nose quickly stuck from under the bed rail as far as she could reach to the snap up the cheese. Then I moved it just out of her reach hoping food would give her the incentive she needed to free herself. But, no. Was not to be.

Starting to panic, I realized I needed a better plan. I was able to reach under the bed and remove her collars.  Then I headed down stairs to find a tool I could use to lift the bed up an inch or two. 

Back in the bedroom, I attempted, once more, to raise the side of the bed, all the time assuring Ellie it was going to be OK. But the bed rail was not cooperating. Now I was starting to stress. I leaned down to see where she was, hoping I could maybe turn her on her side and pull her out that way. There was no Ellie. I moved the few shoe boxes that I had stored under the bed, thinking she was hiding among them. But no Ellie.

"Oh, God", I thought, "where is she?" Now, one would think I would be relieved and my reaction would have been to take a deep breath.   After all she was no longer a prisoner under the bed. But, not so much. By now I had worked myself up into a frenzy, fearing something dreadful had happened to her. This was senseless. After all she was no longer under the bed. The crisis had passed. But, where was she?

I searched everywhere in the bedroom, the bath, the closet, and even in her bed, but no Ellie. There was only one obvious explanation. She must have worked herself out and was down stairs.

As I walked into the hall downstairs, Ellie poked her head around the corner. Her little tail was wagging. No worse for the wear, she was ready for breakfast. After all, the other dogs had already eaten. Ellie takes a lot of things seriously - patrolling the back yard, irritating Marshall by taking his toys, and ridding the yard of moles and voles. However, what she takes most seriously, are her meals.

My relief to see her was mixed with annoyance. Part of me was furious. But, like a child, she had no idea the emotional toll the morning had taken on me. Seeing her bright eyes and wagging tail, I knew I couldn't hold this against her. I put her collars back on. While pouring the kibbles into her red bowl, I was telling her how much she had scared me. "If you got under the bed, why couldn't you get out - when I asked?" As if she could understand me. 

Even as she chowed down on her breakfast, Ellie showed some appreciation with a quick short bark, followed by a series of "beeps'. Finally I could have a morning cup of coffee. Putting the grounds into the espresso maker, I thought, "I'm too old for this much excitement -especially early in the morning." 

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