One early evening I let Willow out in the yard to attend to her business. A few minutes after letting her out she was scratching to be let back in. I opened the door and the smell of skunk assaulted me – Willow had been sprayed. But it was too late to grab her. Horrified by what had happened to her, Willow had made a beeline to Emma’s room and had disappeared under her bed. I ran after her frantically calling her name with 3 year old Emma trailing close behind me, also calling her name. When we got to Emma’s room, Emma and I continued our frantic pursuit with me on the floor on my stomach, trying to grab the dog from under the bed and Emma bouncing on top of her bed, still frantically calling, “Willow, Willow, Willow!” After a few minutes of this, it became clear to me that I was going to need to try something else and I ran downstairs to get a broom to flush Willow out from under the bed. When I got back upstairs, a very out of breath Emma paused from her jumping and yelling Willow’s name and said, “Mom, why are we doing this?”
That was quintessential Emma, always right in the middle of whatever was going on, even when she wasn’t sure exactly what was going on.
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