Home Alone, with Dog

I was lying in bed this morning with my dog, Roxy, curled up by my side, thinking about yesterday and how I had only spoken to strangers at the dog park. This led me to think about Gene Hackman’s last week on earth with his wife and sole caregiver, Betsy Arakawa, dead in their house. And one of his beloved dogs died in a crate. This led me down a rabbit hole: How long would it take for someone to break down my door if I didn’t text or call anyone? A few days, a week? And then I thought about Roxy. How long could she survive without food and water? How long would it take for the neighbours to notice I haven’t put out the garbage bins?

I’m going to buy one of those gravity water dispensers, advertised as perfect for pet owners who travel or are busy at work. Or perfect when you forget to fill the water bowl, or wind up dead. Next up, I’m making a plan with my close friend Joanne: If you don’t hear from me in, say, two days, send out an APB. Ditto for you, and don’t make me come over there just because you forgot to check in. Never mind, I went online and discovered the Snug app. But how could Snug help Mr. Hackman or likely anyone with Alzheimer’s? And you can’t rely on the kids – Mr. Hackman had three children. Besides, it pisses me off when people assume the kids will look after them as they get older. Selfish. Still, it’s sad to think he died alone, even with kids.

Mr. Hackman’s dog is way down my rabbit hole. Now I’m overcome with sadness – maybe one day I’ll get to that point that I can’t take care of Roxy, maybe she will outlive me. Note to self: put Roxy in your will. Exhausted with worry, I climb out of the rabbit hole, make coffee, and my phone rings – at 6 am. I never answer my phone at 6 pm because only telemarketers call at that time. An early morning call usually means bad news, so I pick up.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve called you three times in the past three days and just about to send an APB,” says my old pal Denys. I’ve been here and I’m fine, but I didn’t get any phone calls, I replied.

“Jeeze, you had me so worried. I imagined your face half eaten by Roxy, dogs always go for the face first,” he said. I’m checking my messages and – oops, there you are. Sorry, I didn’t answer. I had my phone on “Do Not Disturb.”

“For three freaking days? You need to change the settings or get that app I heard about.” I was thinking about Snug, but that means I'd have to keep my phone on “silent” all the time, and I’d pick up calls from telemarketers, scammers, and God-knows-who. Perhaps in a few more years, if I remember…

o.