In recent years, I’ve gotten in the habit of leaving the non-traditional trees up until the end of January—or even later—appreciating the ambiance and extra light during the dark weeks. This year, I decide to put them away and get to a semblance of Moose Jaw normal as we continue to adjust after the move.
And so it is that I find myself in the living room disassembling three trees and tucking them back into their boxes while a locksmith trudges across my floor with his boots on, causing not a moment of consternation on my behalf because I’ll just be glad to finally have keys for our home. (The previous owners didn’t leave any because they relied on the security keypad at the front door.) This, while keeping a close eye on Maya who has developed a gastrointestinal issue that we have an emergency appointment at the veterinarian for in a couple of hours.
I was going to make turkey soup. We were going to go to Timothy Eaton Gardens to check out the 50+ pickleball. Instead, I’m keeping busy and trying to keep my worry about Maya under check.
Later, I’m holding her in my arms when Gerry pulls into the parking lot at the Moose Jaw Animal Clinic.
“Not just yet,” I say. “Let’s just sit here for a while first.”
We’re early for the appointment. We have time to wait. Maya will be 15 in a few weeks and the veterinarian is the last place I want to take her. I reach for another tissue to wipe my eyes.
”I just hope we don’t leave here without her.”
Some time later, having been seen by a caring and thorough vet who has run tests and gone over the results with us, we leave the building with Maya in my arms, three kinds of medication in my purse, and hearts that are much lighter than they were when we arrived.
So, on this fourth day of Christmas there is no soup and no pickleball but there’s a recovering Yorkie—and that’s better than anything else on this day.