Things had been difficult for us since I'd been back and I wasn't sure what the weekend would look like. Turned out, the weekend looked great. From the minute I walked into her apartment, everything was fine. All the pieces that had been churned up by my brother's visit somehow settled like snow in a globe. There we were, on the loveseat again, her feet across my lap, drinking a beer and talking talking talking and it was so good. The soup was fantastic and then we watched a documentary about Rwanda, all curled up together on the loveseat. Everything was peaceful in my heart and mind and body again.
Saturday was the first full day we ever spent together. It started like most of our truncated days start. We woke around eleven and Mahavira made us tea, which we drank (as usual) sitting up in bed. The bed is pushed into a corner against two walls. Mahavira leans against one wall and I lean against the other and our legs cross over each other. We drink our tea and talk for at least two hours. That's how Saturday started.
But Saturday couldn't stay so sublime because Mahavira's foster dog was sick and had to go to the vet. In fact, the dog woke us up every two hours throughout the night to go outside. Diarrhea and vomiting are no fun. We eventually dragged ourselves out of the cozy tea den and packed the dog off to a vet's office way out on 82nd. Three hours and $185 later we still weren't quite sure what was wrong with the dog, but we had some medicine for the symptoms and we hoped for the best.
By then we were starving since we hadn't eaten all day. Mahavira was dying to take me to Pepino's for a sweet tequila chicken burrito, which is in no way an authentic Mexican dish, but which is tasty nonetheless. We both ate way more than we should have, then we headed back to the apartment to try and force some medicine into the dog and to watch some more movies. When we finally went to bed at midnight, the dog hadn't had any episodes of gross expulsions in several hours and we crossed our fingers and hoped for a full night's sleep.
It was a miracle, but the dog didn't stir once through the night and we both slept like rocks. Hot sweaty rocks that were glued together all night and couldn't bear to be separated for even a second. And if *you're* now afflicted with diarrhea and vomiting from reading all this shit about my wonderful love affair with Mahavira, I really don't blame you. I'd probably be feeling pretty nauseated myself if I wasn't so busy swooning with bliss.
Actually, I'm busy babysitting the dog, who is quite the needy little monster. She has terrible separation anxiety and barks her head off if she's left alone, so Mahavira's been taking her everywhere for the past three months. Poor Mahavira. She's a saint. Patron Saint of needy dogs. Mahavira's working right now and I volunteered to keep the dog tonight since she's been sick and might've caused problems at Mahavira's workplace.
Turns out, most of her symptoms have disappeared (no bad stuff all day, yay) and she probably would've been fine with Mahavira. As it is, she's laying at my feet and whining for Mahavira every few minutes. It's kind of annoying. I mean, I miss Mahavira too, but I'm not *that* pathetic. I don't think...