The entrance to The Farm Road hadn’t changed much, although the leaves were off the trees and the pond looked deserted.
Animals clustered all around the road, fenced off in their own areas. Twelve cars were parked at the back stairs and inside granddaughters were preparing our Thanksgiving feast.
Two sets of dogs, including Chris’s (he’s in Qatar with the Army and Connie snap chatted with him while we were there) babies were outside in their respective running areas. Bill’s old border collies (saved from execution) were guarding the hen houses. Downstairs we spotted the German Shepherds, set aside for the day. Upstairs we found the Spaniels, a small Poodle, a Black Lab, and a rescue Greyhound. Fences and gates everywhere.
One of Joy’s roommates had dropped her beagle off for the weekend, and she lay next to Bill on the sofa while Daisy, Bill’s dog, rested her head on his lap. Jeremiah, Jericho or whatever his name is….Hannah’s poodle, walked along the sofa back, anxious to reach Hannah who was “proofing” the dinner rolls in the kitchen. President, the rescue greyhound was shut in the ‘Master’ bedroom with Kiki the rescue cat. When Bill let him out, my little ten-pound Johnny went nuts barking. Amelia showed me her rescue cat, lying on the bed in the room where she slept. Animal crates were everywhere.
Meanwhile the Macy’s parade streamed across the TV screen while millions of New Yorkers celebrated.
When I washed my hands, I found nineteen bottles of stuff on the sink while looking for liquid hand soap. I got something on my hands that wouldn’t come off. I yelled “help” and Connie came, found the empty soap dispenser, squirted some in my hands and I finally extricated myself from the sink.
And that was the most exciting thing that happened.