White Dog snuggled tightly against me and whispered, "I can't stand it anymore, dad is cooking me alive! I am going to sleep under the chair!" I raised a hand to Steve's forehead; WD was right, he was burning up. I got out of bed to get the thermometer and aspirin then gently woke Steve. He had a fever and complained of being cold and achy. "You have the sickies, my love," I told him and WD yipped in agreement. I reached over and turned off the alarm clock. "No work today. Sleep, lots of water, aspirin, and more sleep. Believe me they will THANK you for not bringing these germs into the school."
Late morning, Steve got up to leave messages at school and crawled back into bed. "I feel awful!" White Dog had already quietly gone around and alerted the rest of the Army that they were assigned nursing and Steve care duties for the day and that she would tolerate no action that made the patient uncomfortable. Every time Steve stirred or got off of the couch he had an escort to attend to him. There was a White One always at his side, even as he slept.
YoYoMa was in charge of entertaining the patient. He brought him a favorite stuffie and told Steve cat and squirrel jokes.
Steve insisted on preparing the pup's dinner meal claiming that he so enjoyed it that it would make him feel better. Quinn was at his heel the entire time.
The rest of the Army lined up in an anticipatory show of appreciation that WAS heartwarming.
After, the WDA crowd around Steve's sickie nest on the couch to warm him and distract him from the cold symptoms. Steve has promised to take the deserving WDA on their nightly walk, despite my protests; the White Ones have promised to go easy on him. Maybe a bit a fresh air, IF Steve bundles up properly won't hurt. But then the nurses must directly tuck him firmly into bed and administer "go to sleep" cold meds.
