I went down to the first floor to head to the basement to get my laundry, but the lovely woman I was staying with had already done that for me. I met her in the kitchen where I learned that her sweet dog, Trudy, had gotten skunked. That was the smell.
Apparently this woman had gotten up in the middle of the night and went downstairs for a drink of water. She thought she might as well let Trudy out while she was down there. But she knew the minute she opened the door. Trudy raced down the steps and moments later, the stink bomb went off. This poor woman spent the rest of the night washing Trudy using every method the internet could provide. By morning, Trudy smelled pretty good. The rest of the house, however, was still skunked.
This is Trudy. Sweet, silly, skunked Trudy.
Skunked or not, my Mom and I began packing to move to the pet-friendly Red Roof Inn in anticipation of Sterling's arrival. As we spent the morning packing (I had been in this house for two weeks), I limped around doing what needed to be done. As the morning went on, my foot began hurting worse and worse. We decided we would stop by the local CVS to get a bandage and see if I could rent crutches. Bandage yes, crutches no.
We were only a few blocks from Newburyport's very own hospital, so we decided to quickly stop by. We knew it was just a sprain, but we wanted to make sure, and perhaps I could get some crutches out of it.
So we stopped by, and wouldn't you know it, but some sort of Mud Run was that morning, and the ER was filled with muddy racers with various sprains, breaks and ailments. If we had realized the whole process would take almost five hours, we probably wouldn't have stayed.
As it was, we did stay. We watched the Olympics, chatted with a couple who wondered if the husband's ankle was broken (he didn't think so), and were generally happy we weren't muddy.
Here, I would like to put a word in for Mike, the x-ray technician who x-rayed my foot. He was the funniest medical professional I have ever met, and had the best bedside manner a person could have! You are the best, Mike!
We finally got in to see the doctor, and...my foot was broken. I was in shock. How on earth was I going to have a broken foot when I hadn't even started my third week of work and was about to move into a third-story walk-up? However, I was also strangely calm. I had (have) so much going on with this move that I've kind of decided to just roll with the punches. What else can I do? So they bandaged my foot, told me to ice it four times a day, and gave me a hard shoe to wear until I could see the orthopedic surgeon, hopefully on Monday.
By the way, the husband mentioned above? His ankle was broken. A bad day for both of us.
Toward the end of our hospital visit, I received the first of my Sterling-related phone calls. Sterling had been staying in the boarding facility of her vet: Elliott Bay Animal Hospital. Saturday she was being picked up by my very good friends, Danielle and Killy. (Those of you who know Sterling know they must be very good friends indeed.) A piece of information had somehow fallen by the wayside, and the vet didn't know that Sterling was supposed to be drugged to the gills before her flight. She was calling me to confirm and to discuss her concerns. After a conversation, I made what I considered a perilous decision not to sedate her. To be clear, this decision was not perilous for me, but for every other person who would need to interact with Sterling until I picked her up from Logan International Airport.
We left the hospital and headed to the hotel. This Red Roof Inn was fine except for the very difficult fact that every single ice machine was broken, and I needed to ice my foot four times a day. It did have a little fridge, so after my poor, beleaguered Mom went out and bought some ice, we kept it in the fridge. It lasted long enough.
That evening, I received the second of my Sterling-related calls. Danielle and Killy were at the airport, and Alaska Airlines decided Sterling's carrier wouldn't work because the screws holding the top and bottom together were plastic. Really, Alaska? Really? Dani suggested zip ties, but no. They're good enough for violent criminals, but not for Sterling. So I ended up buying a $60 carrier from the airline. The funny news was that Sterling was one of three cats there, yowling and howling together. I wish I could have seen that! Anyway, Sterling was officially on her way.
The next morning, my Mom and I headed out to Logan. Poor Sterling. Her carrier was sitting next to a carrier full of German shepherd puppies that were going nuts. The minute she saw us, she started meowing with a wild look in her eyes. I'm pretty sure she was saying, "What the *%#&? Get me away from these &@#!$% puppies! And what the *%&# is going on anyway?"
We took her back to the hotel, where she sniffed everything, ate (this is Sterling we're talking about -- nothing interferes with a meal!), and hid under the bed.
A word about Sterling's behavior at Dani and Killy's. She was good! I was so shocked! Relieved, but shocked! They put her in the bathroom for the four or five hours they had until it was time to leave for the airport. She used her litter box (!) and hid behind the toilet. She even let Dani pet her! And in the car, as they were switching her from carrier to carrier, and Dani was taping a puppy pee pad to the bottom of the new carrier, Sterling let Killy hold her! Wow. They truly have the magic touch.
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Will Sterling keep behaving?
Will Shannon survive her broken foot?
Read on to find out!
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