Quarantine Tails

Quarantine has been quite the drag to be honest. The hours slowly have melted together, and the days have compressed into my bedroom as I count how long it will be until I get to see my friends from more than just behind a screen. Luckily for me though I have Petunia, a mixed breed of cranky and curious, she is who I have passed my days with the most lately.  

For us it is up by 6 a.m. for a long adventure around our neighborhood, back for breakfast, and a nap all before 10 a.m. This one particular morning though we were in for a major surprise. We like to hang out by the canal near our apartment complex. There I am free to let her unleash her energy as she runs ahead of me and then stops to look back as if to say, “Keep up!”.  That morning we headed towards the canal and I let her unleash her inner wolf. The sun was not up yet, which was strange, since we would always watch the sun rise as we made our way along the side of the canal. I kept walking behind her, looking up to notice the clouds, thinking, “maybe it is going to rain?” 

When I looked back down to see where she was, she was gone. “Petunia!” I yelled. Nothing. A strike of fear ran down my spine. “Where could she have gone? What could she be doing? There was no one around except us.”  Or so I thought.  

I started to run in the direction I had last seen her, calling her name, whistling, listening for the sound of her paws running back to me. Still nothing. Then, in the tall grassy field next to the canal I noticed movement. The grass was swaying with movement, something was definitely running through it. For a brief second, I stopped, not imagining that it was her, but some sort of wild beast about to emerge from the field and attack me. I held my breath, out raced a bunny, and right behind its fluffy cute tail, Petunia.  

I exhaled, “Petunia, no!”, and ran in their direction. The bunny, out of escape options and running for its life made the quick and daring decision sprint towards the canal and jumped right in. Petunia, not thinking about anything else other than to catch that bunny, jumped right in behind her.  

I ran up to the edge of the canal, still screaming her name, watching as she trudged through the green algae, mud, and trash searching for the poor bunny. I yelled her name one last time and she snapped out of her daze, looked up at me with tired and defeated eyes, and climbed up the side of the canal to me. As soon as she was on level ground, she shook off, spraying me with stinky canal water. She sat a moment after and gazed up at me, mouth open wide and breathing heavy.  

I stood there, smelling like canal water and said, “No! Bad!” She immediately laid down on the ground, knowing that she was in trouble. I turned back to the canal looking for the bunny, hoping that it somehow made it the other side. No bunny.  

I put her leash back on and we walked back to our apartment. She reeked of canal water, her paws were covered in algae, her fur was soaked in mud. I could not believe she jumped into the canal. When we finally got back, I bathed her. That was one of the longest baths I have ever had to give her. Needless to say, she makes some quarantine days a bit more interesting.