Were the squirrels harmed during the making of this video
The_Real_Shell-E
Oh my gosh this is so mean! Poor Pat! I’m reporting this video for bullying. He deserves so much better! Also, did he get tested for rabies? I’m concerned.
SaintValentine Can it, The_Real_Shell-E. He’s a married man. Also, this is the best video I’ve ever seen in my life.
BobToo
This video is hilarious, but I also have rabies concerns. We don’t want to lose our coach.
WayneNGarthBrooks Speaking of rabies, I’ve got a possum living under my couch. I thought the feller was dead and brought him inside, and now he’s hiding under there and won’t come out. He’s not the worst pet I’ve ever had, but I don’t want rabies.
MaddieDVM
I thought I’d weigh in with some rabies facts! Squirrels rarely pass rabies on to humans, but in cases of direct contact like in this video, it’s possible, especially if the skin is broken through scratches or bites.
Opossums—the correct name—almost never carry rabies. It’s extremely rare. They’re particularly helpful in ridding areas of other unwanted pests but do not make good house pets. Call animal control and do not attempt to pick it up again! They may not carry rabies, but they have a wicked bite!!
DeltaDeltaDelta I’d be happy to check Pat out just to make sure he wasn’t scratched.
LindyLouWho
Don’t worry—I’ve already given him a thorough examination. An EXTREMELY thorough examination. Happy to report there were no scratches. Pat is rabies free! No worries, BobToo. Your coach is happy and healthy and not going anywhere.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Lindy
I love Jo. And my love for her is not defined by how often I volunteer at her school. This is what I tell myself as I get dressed to help with Galaxy Day, trying on and discarding at least three outfits before deciding on my most comfortable skinny jeans, boots, and a simple striped sweater. I dropped Jo off at school earlier, then came home to change. Apparently, the school frowns on parents volunteering in their pajamas.
If I ran a school, everyone would wear pajamas all the time. Pajamas would be the required uniform. Pajama school: where everyone is comfortable learning. Great tagline, right?
“You’re doing this for Jo,” I tell myself, brushing powder over my cheeks.
This is my mantra lately, even though the hearing is tomorrow. TOMORROW. I can’t see how anything I’m doing will have any impact. It feels like trying to sweep up feathers while in a wind tunnel.
But I cannot think about the hearing right now. I’ve been getting a PhD in avoidance lately. No need to skip out before I get my diploma. The other thing I’m avoiding this morning: thinking about that kiss. As a tactic, avoidance is only partially successful.
“LINDY! Where are you?”
Pat’s voice booms up through the floorboards as the kitchen door slams. I jump, dropping my compact, which of course sends a fine dusting of powder all over my counter, shirt, and jeans.
“I’m up here!” I call. “Cleaning up the mess you made me make.” I mutter the last part as Pat stomps his way up the stairs. One of these days, he’s going to go right through the wood steps.
He’s almost to the top when the memory of last night slams into me, along with the realization that we are in the house ALONE. Totally, totally alone. I freeze, the compact still in my hands, powder still everywhere. I’m supposed to be at the school in twenty minutes, but that leaves at least ten minutes to either replay that kiss or to pretend it didn’t happen.
I fell asleep thinking about THE KISS. I woke up thinking about it. Heck, it played a starring role in all of my dreams. I planned to wait up for Pat last night, unsure whether I would tell him the kiss had been a one-time thing or—more likely—pick right back up at home where we left off at the stadium. Only slower. Longer. And without worrying about scaring small children or having announcers give a play-by-play.