Day #11 Writing Through Covid-19: Who Let the Dog In?

Last night when I went into the back hall, I could hear my father's voice coming from the basement. He was telling my mother--again, again--that they are staying at my place during Covid-19.

I've been a good eavesdropper my entire life, but my mother's voice was in a higher register that wafted up to me in wordless mewls. I could only tell what she was saying from the context of my father's patient responses. 

--?
"We're at Alli's, in her basement, because our children don't want us to get sick."
--?
"Yes, we'll go back when the pandemic passes."
--?
"Well, we will probably be here for a couple of months."
--!
"I know." 
--!
"Yes, I understand."
--?
"Our children think this is best, and I do too." 

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We fill the days with small misadventures. 

This morning our big, dirty coonhound was roaming the basement when I came down with breakfast. 

"How did Rex get in here?" I asked, sure he had pushed his way in through the door they'd left unlocked.

My mother explained that when she'd let Vern out for his morning BM (ACK! Mother! Stop saying that!), he and Rex were getting along so well she brought them both inside!

I shoved Rex out with my knee and reminded my mom that Rex is farm dog. His kennel is in the garage. I'm happy he's getting along with Vern, but he is not house-trained or welcome inside.

Why do I think this won't be the only day I find Rex inside?

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My mother and I washed three of the basement windows together today. It felt productive. My parents' view across the Iowa farmland is much improved.

Enough.
Stay well.
Write.

Allison