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The Little Things

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Well, Gant, it’s your birthday today. You are SIX years old. Thank god it’s your birthday, because otherwise I wouldn’t know what day it is. Taken in 2014. This will always be my favorite photo. This birthday, for you, is like any other. You don’t even know it is your birthday. You also have no idea that we are in quarantine. Every morning, you stretch your tiny body, crawl out of the layers of blankets, and then decide to lay back down because it’s 9:30 am and it’s too early to greet the day. It’s 9:30 am. It’s too early. Each day you get to enjoy doing what you love – chasing squirrels (or trying to) and then looking up at the tree to see where they went, gobbling up your favorite treat – the “bone bone”, alerting us every time the delivery truck arrives, and running around with a…

Well, it’s day 2345 of quarantine. The days blend together. Weekends aren’t as special as they used to be, as I am basically wearing my Saturday and Sunday uniform (pajamas, tank top) in any day that ends in a “y”. As with a lot of people, my anxiety levels have definitely increased, especially at the grocery store. What used to be a leisurely errand has become a CIA mission. Put on your protective gear, get in, avoid being too close to people, and get out. The only ones who have really “won” during this pandemic are dogs. They get their owners home 24/7, still get to enjoy their outdoor walks, and receive extra attention from their owners (although Gant always seems to have that “Get away from me” expression as we try and pick him up or get up so close to his face and stare at him. Yes, we…

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