After a long wait at the vet, I was finally able to take George home. I circled my neighborhood and all the surrounding streets for almost half an hour, finding parking a way’s way from my apartment. It was almost midnight, and I always feel uneasy walking home alone late at night. This night, already standing at the edge of my physical and emotional limits, I surprisingly felt brave and emboldened. One last mile to go.
I secured George into his carrier, which I wear on my front like a front version of a backpack. He’s too heavy and overall too large to carry in hand or in cross-body carriers, so I carry him on my front like a kangaroo carries a Joey. He was surprisingly curious and kept his head out to watch the cars passing by. Usually he keeps his head tucked in, threatened by booming noises from the street. Maybe he was just happy to be out of the animal hospital.
We had a long walk home, but fortunately along well-lit streets. I ran into a row of electric scooters, which were a welcome solution to my long, final uphill walk. I scanned the QR code and struggled to find balance hopping on, with George on my front and my backpack on my back, hobbling on like an awkward upright turtle. The guys at the corner taco stand on the other side of the broad intersection cheered and applauded as I pushed with my right foot and got going. I didn’t know I needed it but I was grateful.
I rode up the hill to my apartment, George lulled to sleep by the ride and now snoozing soundly. I parked the scooter and passed through the garden walkway to my doorstep. We were both happy to be home.
crafts from the honey pot 