Kathryn has taken to calling Smokey “Coon Dog” following his encounter with the raccoon this summer and as his quarantine came to an end, she wanted to have a few friends over to celebrate. As we got talking about it, we started calling it the Emancipation Party. Emancipation is a prickly word because of its association with slavery yet the definition is “the fact or process of being set free from legal, social, or political restrictions; liberation” and so it does fit.

Tuesday was Smokey’s freedom day. We were instructed to call Animal Control and let them know how he was doing and then he would be done. I tried to call the day before and report in but the rules are, you have to call the last day of the quarantine.  The officer was very nice and said she would be at her desk at 7am and I could call her directly. She said even if she wasn’t there, leave a message and we were good to go. At 7am on the dot, I called. I gave my name an address and she responded that she couldn’t find our file. The voice in my head was saying “Are you f*cking kidding me?” but luckily the only word that came out were a deflated “oh.” It took a few minutes – I had to find the paperwork to get a number from it since she could never find our file and then we were free.

Smokey had been following me around all morning like he knew something was going on but then when I told him we were going for a walk, he sat staring at me. Then I told him to find his leash. We say that all the time like he’s going to actually fetch his leash when all he really does is whimper and jump around in a circle, but it’s the signal he’s heading out.  I couldn’t find his halti which he needs because he likes to pull you along because Kathryn had been using it on the guinea pig so she could walk him in the backyard. Nor could I find his long leash. But we found the short one and when I told him again we were going for a walk, he sat down and scratched behind his ears, which in Smokey talk means he’s confused.

He was thrilled though when he finally got out and even more excited to see his friend Shelby at the end of the street. Thanks to my friend Ellen for coming out with Shelby to welcome Smokey back to the hood. Smokey whizzed on everything along the walk so everyone would know he was back in town. That evening Mike took him over to the park, Smokey’s favorite place, and after 45 days, Smokey’s world was right again.

It’s amazing how just knowing he can get out seems to have perked him up. I feel this way when my car is in the shop. While it is there, I can think of 15 places to go or things to do that require my car but when it is in the driveway, I’ve no constant urge to use it. Just knowing you have freedom is almost as sweet as using it. Smokey has put on a few pounds. Hard to keep him moving in the house and easy to entertain him with food. We tried to be mindful of this but it was inevitable he’d gain some weight.

All in all, the summer of rabies is behind us now. The medical bills are trickling in and that’s another project to figure that out. Three of us had the same treatments yet the bills are all different. We’ve gotten some, but not all, so I’m waiting for all of them to get in so I can really sit down and review them. This is my way of avoiding them, if you hadn’t guessed. But I’m putting them all in a folder so I feel good – like I’m super organized. Rationalization at it’s best. Got to organize them first, then deal with them.

In the grand scheme of things and given what others are dealing with, this whole rabies scare seems trivial. But when we were in the middle of it, it was overwhelming. Thanks to everyone for their well wishes and offers of support. I used to enjoy seeing the occasional raccoon on the back deck at night, stealing from the bird feeder, but no more! Maybe that nest of Pokémon that surrounds our house will keep them away. One can only hope.