Barb and I wrestled with an illusive on and off health problem last month, until an experienced physician discovered her heart rate was erratic and she was courting a heart attack. One thing led to another – all positive – and she’s now at home recovering. And the home-health-nurse(s) are now paying frequent visits, monitoring her progress.
Barb and I are both amateur radio operators (not to be confused with CB radio), so most of our friends are folks we’ve chatted with on the radio, folks we have chance meetings with at irregular times, these times based on how friendly electromagnetic conditions are at any given time.
That’s the long way of saying we have fewer acquaintances coming to our door than we have radio contacts. As a result of all this, Mr. Black, a friend we rescued from the local animal shelter some eleven years ago, is not accustomed to an abundance of strangers coming to the door.
A sixty-day recovery period has created some extra foot traffic. Yesterday three different health nurses visited Barb for different aspects of her recovery. Mr. Black tolerated the first two nurses and accompanied me to the bedroom to wait until it was over. But when the third one came to the door he decided he needed to watch over “Mama”.
Instead of following me to the bedroom he turned a deaf ear to my voice, and assumed a post on a chair across the room from where the evaluation was occurring.
I can’t fault that. He never opened his head while performing the job we hired him for more than a decade ago.